Title: A Gift Of Time 3
Author: JINX Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive comments always
welcome: jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: Strong R to soft NC-17
Spoilers: Scattered for the last season of
Buffy, chosen in particular and scattered for Angel’s fifth season but it
diverges into AU territory pretty quickly.
Warnings: The usual goodies for Slash,
violence, swearing and all that. Additionally a canon character death is
touched on and there’s some intermittent character bashing, particularly in the
stories later in the series. *This is NOT really a Scooby friendly
story!* Part of this story also contains some religious references and it is
actually a construction comprising several beliefs so hope that no one is
offended by it as it was intended to be respectful and non-judgemental.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of
harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their
owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s Notes: This story takes place in an AU
setting. Please excuse any minor discrepancies or artist license. As always
thanks are going out to GF, Myst, Salustra, Betsy, and Sweet my most excellent
group of Beta/Editors.
Writer’s Credits: Special thanks to BuffyWorld for their most excellent
transcripts which were used to blend actual episode dialogue into the story.
There has been some artistic license taken with the actual dialogue so it may
not appear *exactly* as it did in the episodes. This part of the story will
feature the song ‘Carnival’ by Natalie Merchant.
Writer Websites: JINXI’s Archive Site Shadows In A Mirror: JINX REALM
JINXI’s LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/jinxwatcher
The
Crypt: http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/crypt.htm#buffywatcher
Distribution: If I’ve already been given
permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If I
haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email
me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit.
Writer’s Dedication: For Stony: Well when I was
pondering on a gift suitable for GF’s birthday it occurred to me that the only
suitable gift was something shiny and new so here you go Stony me Darlin, part
one of a three part shiny new tale. Happy Birthday *Hugs* JINXI
Summary: Months after the destruction of
Sunnydale, Spike mysteriously reappears in the offices of Wolfram & Hart
but the mystery of his resurrection is only one of the puzzles Angel must solve
before the gift of more time he’s received to make the wrong things right, runs
out and he loses the precious gift he’s only just reclaimed.
*Introspective or retrospective
comments, quotes, lyrics, or stanzas.*
Chapter Ten
This night has been a comedy of
errors that is anything but amusing, Angel thinks with a dark scowl. First
their supposed possession case turns into a psychopathic, mentally ill Slayer.
Then Eve’s constant presence has forced his Childe and he into their old
adversarial roles, leaving them both hearts sick at their enforced separation.
To top it all off Spike was forced to move into an apartment the mysterious
‘Doyle’ oh so kindly found for him to keep up the ruse of their estrangement.
It hasn’t been easy pretending to hate each other as once they did in
light of the changes they’ve both gone through both during and after Spike’s
death in the Hellmouth. The very memory of having lost Spike and with the
knowledge that Aurelius would cease to exist when he did, still haunts his
sleeping mind. The terrors grow silent only in the arms of his Precious Childe,
who is forced to smuggle himself into the building every night, avoiding the
hawk-like surveillance of the ever-watchful Eve, to sleep in his arms. That was
another perquisite of allowing Spike to rediscover who he is, that he return
every night to his arms and his bed. He knows he would never sleep at all if he
didn’t have the peace of mind of knowing that Spike was safe and no where else
could ever be as safe as his embrace.
Angel glances away from the road briefly to sneak a peek at the
passenger seat. Spike is leaning against the window, he suspects he’s only
upright thanks to the seatbelt he demanded he wear. The sight of his Childe
being thrown out of a window and crashing to the ground stories below will be
yet another memory to haunt his sleeping mind he knows, as will the argument
they were forced to act out for curious eyes. He’s positive that more than a
few of the security detail are on Eve’s payroll and they’ve been using that to
their advantage. Eve and the mysterious ‘Doyle’ are none the wiser to their
ruse and they’ve been able to carefully control what they’ve learned from or
through Spike and his movements through Wolfram & Hart.
The only thing that hasn’t gone their way is managing to identify who
the enigmatic man calling himself Doyle truly is. Every spell they’ve attempted
to cast has failed to locate him or identify who he is and every bug and camera
they’ve tried to bug Spike with always fails in his presence. Wesley and Fred
have come to agree that whomever the man is he must be utilizing some of the
most powerful magic spells to avoid being detected or identified. The necessity
of the ruse has made attempts at live surveillance virtual impossible without
risking revealing where Spike’s true loyalties lie. Whomever their puzzling
adversary truly is, it is obvious that he knows them well enough to shield
himself from their detection methods and curiously enough even from formidable
Vampire senses. Spike finds his presence uncomfortable for the very reason that
he cannot sense the enigmatic ‘seer’ through any of his senses but sight and
even that fades within moments of leaving him. It is just another side effect
of the spells protecting him in Wesley’s opinion. He theorizes that it another
precaution preventing Spike from revealing too much about him; which leads them
to suspect that their foe is someone known to them.
Whomever their opponent is, he’s about to find out just how unwise he’s
been in trying to manipulate his Childe. Angel flicks his eyes towards the
younger Vampire and tightens his hand on the wheel until it creaks ominously in
protestation. He can see the obscene signs of the injuries marring his perfect
Childe and each and every one is an affront to his Sire eyes. None of the
injuries threaten the continued existence of his Childe; Spike is Master
Vampire, the strongest of his age that he has ever heard of, and he knows that
he will recover fully within the hour. That however isn’t the point he knows.
He’s had enough of this game of manipulation and counter-manipulation that is
getting them no where fast. They sent his Childe in blind against a deranged
Slayer that could have meant his end and that is unacceptable.
He glances quickly at Spike before turning his eyes back to the road and
his brow furrows slightly. Ever since his miraculous resurrection from the
amulet something has been nibbling at his memory, trying to nibble and wriggle
its way back into his recollection. It’s important but to his frustration, it
remains elusive and nor can he remember why it is so important that he
remembers it or what it has to do with Spike. He’s not sure why he’s positive
but his instincts have been screaming at him since Spike became corporeal once
more. The elusive memory is the key to the mystery he knows, now if he can just
find out what the key unlocks….
The soft trill of his cell phone distracts him from his dark thoughts. He
reaches over to tap the speaker button so that he can drive while keeping his
attention on the road and his Childe where it really belongs.
“Angel.” He says succinctly.
“Did you have any luck Angel?” The smooth sounds of Wes’ soft English
voice rolls over him and he winces slightly. It’s really not the voice he would
prefer to be listening to right now. He loves his friend but sometimes just the
sound of his voice is like salt rubbed in a wound even though he’s forgiven him
for his part in losing son.
“Well since I found Spike before she could finish him off, I’d say I’d
won the lottery.” He says with a quiet snarl, pitching his voice low and hoping
that he can avoid disturbing the restorative sleep Spike’s fallen into.
He gives him a quick glance a little worried but relaxes somewhat as he
remains peacefully sleeping. He’s still concerned as few injuries force them
into the restorative state and silently curses at his realization that his
internal injuries must be more severe than he first thought, despite the fact
that his exterior ones are already healing.
“She’s that dangerous then.” Wes says concerned. “I called Rupert; he
said he’s sent his top man to help us recover her. Is Spike alright? Should I
have a medical team standing by in the garage?”
The weight on his still heart lifts somewhat at Wes’ concerned tone.
It’s clear that he’s come to care about his feral Childe in his own quietly
reserved way. “He’ll be alright in an hour or two Wesley.”
“An hour or *two*? That sounds pretty serious….”
“I’ll take care of him myself Wes. I’ve had enough of this game of
subterfuge. I want to know who this ‘Doyle’ person is and I want to know as
soon as possible Wesley, understand?” Angel growls.
“Angel we discussed this at length. We have more to gain by letting them
reveal their plans than we do trying to counter them without any idea of what
we may be facing.” Wes’ voice is clearly chiding him for his impatience and
deviation from their plans.
“When you watch your Childe flying out of a fourth story window a
psychotic Slayers just tossed him through we’ll discuss being patient.” The
tone of his voice is calm but the underlying growl betrays his fury. “They sent
Spike in blind and it almost got him killed. It’s not happening again Wesley.”
His eyes flash with feral amber as his lip curls up in a silent snarl to
display the tip of one deadly fang.
“I’ll get the Mystics started on finding a spell that will crack through
his defences.” Wesley says immediately and without argument. “I’ll have Harmony
make sure that everything you’ll need to tend to Spike is ready and waiting in
your apartment. Gunn has manufactured an emergency that requires Eve’s
presence, she should be distracted for quite a while. I’ll send the Security
Teams out on a sweep for our rogue Slayer; that should clear the way for you as
it’s after hours and we’re running a skeleton crew.”
“Thank you Wesley. We’re twenty minutes out, that should give you time
to set everything in motion. Call the members of the Alpha squad you and Gunn
picked out. This Slayer is too dangerous to try and take on a solo basis if she
could get the drop on Spike. I want them on stand-by with tranquillizer darts
set to maximum yield Wesley. I think we may get only one shot at this.”
“I’ll take care of it personally Angelus.” Wes promises. “You just take
care of Spike and leave the rest to us. See you soon.”
Angelus smiles at the thought that Wesley is learning quickly how to
differentiate between him and his Souled half but he has to admit that lately
there is less and less of a division. He reaches over and disconnects the call
and lets his hand continue over to tenderly caress his Childe’s hair. They’ll
be home soon and he can tend to his Boy properly.
Chapter Eleven
As they near the underground parking lot he reaches over and carefully
rubs the back of his hand against Spike’s cheek. “Wake up Wil; we’re almost
there and I need for you to have your wits about you until we’re clear. We have
to be ready in case Eve’s managed to avoid Wesley’s sweeps and planted more
bugs.” His touch is gentle but his tone is firm and Spike immediately stirs in
response to the thread of command in his Sire’s voice.
He straightens in the car seat and squares his shoulder, forcing his
tired features into his usual expression of supreme confidence. The
transformation is startling but Angelus knows it for the thin veneer that it
is. “I’m ready Sire. I’m getting damned tired of being jerked around like
this!”
Angelus leaves his hand on his cheek for a long lingering caress before
he lets it fall away to shift gear. “As am I, my Lad. Wesley is going to talk
to the Mystics, we’ll have our answers soon. We’ve waited long enough, we’ve
been reacting when we should have been acting and forcing them to move to our
pace before they were ready. We’ve lost the advantage, I should have argued for
a more aggressive approach.” He says, being somewhat disgusted by allowing his
instincts to be tempered with his concern for their Human friends. No one
should matter more than the safety of his Childe, a sacred promise he’s failed
to fulfil on this night.
“Wesley’s plan made sense too Angelus, it’s why we decided to play it
this way.” His voice is strong but the underlying tone is still weak with
injury and fatigue but he knows that weakness will not leak out once they step
out of this car.
If his William has learned anything through the years, it is to disguise
his vulnerabilities almost as well as he does his strengths. As much as his Boy
would deny his intelligence a keen understanding of tactics and the classical
education of a well to do young man in Victorian England have given him an
incredible wealth of skills to draw from. He knows that Spike prefers to hide
the fact that he was uncommonly intelligent as a Human but there is little
doubt that by most Vampire standards he would be considered a genius. He’s
never accepted the status quo, he learns and adapts constantly and it is one of
the reasons that he is as strong as he is at such a young age, comparatively
speaking. A Vampire that cannot learn to adapt and change is soon dust in the
wind.
He turns the car into the garage with easy skill, pulling neatly into
the space assigned and shuts off the car and shuts it off and whispers. “It’s
show time, my Boy.” He throws open the car door and sweeps out of the car with
an arrogant swish of his coat.
He closes the door and strides for the elevator, without looking back to
see if Spike is following him. “Move your ass Spike. I’ve wasted enough time
saving you for one night you pain in the ass.” He doesn’t even bother to look
around just carries on with his muttered tirade as though unconcerned about the
younger Vampire. He pulls his ID out of his pocket and swipes it through the
card reader slot that guards the private elevator and breezes inside turning to
watch as Spike makes his way towards him with his characteristic lithe grace.
“Sorry am I keeping you waiting?
Feeling the minutes piling on to those centuries Angel?” Spike quips as he
walks towards him, smiling as his sharp tongue touches off the inevitable
argument. Their voices ring through the garage as the doors close cutting off
their argument.
As soon as the doors are closed tightly and the car is moving upward
Angelus darts forward and sweeps Spike off his feet, cradling him against his chest.
He breathes a sigh of relief as his Childe lets his head fall forward and he
melts into his embrace. If his heart could still beat it would be hammering now
at the unspoken gesture of trust from his Boy. He never thought to be given
such a gift again.
As the elevator doors open at the floor; that houses his private
penthouse; he isn’t surprised to see a concerned Harmony hovering in the open
doorway. At his appearance she hurriedly opens the second door and scrambles
out of the way so that he can carry Spike in easily. Once they’re through she
quickly closes and locks the doors after them before following her Elder to
help care for the injured Spike.
Chapter Twelve
The elevator opens and Angel and Spike walk off it into the lobby. Angel
predictably looks like he wants to strangle the annoying blond walking with
him.
"A psychotic vampire slayer." Spike says sounding almost
amused but a little confused, as though contemplating some grand joke being
played on him.
"How many times you gonna keep saying that?" Angel glances at
him with an annoyed sigh.
"Just tryin' to wrap my lobes around it. A psycho slayer."
Spike repeats again as Angel sighs with am exasperated air again, leaving the
definite impression that this is a conversation they've already had several
times.
"And you let her get away." Angel says with a superior looking
half smirk on his face.
"At least I was tryin' to stop her." Spike says heatedly.
"Oh, how'd that work out?" The slight chuckle in his voice
gets a bristling reaction from Spike.
"At least I know the game, now, don't I? I killed 2 slayers with my
own hands. Think I can handle one that's gone daft in the melon." Spike
says confidently.
"You're not handling anything, Spike. OK? Wes contacted Rupert
Giles. He's sending his top guy to retrieve her." Angel's voice makes it
clear that the matter is closed for discussion; so naturally they argue about
it all the way into the conference room.
Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and Lorne are waiting arrayed in various spots
around the room talking to someone sitting with their back to them. As the pair
pours into the room, arguing quietly amongst themselves, everyone turns to face
them.
"Angel. We were just about to...." Wesley starts to say.
The man sitting with his back to them turns to look over his shoulder
and Spike's eyes widen and he can't help but stare. His hair is slightly longer
and he's wearing a suit and tie and holding a pipe but Spike still recognizes
Andrew.
"Spike?" Andrew hurriedly sets down the pipe clutched in his shaking hand before
he can drop it and look like a total moron in front of these people he's trying
to impress. As he stares at the vision of blond godhood before him none of them
matter anymore.
"Oh, for the love of...." Spike starts to say as he sees a
familiar semi-fanatical light flare to life in Andrew's eyes. He wonders
briefly if it will look bad if he bolts out of the conference room?
"Spike?" Andrew says again, a touch of wonder and genuine delight in his voice.
He must have decided on his own answer as he stands shakily. He is suddenly
across the room throwing his weight against Spike, wiggling happily as his
headlong rush is absorbed easily by the steely strength of the black leather
clad blond. He can't help himself as his hands are suddenly clasping those
inhumanly strong shoulders in a tight death grip. "It's you. It's really
you!"
He can't help the sobbing tears that rip their way out of him as he runs
his hands over the powerful t-shirt covered chest. He throws his arms around
him, hugging him tightly. "My therapist thought I was holding onto false
hope, but... I knew you'd come back." He pulls away after a few seconds to
lean back and look Spike in the eye, still having trouble believing his eyes.
Spike sneaks a peek at his Sire and almost flinches as he meets that
narrow-eyed gaze that is almost more topaz than brown at the sight of this
strange human running his hands all over him. He silently meets that gaze with
one of his own proclaiming his allegiance silently in ways no human could understand
and his Sire relaxes marginally.
Andrew screws up his courage to do something he never dared to before.
"You're like... you're like Gandalf the White, resurrected from the pit of
the Balrog," He touches his palms to those razor-sharp cheeks that have
always fascinated him so. "More beautiful than
ever." He throws his arms around his neck and clings tightly, tears
still leaking from his eyes. "Ohhh... he's alive, Frodo." A final sob
and he chokes out a last emotional outburst. "He's alive."
"You two know each other?" Angel can't stop a smirk from
flashing across his face at the sight of his powerful and deadly Childe at a
loss at how to deal with a clinging human. He knows better than to return the
touches he notes with an arrogantly pleased expression that he quickly covers
up as Spike stands stiffly in the young man's embrace. He almost laughs at loud
at the uncomfortable and slightly apologetic glance his young one shoots at
him, as though pleading for help. He's of course too amused by Spike's discomfort
to even consider helping him right away. It's not often that something can
render his Childe vulnerable, even temporarily.
Andrew steps back from Spike, sniffles, straightens his lapels, not
wanting to appear like a total buffoon in front of Spike or these others that
he's heard so much about.
"Uh, yeah. Um... We—we saved the world together. I mean,
Buffy helped, but... it was mostly us." He clears his throat to steady his
voice. "Uh, so what happened? Last I heard, you
went all pillar of fire down in the Hellmouth?"
Angel finally takes pity on his uncomfortable Childe and decides to help
distract the young man from his apparent Spike-centric fixation. "Could we
save memory lane till after we contain this psychotic super powered killing
machine?" What could Giles be thinking, to send a
little boy to help them out? He was expecting an expert, not someone he'd have
to baby-sit... and watch drool over his Boy. He walks around the table and
takes a seat beside Wesley, deciding the strange young man may live as he moves
away from Spike.
"We were just about to bring everyone up to speed on slayer
mythology." Wesley starts to say.
"I'll take it from here, Pryce. Best they hear it from an
expert." Andrew interrupts with a very good impression of Giles at his
most pompous.
"Oh, right. Let the top man have a go." Spike says amused by
Andrew's antics and not altogether successful attempts to become Giles Jr.
Wesley stifles a scoffing snort and sits down. "Please... enlighten
us."
"Gather around and attend to a most unusual tale... a tale I like
to call... The Slayer of the Vampyrs." Andrew
begins his grand tale and recounts the origins of Slayers and how
Andrew happily recounting his tales and enjoying his minute in the
spotlight doesn't notice the dark eyes following his every time he glances at
Spike worshipfully. The topaz flecks in his eyes intensify until they almost
eclipse the brown and a sub vocal growl rumbles warningly from deep in his
chest.
Unfortunately known of them took into account what would happen to all
the young women once they were suddenly transformed into Slayers. No one
stopped to wonder if all the potentials were mentally suited to be Slayers and
it was that short-sightedness that has been their downfall. An already mentally
disturbed young woman, tortured and traumatized by an all too human evil,
suddenly inundated with the nightmares about Slayers and Demons and it's a
recipe for disaster.
Spike shoots a worried look at his Sire, shivering at the look in his
eyes as he watches Andrew and knows that he's maybe one minute away from
climbing over the conference table and sinking his fangs into the harmless
human.
"Explains why that skirt was yappin' at me in Chinese. Must've
thought she was the slayer I took out back in the Boxer Rebellion." He
says to distract his Sire.
"You mean the slayer you murdered." Angel says flashing him a
dark look as he redirects his ire from Andrew to his Boy. It's making him crazy
to see how that pitiful excuse for a human boy is clearly fawning after his
Childe. The more he thinks about it the angrier he's getting but unable to face
that it is his own insecurity fuelling it and nothing that Spike or Andrew have
done.
"Well, I didn't have a soul back then, did I?" He shoots a
fairly hurt glance at his Sire, his muscles tensing at the unexpected blow.
"Right, 'cause having one now is making such a difference."
Angel finds himself replying but his dead heart clenches
as he sees Spike's quickly covered up flinch.
Spike's had enough of being a punching bag for his Sire. maybe some things never will change after all and he heads
for the door, really needing to get out of there. "You corporates go ahead
with your talky-talk. Anybody needs me, I'll be out doin' his job."
He says flippantly as he stalks from the room.
"Spike!" Angel says worried as he realizes that Spike truly means to leave and
he hurries to follow him out of the conference room. "Spike?
You think this is a joke?"
"Only if you're the punch line." Spike says hurriedly, seeing a flash of paisley and tan from a darkened
office doorway and remembers seeing Eve dressed in a paisley skirt and tan
blouse earlier.
"Look, we're the last 2 people that should be confronting her.
She's a slayer. She has every reason to hate us, and she's unstable. In her
mind, there probably aren't any good Vampyrs." Angel grimaces as he realizes he
mispronounced it like Andrew and corrects himself. "Vampires.
She exists for one reason; to destroy creatures like us."
"Dance of death. Eternal struggle. Right. Got it." Spike catches
his Sire's eye and opens the blood link between them, silently flashing him the
impression of Eve spying on them. He sees the flash of recognition in Angel's
eyes as he nods and turns to walk away.
"You will...when she's staking you in the heart." Angel says
insultingly but the bond between them flares with his very genuine concern for
Spike's safety.
Spike stops and turns to face Angel. "What do you want me to do? Go
all boo-hoo 'cause she got tortured and driven out of her gourd? Not like we
haven't done worse back in the day." He says insultingly but floods the
bond with a message very different from the verbal one he's spewing for Eve's
benefit. He compresses his intentions to merely track the rogue Slayer to where
she is holed up but he won't fight her.
"Yeah, and it's something I'm still paying for." Angel says
frustrated. He is comforted by Spike's capitulation and understanding of his
fears but he still doesn't want to let his Childe undertake such a dangerous
mission. The unpredictable Slayer has already injured him and he fears the next
confrontation could be much worse without him there to look after his Boy. He's
already lost him twice; once to his cursed Soul and then to the machinations of
a manipulative Slayer; that is more than enough for a million lifetimes.
"And you should let it go, mate. It's startin' to make you look
old." Spike turns away and resumes his walk to the elevators. They both
know that Spike is the best tracker they know and if anyone can track her
through the underbelly of this city it is him. It will take the Security forces
weeks, and untold deaths, to do what he can do in a night's work and
reluctantly Angel gives him his blessings to try.
Andrew is standing in the office door, sipping from a juice-box and
watching Angel and Spike talk. His eyes follow Spike's swaying black duster as
he disappears into the elevator and his gaze slips to where he can see the doorway
to the stairwell down a near by hallway.
Chapter Thirteen
Spike has been methodical in his search, revisiting the places he's
known his quarry has been and tracking her movements through the city with the
skill and tenacity of a predator in a blood trail. Which he in fact is but he
has no intention of killing his prey this time, just finding her.
Her trail leads down to the waterfront and he walks past some shipping
containers and his nose twitches as a familiar and not altogether welcome scent
is caught on the wind. He stalks down to the edge of the dock and pauses beside
some other shipping containers and sighs.
It's obvious that his shadow isn't going to give up and go home and he
weighs whether or not to let on he knows he's there. Ultimately it's probably
safer to keep him where he can watch him than leaving him to skulk around after
him and possibly getting hurt. Or maybe he can convince, scare, or intimidate
him into going back to Wolfram & Hart. Though from the looks his Sire was
shooting at him, he's not sure if that's actually a safer place to be or not,
he thinks with dark humour.
"Right. We can play cat and mouse all night." He turns his
head and his arms dart into the shadows and pulls Andrew out of the darkness by
his lapels. "Or I could wedgie you unconscious and be done with it."
He lets Andrew go with an exasperated scowl. He just can't help but like the
pipsqueak, he's totally inept but he has the heart of a lion. He admits to
having a soft spot for the little geek, he's one of the few people that have
ever overlooked his past to befriend him.
"Bravo. I see your senses seem to be as well-honed as your Viggo
Mortensen pectorals." Andrew says straightening his clothing.
Spike hides his shudder at that visual and continues his stalking walk
along the docks.
"What are you doin' out here, Andrew?"
Andrew hurries to follow Spike, preferring the safety of his company to
the dark shadows of a city he's only visited once before. "This is where
the action is, bro. On the mean streets. Can you dig
it?"
Spike almost laughs at the image of Andrew as a streetwise man of
action. "Go back to Wolfram & Hart. Don't have time for games."
"That's good, 'cause Andy ain't playin'." Andrew says proudly
whipping open his coat to display the array of weaponry hanging from the
lining. "You're not the only one who's changed. Mr. Giles has been
training me. I'm faster, stronger, and eighty-two percent more manly than the
last time we...." Andrew grunts as he pitches forward
onto the ground and looks around in confusion, wondering what made him trip. He
stares at the bloody remains of what was once a man and screams unabashedly.
Spike winces as the sharp girlish scream pierces his sensitive ears. He
quickly drops into a crouch and pulls Andrew back against him and cups his chin
to turn his face away from the grisly sight. He lets Andrew cling to him,
shaken and trembling and taking comfort in his presence as he lets his senses
slip from their reins. He sighs at the knowledge that the man is beyond help and
he turns his own eyes from the bloody temptation of his lifeblood.
"There's nothing that we can do for him, Andrew. This didn't happen
very long ago and she may still be nearby." Spike says, patting Andrew's
back. He's a little surprised by how gentle his voice sounds but as Andrew
turns his face into his chest and trembles he admits that he feels protective
about the helpless young Human.
"How can you tell?" The sound of Andrew's voice is muffled as
his face is trying to burrow into his t-shirt without much success.
He wonders for a moment just how honest he should be and decides that
for his own safety Andrew should learn more about the life he’s chosen; if he’s
going to continue to throw himself headlong into this dangerous career than he
has a lot to learn. “The scavengers haven’t gotten to the body yet, with easy
food like this, the body will be drained and stripped to the bone by morning.”
He says bluntly. “There are a lot of nasty and hungry creatures hanging around
down here that won’t pass up easy meat.”
Andrew flinches and hurriedly scrambles to his feet with Spike’s help,
throwing himself away from the dead body, grateful for Spike’s support.
Spike guides Andrew away from the body and they’re several hundred feet
away before Andrew recovers and levers himself out of Spike’s hold and stands
up on his own. Spike runs an assessing eye over the young man and nods, he’s
recovering faster than he would have expected. He digs his cell phone out of
his pocket and quickly phones in a call to Wolfram & Hart’s tactical center
and reports the body. He knows that they’ll dispatch a clean up squad who will
take care of the unfortunate man as they have the others they’ve been finding
tonight. He sees Andrew glancing back the way they’ve come and he reaches out
and gently turns his face away until he’s looking forward again.
“Don’t spend so much time looking back on things that you can’t change
Andrew. You’ll miss something right in front of you that may be a hell of a lot
meaner than a memory.” Spike says gruffly, hiding a proud smile and Andrew nods
and straightens his shoulders, moving forward with new purpose.
“I can’t believe that no one told me you were alive… I mean back Spike.”
Andrew says a little miffed.
“Well I’m not sure they….” Spike’s voice trails off. “How are they? Do
you talk to them often?”
"Well, mostly, I talk to Rupert. But we all check in. Xander's in
Spike scents the air as they walk along, making sure they're still on
the trail.
Andrew inhales deeply and makes a reflexive gagging motion and exhales
quickly as the scent of the docks is less than aromatic even to his less sensitive
nose. he wonders how Spike can stand to be here.
"What's it smell like? Blood, I mean?"
Spike is a little thrown by the question and how to answer it in a way a
human could understand in their limited fashion. He spots a dull oxidized
copper glint for a few feet away and it gives him an idea. "Oh...metallic,
sorta. You ever taste a penny?"
Andrew thinks for a moment. "No. Wait... no." He finally says,
shaking his head and looking a little disappointed.
"It smells like that." He says, scanning the shadows to avoid
laughing as he sees Andrew spot the old penny and darting over to pick it up.
“So, uh...you heard from Buffy lately?" He says trying to distract himself
from laughing as he watches Andrew eyeing the penny and wondering if he's truly
naive enough to do what he looks like he's thinking of doing.
"Yeah. Of course, uh...she's in
"Well.
"Yeah. She was rounding slayers up in
"I don't think so. I mean... I don't know. Does she?" He
sounds nervous and worried.
"No. N-no. She can't. I mean... I—I would've heard about it. We
would've had a conference call." Andrew says positively. It's not every
day a hero comes back from the dead and he's positive that if anyone knows
they'd have told everyone else.
Spike sighs relieved that Buffy and Giles are still unaware of his
return. One less worry on his mind. If they discover
he's back that could lead to some ugly confrontations as he knows Angelus is
just biding his time to address what they did to him.
Andrew hears Spike sigh and misunderstands it's cause and looks at him sympathetically,
assuming he must be nervous about talking to Buffy. "Why haven't you told
her?"
Spike hides his shiver of reaction at the thought of having to speak to
her, knowing what he knows and decides to hide behind his usual shield of
sarcastic humour. "Hello, Buffy. It's Spike. I didn't burn up like you
thought. How are things?"
Andrew looks at him sadly. He can't imagine having to find a way to tell
someone something like that almost a year after they believed he was gone.
"Uh...do you want me to tell her? 'Cause I—I'm really good with those...uh, delicate
personal...."
"No. Don't tell her. I'll take care of it." Spike says
hurriedly, panicked at the thought of being 'outed' before he's ready. He
adopts his best cool Vampire look and adds a swagger to his walk.
"Got it. You're a loner... playin' it cucumber, as in 'cool as a'...."
Andrew babbles, taken aback by how handsome the Vampire is. Spike's always been
the most beautiful man he's ever seen but he's never really stopped to consider
just how compelling he is too. He's like a complex puzzle, the more you examine
it and the more you need to solve it until it has no mystery left to be surrendered.
"Just keep your mouth shut." Spike says in a soft growl, his
head panning around as he looks around, his keen eyes
scanning the dark shadows around them. He doesn't see the slightly darker
shadow of a watcher peering down at them from the shadows of a nearby rooftop.
"No problem, brother. You're a troubled hero. Creature of the
night. El creatro
"Please stop." Spike says tiredly. Something is nipping at the
edges of his instincts but Andrew's self-imposed voice-over monologue is
distracting him. He just hopes it won't prove to be a fatal distraction.
"Living by his own rules. Unafraid of anything or anyone...."
Spike wonders if the tactical squad would mind picking up one more body.
Back at Wolfram & Hart
Angel and Lorne walk off of the elevator together discussing the case
and Gunn and Wesley walk over to meet them.
"Hey. How'd it go?" Gunn asks sounding hopeful.
"I want to find the guy who killed Dana's family. His name, his
past, his whereabouts. I want everything." Angel orders.
"The Police never caught him." Gunn starts to say but Angel
interrupts.
"Yeah, well, we're not the police. Search her files. Talk to her
contacts. Raise the dead, if you have to. Just...find him." Maybe if we
find him we can figure out where she is and find her before Spike does. Or she
finds him. He relaxes as Gunn nods and walks away, reaching for his cell phone
without an argument. "Lorne, I want to know where he took her after he
abducted her. The psychic narrowed it down to a basement that smells like
molasses. Look, we can do better. Start cracking the whip." He orders.
"You got it, chief!" Lorne nods, proud he's able to do
something useful to help. He walks away shouting for his personal assistant.
"Danny! We're gonna need a whip!"
Angel and Wesley walk into his office and as soon as the door is
securely closed he rounds on the ex-Watcher.
"Has Spike checked in?" He asks worriedly.
"He called in to the tactical squad about a body he'd found. He's
apparently still on her trail and doing a better job of it than the security
and tactical teams are." Wesley reports. "You were right by the way,
Andrew did follow him. I could hear him chattering in the background while
Spike was making the call to report the body."
Angel growls softly, promising himself that he's going to eat that
little nitwit as soon as he comes back! If anyone should be with William, it's
*him*.
"I had the tactical teams shift their attention to Spike's last
reported position. They're on their way there now." Wesley says hurriedly,
not liking the look in Angel... or is it Angelus' eyes? Right now he's hard
pressed to say which of them it is.
"Tell them that *Spike* is their priority Wesley, not the Slayer. I
want him found and I want him found *now*. Give them orders to follow his
instructions in the field but they're to protect him, make that *verra* clear
to them Wesley." Angel growls and turning on his heel and heads for the
door with an angry stride.
Wesley exhales gratefully as he leaves and returns to his own office,
where he can hear him barking orders to Fred and the technicians that have been
maintaining the activity board tracking their efforts to locate Dana. He picks
up his phone to make the call and hopes for the tactical squad's sake that they
find Spike in a timely manner. If something happens to Spike in the meantime,
he doesn't give them very good odds of surviving the mistake.
Chapter Fourteen
Spike catches the faint traces of copper, iron, fear and desperation and
turns until it is the strongest and follows it towards it. He hears Andrew
prattling on about seemingly anything and everything but he's not really paying
attention, his senses focused on tracking and making sure to keep Andrew safely
behind him. Spike's walking briskly down the alley as Andrew tries his best to
keep up and talk at the same time.
"And—and so I say, "well, the two of us disagree with you,
hombre." And—and he's all... "The two of you?"
And I say, "Yeah. Me and my electric net."
Then...." Andrew stops walking when he almost runs into Spike's back as he
stops suddenly. "What's wrong?"
Spike sniffs delicately. "It's Blood but it smells different,
stronger."
"Like nickels?" Andrew says brightly and Spike shoots him an
exasperated look as he locks in the scent and runs around a corner following
the strongest scent trail. It's an alley littered with fifty-five gallon drums
and years of detritus and neglect.
Andrew nearly ploughs into his back as he scrambles to follow. "Dead end."
Spike hears the comment but doesn't respond as he sees a dark streak on
one of the alley walls. He doesn't have to get very close to realize what it
is. suddenly Andrew's innocent comment has taken on an
unhealthy connotation. "It's her blood." As soon as he says it he
starts to spin around, realizing that the streak isn't evidence. It's bait.
The rogue Slayer appears in the alley, and she punches Andrew in the
head, knocking him out of the way viciously. Seeing Andrew go down Spike darts
forward, lashing out hard and forcing the insane woman away from a vulnerable
Andrew. A solid punch sends her hurtling into a drum and giving him time to put
himself between her and Andrew. She stands up and punches and kicks him and he
counters by smashing her head into another drum, groaning as she elbows him in
the stomach.
He's able to catch hold of her arm and swings her across the alley into
a stack of drums, hearing that Andrew is getting up, grateful he's not hurt. He
spares a glance out of the corner of his eye and sees Andrew pull a gun out of
his jacket but that millisecond is enough for Dana to strike back and knock him
down. It gives Andrew his chance and he aims the gun at Dana and shoots, the
explosive sound of compressed air and the thick dart-like shape indicating it
is a tranquilizer gun. Unfortunately the Slayer sees Andrew's motions and
dodges the dart. Andrew hurries to reload, but she kicks him in the face,
knocking him down again as she runs past him and out of the alley. Spike gets
to his feet and runs after her. She knows she's being tracked and she's turned
from hunted to the hunter and the tactical teams will be sitting ducks. Her
body count is only going to escalate if he can't find her.
Spike's running after the Slayer, tracking her by scent and the flashes
of movement his sensitive eyes can catch but stops short as he passes a
darkened doorway. He turns to look in and his nose flares slightly and he
decides to follow the hallway. After descending the stairs at the end of the
hall, he finds himself in the basement where the Slayer is standing there
waiting for him. He takes a deep unnecessary breath and takes a step closer
with his hands raised to show he’s unarmed.
In the alley Andrew's finally gotten to his feet, shaken and weak. He
tries to see if he can find out which way Spike went but with no sign and no
senses to track him with he knows it's hopeless. He turns and runs back the way
he came as he suddenly remembers that he knows another Vampire and runs as fast
as he can to hail a cab. He has to get back to Wolfram & Hart and get
Angel. Hopefully they can get to him before it's too late for Spike.
Chapter Fifteen
Gunn points to a wall-mounted map of the city, indicating where the
tactical team picked up the body Spike phoned in.
"Tactical found the body here—Fourth and
Angel leans forward and looks at the map, wondering which of the tiny
boxes currently hides his Childe from him. He knows that something is wrong,
the blood link between Spike and himself has been constricted almost to nothing
and that would only be happening for three reasons. One his Childe is dust but
with their blood bond renewed and strengthened with the Sire's bond he has
assumed in Drusilla's place, he would have felt it if that had happened. There
is no force on the planet that could sever their connection enough to hide
Spike's destruction, not with his status as the Elder of their order to
strengthen it, so he knows he's alive.
The second is if someone is able to cast a strong enough cloaking spell
but they have no indication that this Slayer is either strong enough or sane
enough to be wielding magic on the scale required. He's not even sure that
Wesley or any of the mystics they employ could manage it.
It is the third option that him the most scared of all. Spike is deliberately
blocking the link to protect him. The thought chills him to the bone but he
pushes the panic away. If he's going to find Spike he needs to stay calm.
"Oh, great. She's staying in the area. Let's get aerial
surveillance up, thermal imaging. Have them go block to bloc, five-mile
radius." He orders, pushing back from the map.
"What exactly are they looking for? I mean, this is an industrial
area. Most of the buildings have a basement of some sort." Gunn says
frustrated by their lack of progress and the ever increasing body count.
"Lorne, any luck with the psychics on this place?" Angel asks
hoping for anything that will help them to narrow it down.
"No. Nothin' new. It's still cold, creepy, and smells like
molasses." Lorne says tiredly, wondering if a bigger whip would help.
"What about...." Wesley trails off with a blush of
embarrassment and a chuckle. "I almost said the words 'molasses factory'
out loud." He shakes his head and looks down at the stack of papers in his
hands.
Fred suddenly remembers a vacation her family took to
"Oh, God bless you, kitten. I was just about to suggest the same
thing." Lorne says relieved that she brought up the idea of a break and
not him. Angel's been pushing them non-stop to find the Slayer and no doubt
Spike will be nearby. He doesn't need to wonder which of the two Angel is more
eager to find, not after hearing Spike sing and watching them dance at that
Birthday party.
"No. I mean, when you're cookin' up whiskey, it makes the whole
room smell like molasses." She says, remembering the factory tour and that
the whole building smelt like rich, sugary molasses.
Angel looks excited; this may be the first break they've had in finding
Spike. "Look for a distillery. Get maps from 10 years ago. Maybe
it's...." the sharp smell of blood brings Angel's head snapping around to
stare at the bedraggled young man that has just drug his lead-filled feet into
his office.
"Andrew." Fred says hurrying forward to check on his injuries.
Andrew winces as Fred probes his bloody and bruised features with a
gently hand and pushes her hand away and looks at Angel. "We were
attacked. I think she got him. I think she got Spike." He says exhausted.
Angel darts forward as Andrew starts to topple over and supports his
weight, helping guide Andrew to a chair,
as he shares a scared look with Fred over his bent head. Wes shoots a quick
look at Gunn and together they each dive for a phone, intending to look for
city records on distilleries. Lorne runs to a side cupboard and pulls out a
hefty first aid kit and runs it over to Fred who immediately starts patching
Andrew's injuries.
Angel starts to move away but is surprised when Andrew catches his hand
and holds on tightly. He looks down and meets Andrew's tear-filled eyes and his
demeanour melts marginally at the very real fear and worry in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Angel, I think he was trying to protect me, protect us all,
when he went after her. I'm so sorry."
Angel lifts his hand to the back of his head and after a brief
hesitation he strokes Andrew's hair. "We'll find him Andrew. He's not
dead; I'd know if he was. As long as Spike's alive he'll fight his hardest to
stay that way until we can get to him. Rest and let Fred take care of you for
you now." He gently pulls his hand away from Andrew and joins Wes and Gunn
on the phones. It's time to find his Boy.
Chapter Sixteen
Angel watches as the tactical team secure their prisoner and motions for
Wesley to go with them before giving in to his fury and grief and turning to
look at his mutilated Childe. "Get the med team down here. Now!" Their blood bond strengthened by their proximity
and his dominance as Sire allows him to push through the protective blockage
Spike has thrown across the link. He pushes his strength of will along the bond
and watches as Spike relaxes into a sigh, letting his eyes drop closed. He
walks over and grabs the chains and internalizing his emotions he rips through
them in a few violent tugs.
He kneels in time to catch Spike as he slumps over and pulls him against
his body, wrapping his own coat around him to stave off shock. He turns his
gaze from the gruesome sight of those graceful hands hacked off at the forearm
and thrown haphazardly on the table. He strokes Spike's hair and chest purring
softly, comforting his grievously injured Childe in the only way he can right
now. The whisper of a footfall has him looking up and he sees that Wesley has
quietly returned, having exchanged his tranquillizer rifle for a high-powered
and extremely lethal Semi-automatic.
Angel realizes as Wesley stands well clear and positions himself between
them and the doorway that he's returned to guard them and he nods his
appreciation. He notices that Wesley flinches from the sight of the severed
trophies and angles his back so that he can't see them and turns his attention
to the job of guarding them.
Angel and Angelus together curl around their Childe and whisper brokenly
in Gaelic, trying to soothe and comfort their barely conscious Boy.
Fred runs in leading a team of medical technicians from Wolfram &
Hart's medical division, pushing a gurney loaded with medical equipment. She
can't stifle a cry of horror as she spots Spike's severed hands, despite having
been warned by Wesley what to expect. She grabs one of the technicians and
shoves an ice chest packed with dry ice at him and pushes him towards the table
and their gruesome offering.
"I want those packed up *carefully* for transfer. We need them as
viable as possible if we're going to reattach them successfully." She
orders before jerking her head at the other two technicians and motioning them
to pull the gurney over to where Angel is bent protectively over Spike.
"Fred maybe you should...." Angel pauses and jerks his head toward
Wesley as he carefully manoeuvres his arm under Spike’s knees as he wraps his
other arm around his back and prepares to lift him onto the gurney himself. He
pauses as Fred drops to one knee beside him to stroke the hairs that have
fallen over Spike’s eye back into place.
“He’s our friend too Angel. We want to help him so let us help you?”
Fred says quietly, letting her free hand rest on Angel’s shoulder. “Wesley told
me what to expect and I’m not afraid.”
Angel gives her a small thankful
smile and cradles his Childe as Fred tenderly wraps the stumps of his arms with
a special sub-zero dry ice tape to preserve the nerve-endings and retard his
vampiric healing long enough for them to have a chance to reattach his severed
hands. As she finishes, the technicians prepare the gurney and the monitoring
equipment.
Angelus watches, from the part of Angel’s mind that is his, how tenderly
Fred takes care of Spike and he glances over at Wesley; who is still hovering
protectively nearby. He remembers how hard all of them worked to find his Boy
and he knows in that moment that even if his Souled half were to flee they
would be safe. He will never harm them now… they’re… family. Angelus snarls
silently as Angel makes his pleasure with that decision known as he willingly
steps aside to allow his un-souled half to share consciousness with him.
“Okay Angel, we’re ready to take him now.” Fred says gently, moving away
and motioning for the paramedics to take a few steps back as well.
Angel nods his thanks and lifts his Childe tenderly with the ease of a
man picking up a feather and places him carefully onto the gurney. Fred waits
until he’s settled Spike and then steps forward to tuck a blanket over Spike.
Angel cups her shoulder and she looks up at him with her heart in her eyes.
“Fred I’m entrusting him to *your* care. I can’t go with him, I have to
stay here, and he’d want me to finish what he started. Please take care of
him.” Angel says earnestly.
“I swear that I won’t leave him for a moment Angel, not even in surgery.
I won’t leave him alone, I promise. He’s one of our own and we take care of our
own.” She swears, looking determined as she motions demandingly at the
paramedic technicians. “Move him, *carefully*.” She orders imperiously sweeping
out after them, grabbing her cell phone and dialling a number as she follows
the swiftly retreating Paramedics. Angelus notices with a pleased air that they
are moving fast but carefully; towards the ambulance they have standing by.
Fred's on the cell phone as the paramedics wheel Spike on a gurney into
the ambulance.
"Get it prepped. Put surgical on standby. We'll be there in 10
minutes. Oh, for God's sake! Tell the shaman no cadavers!" She sighs and
looks back as one of the technicians is handling the cooler with Spike's hands
with caution and care as ordered. "We've got his hands." She gets in
the ambulance after Spike is loaded and they're soon on their way. Angel's gaze
following them until they are beyond sight as he follows a group of armed
guards escorting Dana's gurney with Wesley walking beside her. He can feel
Angelus' rage and desire to kill her for what she's done to Spike and he can't
honestly say that he doesn't share the sentiment but part of him knows that she
isn't responsible for the things she's done. She's a victim as much as Spike is
and the one truly responsible is long dead.
"Chain her into the van. I want armed guards riding with her in the
back." Angel says grimly.
"That's all right, boys. I'll take it from here." Andrew says,
stepping forward and looking nervous and grim but not altogether unsympathetic.
"What?" Angel says incredulously, not believing that Andrew
would pull something like this when he's at least
partially responsible for Spike's injuries.
"Totally 'preciate your help on this one, big guy. Never could've
found her without you, but you got enough problems of your own to worry
about." Andrew looks shaken and his words are stiff and unnatural, as
though they've been rehearsed.
"Get outta the way, Andrew." Angel orders, making a move to
stop around him.
Andrew steps in Angel's path and meets his eyes and a strange expression
crosses his face. "She's a slayer. That means she's ours." He stares
at Angel willing him to understand that these actions are not being taken by
his choice.
"Yeah. Sorry. Not how it works." Angel turns to the guards
escorting Dana's gurney. "Load her up. Don't hesitate to tranq her if she
so much as...." Angel is taken aback as Andrew steps up until he's right
in his face.
"No. I don't think you... heard me, Angel." From behind them a
group of young women walks out from the shadows to back up Andrew. "Think
we're just gonna let you take her back to your evil stronghold? Well, as they
say in
"She's psychotic, and I'm not turning her over... to you."
Angel says defiantly; not after what she did to his Childe not to mention the
other unfortunates to cross her path. There’s no way that Andrew *or* his
Slayer girl-toys are capable of handling her.
"You don't have a choice. Check the view screen, Uhura. I got 12
Vampyr Slayers behind me, and not one of them has ever dated you. She's coming
with us one way or another." Andrew says with nervous finality.
"You're way outta your league. I'll just clear this with
Buffy." Angel narrows his eyes and stares Andrew down, inwardly proud when
he drops his eyes first in silent submission.
"Where do you think my orders came from? News flash—nobody in our
camp trusts you anymore. Nobody. You work for Wolfram & Hart. Don't fool
yourself... we're not on the same side. Thank you for your help... but, uh...we
got it." Andrew gestures imperiously and the Slayers quickly and
efficiently remove Dana and the gurney as Angel gestures for the guards to hang
back as Andrew and the Slayers leave with their fractured prize.
Wesley looks at him incredulously. "So that's *it*? You're just
gonna let him take her?"
"She's one of theirs. They can handle it. Besides... you heard the
man. We got enough problems of our own to worry about." Angel says with
quiet fury. He motions for the guard captain to come forward and he quickly
obeys. "I want this scene cleaned, not a trace of Spike's blood is to be
left. Do you understand me?" He orders with quiet menace.
“We’ll take care of it Sir.” The man says smartly making several snappy
gestures that have the security men dispersing quickly and efficiently to carry
out their orders.
“I’ll stay and make sure that things are handled Angel.” Wesley offers,
knowing that it’s essential that the scene is thoroughly sterilized to remove
all traces of Spike’s blood. It’s always about the blood, Wesley knows. Few
things are as powerful… or as dangerous… in the mystic circles as blood is and
he personally intends to make sure that none of Spike’s falls into the wrong
hands.
“Thanks Wesley, I’d feel a lot better if someone I trusted was here to
oversee things.” Angel admits honestly.
“Fred was speaking for us all Angel when she said that Spike is ours
now. Buffy and the brainwashed children masquerading as Slayers have put him
aside but we’ll protect our own.” Wesley promises, placing his hand on Angel’s
shoulder comfortingly. “Buffy has no claim on him, he’s ours.”
“You have no idea just what they’ve done to him Wes.” Angel says
clenching his fists.
“I know it can’t be very good.” Wesley says honestly and Angel looks at
him in shock and silent query. “Ever since that Birthday party, Lorne growls if
anyone even mentions the words Buffy, Giles, or Slayer. I think he read Spike
when he sang and whatever it was that he saw, it didn’t endear Buffy or her
chums to him.”
“She knew what the amulet would do to the one that wore it Wesley.”
Angel says quietly and Wesley looks surprised and sickened by the revelation.
“She gave it to Spike and ensured he would wear it and never told him it would
cost him his life if he did. She killed my Childe Wesley and by doing it she
killed Dru as well. I’m finding it rather hard to avoid finding her and Giles
and thanking them… personally.” Angel admits with a rough growling timber to
his voice.
Wesley wonders if he knows that the Irish brogue rarely leaves his voice
these days and it comes and goes often from one sentence to the next. He has a
sneaking suspicion that Spike may have managed to do something that Buffy, and
over a century of internal strife, have failed to do. Their shared concern and
regard for the younger Vampire; and the last of their bloodline; has provided
the bridge that Angel and Angelus needed to become something much more than the
sum of their separate parts. He suspects that soon, they’re personalities will
merge completely to create a third more stable personality from their two
halves. He may have once feared that occurrence but now he can see that he
would have been wrong to. He’s come to accept that like a house, Angelus is as
much of the foundation that makes up his friend as Angel is; both are needed to
keep things strong and sturdy.
“I can see why Lorne was muttering about shotguns now.” Wesley says with
a quiet menace of his own. “We can’t let them get away with that Angel or what
they did tonight for that matter.” He says darkly. “I think we need to reassess
our corporate grants and allocation structures.” He says with a dark smile.
Angel chuckles as he realizes where Wesley is going with that train of
thought. “I’ll have Gunn get started on that tomorrow. Do you think they even
stopped to wonder where their single greatest source of subsidies was coming
from before they pulled this little stunt?”
“I doubt that they would have alienated you so easily if they had.”
Wesley says similarly amused.
“I guess they’d better start looking into job at the
“I’ll have Gunn get started on the foreclosure procedures on the loans.”
Wesley says with a cool smile that says he’s going to enjoy it. “Why don’t you
head back, I’m sure you want to be there when Spike’s out of surgery.” Wes says
quietly, feeling the tension in his friend’s muscles.
“I’ll do that.” Angel strides towards where he parked his car but stops
and turns on his heel and comes back and cups Wes’ shoulders. “Thank you
Wesley. I’ll call you when there’s news about Wil.”
“You’re welcome Angelus.” Wesley smiles at the look of respect on
Angel’s features, all the more precious since he knows it’s a gift from the
less than souled half. “I’d appreciate any updates and I’ll head back to the
office after we’re done here.” Wesley says with a definitive nod. Angelus
squeezes his shoulders and turns and strides for his car, wanting to get back
to his Childe.
Wesley watches him leave as he strides back towards the distillery to supervise
the clean up, digging his phone out along the way and hitting the speed dial.
“Hello Gunn…. I’ve got a little job for you….”
Chapter Seventeen
His arms bandaged but now reattached, Spike's sitting in a hospital bed,
wearing a white hospital gown and looking miserable. Angel walks up to the
doorway and pauses, looking at his Childe and silently rejoicing that the
operation was a success. It wouldn't have mattered if it hadn't have been, he
would have cheerfully cared for his Boy for whatever eternity was theirs to
claim. He knows it matters to Spike though and so he's glad for his sake and he
admits he would have missed Spike's gracefully strong hands too.
"Come to tap-dance on the patient, have we, doc? I'd give you the
finger, but apparently I won't have the motor skills till the drugs wear
off." Spike says sounding drained and a little distracted.
Angel walks in to stand beside his bed, not sure is he should try to
touch him for fear of causing him more pain. "Is there a lot of
pain?"
Spike looks up finally and falls into their old adversarial patterns.
You can never tell which walls may have eyes or ears. "More than I'd like.
But not as much as you would. Just what I deserve."
Angel sighs and opens the blood link between them, silently imparting
his assurance that they are alone and unobserved by any means known to man or
magic. "I didn't say that." He points out, knowing that there is part
of Spike that thinks he does deserve it though. He's intimately familiar with
that mindset.
"No. I did. The lass thought I killed her family. And I'm supposed
to what, complain 'cause hers wasn't one of the hundreds of families I did
kill? I'm not sayin' you're right... 'cause, uh... I'm physically incapable of
saying that. But, uh... for a Demon... I never did think that much about the
nature of evil. No. Just threw myself in. Thought it was a party. I liked the
rush. I liked the crunch. Never did look back at the victims." Spike says
slowly, a distant look in his eyes.
"I couldn't take my eyes off them. I was only in it for the evil.
It was everything to me. It was art. The destruction of a human being. I
would've considered Dana a masterpiece." Spike looks up surprised as he
realizes that Angelus, not Angel, contributed that insight. It holds a note of
quiet remorse that he'd never thought he would hear from his un-souled Sire.
"What happens to her now?" Spike asks genuinely concerned
despite the lingering aches and throbbing pains that accompany his time at her
mercy.
"I don't know. Um, Andrew and the slayers took her. Didn't trust us
to help her." He admits somewhat embarrassed to admit that Andrew got the
drop on them.
"*Andrew* double-crossed us? That's a good move." he can't
help the half respectful chuckle that escapes him. "Hope for the little
ponce yet. Though the tingling in my forearms tells me she's too far gone to
help. She's...one of us now. She's a monster." He glances down at his
bandaged arms.
"She's an innocent victim." Angel reminds him.
"So were we... once upon a time." Spike says quietly glancing
at him in silent camaraderie.
"Once upon a time." Angel says, just as quietly.
After a moment’s hesitation Angel carefully approaches the bed to stroke
Spike’s hair and leans down to gently wrap his arms around him. Spike sighs gratefully
and lets his head fall against his Sire’s chest and melts into his embrace.
After a few minutes even that closeness isn’t close enough and Angel pulls back
to slip off his coat. Spike watches him with his brow quirked up and a half
smile on his lips as his Sire unbuttons his shirt slowly and pulls it off. He
pulls off his undershirt and boots and socks as well before he slides out of
his tailored pants, leaving only his black silk boxers.
Spike struggles to scoot over in the graciously large hospital bed but
it is difficult without the use of his hands. He lets out a startled ‘oomph’ of
surprise as Angel strips back the covers carefully and gently lifts him out of
the bed and sets him in a nearby chair. Spike watches as Angel remakes the bed
neatly and then walks over silently falling to his knees in front of him, his
fingertips drifting up to trace his back and the ties holding the hospital gown
closed, however ineffectual though they may be.
Seeing the silent question burning in his Sire’s eyes Spike smiles and
nods slightly; in an equally silent response. Within moments the uncomfortable
hospital gown is a pool of discarded discomfort on the floor. Angel leans over
and picks up his shirt and shakes it out vigorously and holds it up in silent inquiry.
Spike’s nostrils flare as he catches the scent of his Sire clinging to the grey
silk and he nods. He breathes deeply drawing the essence of his Sire deep into
his lungs and he sighs as the different scents and sensations wash over him.
The scent is complex and layered, each scent fitting into the others
like a puzzle piece, revealing Angelus in his entirety. The top note and most
obvious scent is the subtly spicy scent of ginger mixed with the earthy
undertones of sandalwood and soap. These are the scents a human could detect
but the complexity of Angel’s scent is so much more than that. Below the
obvious scents, the deep tangy scent of salt air, woodsy moss and green,
growing things rip with life and the lingering scent of sweet heather. Angelus may
have been centuries parted from
He could live everyday seeing Angel but it’s only in these moments, with
his Sire’s inimitable scent swirling around him and sinking deep into his skin
that he *knows* he is home and
safe.
Angel carefully slips Spike’s arms through the sleeves and pulls the
shirt up over his back and shoulders and draws a silent breath at the sight of
his impressive chest peeking bare and attractive between the unbutton halves. He
can’t help but slide his palms beneath the silk and against the skin that lurks
beneath it and sighs as its perfection eclipses even that of its silken
covering. He slowly pulls his hands apart, drawing the silk open until his
Childe is bared to his gaze.
Topaz brown eyes stare up into crystalline blue perfection and matching
smiles curve their mouths, touched by the simple joy of this moment. Holding
his Childe’s gaze, Angel leans forward and slowly presses a soft kiss to the
skin over his stilled heart. He breathes deeply and absorbs the scent of his
Childe and he smiles pleased. The scents of fiery cinnamon, the sweetly spicy
scent of cloves, the earthy hint of leather and soap and the faint hint of some
flowery scent that he vaguely recognizes as being heather are the first to sink
into him. Below the obvious scents lie the scents of smoky, humanity filled streets,
roasting chestnuts, fine linen paper with the deep rich scent of India ink and
the faintest scent of sweet vanilla. At the core; underneath it all; lies the
scent of their shared Demon heritage. He remembers Darla telling him what his
own uniquely special scent consisted of and he is pleased that his Childe’s
scent has altered to now include part of his.
They find their arms slowly closing around one another to lock them
together and they sigh in unison as their scents mix together in a harmonious whole.
Only Sire and their Childer are known to have scents that mesh so well and
completely, it is the sign of a healthy bond and it comforts them both. Neither
wants to remember when their scents betrayed their estrangement and relish that
it is no longer so. Nor do they want to think about how neither of them meshed
well with the violet, frankincense, myrrh, candle wax, and sacramental wine
scent that was uniquely Drusilla’s own. Strangely Drusilla’s scent and Darla’s
were the ones to harmonize. Perhaps some greater sense of destiny had long ago
decided that they would be together and it just took them this long to figure
it out.
Angel leans back and stays kneeling at Spike’s feet, reaching up to cup
his cheek. Truly William, Spike, Wil… is his true Childe and heir to his; until
recently; lonely legacy of being a souled Demon.
“I know the truth of what happened to you in Sunnydale.” He tightens his
hand in silent command, stilling the words he sees forming on Spike’s lips.
“Don’t blame Angelus, he didn’t ‘tell’ me, I spied… on myself.” They stare at
each other for a moment before they have to chuckle at how absurd that actually
sounds.
After the chuckles have died down, Angel smoothes his features into
seriousness once more. “I know the truth Childe that you tried so hard to
protect me from. I make my pledge to you William, Aurelius Master, my Childe
and my favoured. Your enemies shall be my enemies as your friends shall be my
friends. What is done unto you is done unto me and all of Aurelius. As the Sire
of your Sire, now as I am your Sire in truth and Elder of all the Order, I
decree this to be so.” Angel says formally, his eyes deepening to golden topaz
as Angelus repeats the vow. “As we have decreed so will it be, now and forever.
You are William, Favoured Childe of Angel *and* Angelus both.” With that phrase
the rite of bonding is complete and Spike feels a tear slip its way from the
corner of his eye as his Demon revels in the acceptance so longed for and so
long denied.
Spike lifts his hands to cup his Sire’s face. “I would not have asked
this of you, you know this?” Angel nods, smiling and nuzzling into his hands.
“I am William, Childe….” Angel narrows his eyes warningly. “…Favoured Childe,”
Spike quickly corrects and Angel smiles, pleased. “…Of Angel *and* Angelus,
Elders of my Bloodline, Masters of Aurelius. I give of my lifeblood as I give
of my strength and all that I am I give unto my Sires as I have so named. I am
Aurelius, I am yours to command even unto death or life itself.” Spike says formally,
accepting the claim of Favoured Childe that Angel and Angelus have gifted upon
him.
“I can’t let what happened in Sunnydale pass without redress William.
You are a Childe of Aurelius, *my*
Favoured Childe and you were misused. They misused us both, My Lad.” Angel
lifts his free hand to stroke a fingertip lightly over his bandages. “They used
us to fix their little crazy Slayer problem and double-crossed us and hurt you
*again* in the process. You could have died, any of us could have and it is only
because you are the most stubborn and strongest Sonofabitch I know that you
aren’t. They must be made to pay for what they have done and I have chosen the
means.” Angel says quietly, lifting his fingertips to silence the question
forming on Spike’s lips.
He leans forward and moving his hand kisses him gently before replacing
the lightly touching fingertips. “We will not harm them overtly nor
permanently, Childe so let your mind rest easily.” He feels Spike sigh and his
muscles relax. “When the Council was destroyed we used our new resources here
to make certain… allowances and opportunities accessible to them that made it
possible for them to rebuild. I have since decided to rescind them all. Wesley
and Gunn have their orders and all that we have given or that our generosity
has fostered for them, will be reclaimed to the last cent and staple. They will
need to earn their own future and work to rebuild on their own. We will not
help them.”
Spike looks stricken. “How can you do that Angel, you love Buffy and
she’ll suffer for this.” He says sadly. “I know that what she did was wrong but
is what we’re going to do to them any better?”
“We are the enemy to them now, my William. Andrew betrayed us on Buffy’s
orders. What we are taking back is only money, resources, the things that have
made their lives trouble-free and easy. They name us evil and call us enemies
and they no longer trust us and I will no longer abide their betrayals and
slights in the name of a relationship that ended long, long ago.” Angel’s eyes
flash dangerously. “They took you from me, they’re actions have stolen our mad
Drusilla, and if I cannot have their blood than I will have the easy lives I
have given to them. If they want to rebuild, let it be on them as to how.”
“I just don’t want you to look back on this later and blame me for it.”
Spike says sadly. “Can two wrongs make a right? What about Dawn and Andrew? I’m
sure that whatever they have done, it was because they were told to, not by
choice. I don’t want the fact that some of them hurt me to affect how I feel
about them all.” Spike drops his eyes. “I haven’t known much kindness from
Humans, until I came here and all of you took me in… I didn’t know there *were*
Humans that would ever see me as anything more than a Demon.” He looks up at
his Sire. “Fred never left me, not once. I heard her voice talking to me the
whole time, telling me how important I was and that I had to keep fighting for
you and them because I was their friend. I heard Gunn, Lorne, and Harmony too,
though I was too weak to do much by then other than listen. I know you were
there and I heard you talking to Wesley about how I was doing.”
“You are ours now Spike, didn’t you know that?” Angel asks quietly.
“It was enough that I was yours.” Spike says simply, smiling shyly as
Angel grins widely.
“You are ours now, one of us, and we take care of our own. We are not
going to harm them Childe, though it is within my rights as your Sire and the
Elder of our Order. They’ll live, I *want* them to live so that they can live each
day with the cost of their betrayal lying heavily on them.” Angel says coolly
and Spike is surprised because he can tell that it’s Angel and not Angelus
speaking for them both. “I’ll have Gunn set up trust funds for Dawn and Andrew;
but with provisions so that Buffy and Giles can’t find a way to use it for
their own means. If you like we can set up some sort of foundation or fund with
the resources and money we’re reclaiming.” Angel offers.
“I think that would be nice.” Spike admits. “They can’t have found *all*
the potentials they’ve unleashed or there may be some like Dana that are
damaged or need more help than being locked away in a rubber walled loony bin.
At least then the money will be used for what you intended it for.” Spike
smiles as Angel smiles and nods.
“I’ll leave that to Wesley’s capable hands. I imagine he knows better
than just about anyone what is really needed.” Angel says quietly. “Perhaps
we’ll start our own Council.” He says with a chuckle rising from his crouch.
“This isn’t about Buffy, William; it’s about what she did and is continuing to
do. I won’t stand by and be used or wait for them to take advantage of us
again. They could have gotten one of us killed.” He presses a tender kiss to
the back of his bandaged hand. “They almost took you away from me again. Who’s
to say that the next time it won’t be Fred or Gunn?” He smiles pleased as Spike
nods his agreement with the plans he’s set in motion.
Angel tenderly pulls the shirt back into place and buttons it part way
up Spike’s chest. Given the differences in their builds the large shirt swims
on the trim form wearing it but it is much more comfortable than that
uncomfortable gown-like bit of torture they’d put on him. Angel stands and
neatly turns down the covers and returns to tenderly pick up his Childe,
carrying him and settling him onto the bed and helping him to roll onto his
side. He walks to the door and turns the deadbolt that he insisted be placed on
the inside of Spike’s hospital room
door. He turns off the large overhead lights, leaving the room lit only by the
glow of a small electronic monitor that is glowing faintly.
Angel opens the door to the small closet that graces the room and sighs
happily as he spots two extra pillows stacked neatly on the top shelf. He grabs
both and returns to the bed setting on pillow down he carefully lifts William’s
abused arms and lays them tenderly atop the cushioning of the pillow. He
strokes his hair briefly and murmurs gently as his Boy’s eyes slip closed
tiredly. He crosses around the bed and sets the other pillow down beside
Spike’s as he carefully climbs into the bed. He adjusts his body until it’s
spooned tightly behind his Childe, following his contours and supporting him
tenderly. He flips and covers up and smoothes it over them. He feels rather
than hears the shallow but rhythmic breaths that move Spike’s chest and smiles
in the dim darkness as he is comforted to know that he still breathes as
quietly as a human child in his sleep. Of all his bloodline, how strange it
should be that the strongest of his Childer should be the most human of them
all.
Angel nuzzles his face into
Spike’s hair and sighs as the spicy cinnamon-laced vanilla scent of his Boy
surrounds him. He relaxes and abandons himself to sleep’s hold, knowing that
his Childe is safe and sleeping soundly in his embrace. There will be no
nightmares tonight; for either of them.
Chapter Nineteen
Angel moans quietly as Spike’s tongue sweeps over the nipple he’s
nursing at and strokes the gently waving hair under his hand. He can feel the
barest brush of fluttering fingertips against his side and he sighs. His blood
is nurturing his Childe and his regenerative abilities are being kicked into
high gear by the richness of his Sire’s blood. He suspects Spike will be fully
healed within the week rather than the month the doctors have foreseen.
A gentle tapping on the door becomes an insistent knocking and Spike
reluctantly licks the wound he’s nursing at closed as they share a silent groan
at being disturbed during their private quiet time.
“Angel, Spike? I’m sorry to bother you; I know it was a long couple of
nights for us all but we’ve got a situation that I think we’re going to need to
deal with right away. I wouldn’t disturb you unless it was very important and I
think that this qualifies.” They hear Wesley’s voice as easily as through the
wooden barrier were not there at all. They share a sigh and Spike gingerly
slips off of Angel to lie on the bed, allowing his Sire to rise. He smiles as
Angel lifts him up and sets him on his feet, holding him around the waist until
he’s sure he’s steady before gathering his clothes and helping him to dress.
“Give us about five minutes, Wes.” Angel calls out as he walks to the
closet and pulls out some clothing and helps Spike dress. He holds up a pair of
black silk pyjama bottoms and Spike steps into them letting Angel pull them up
into place. He holds up a simple sleeveless top in a vibrantly dark shade of
blue. Spike manages it to tuck it in and blouses it loosely, his motions a little
stiff and slow, his hands still recovering from the operation to reattach them.
Angel holds up a simple matching black silk, kimono style shirt robe and Spike
slips his arms through the sleeves with a thankful smile. The clothing is
comfortable and easier for him to manage with his reduced manual dexterity and
certainly more comfortable than those embarrassing hospital gowns. While Spike
is tentatively brushing his sleep tousled hair, Angel straightens the bed
clothes and fluffs Spike’s pillow before grabbing his own clothes from the
closet and hurriedly dressing.
“Remind me to give Harmony a raise.” He says breathlessly and he
smoothes his suit jacket into place neatly as he slides into his loafer-style
shoes. Spike smiles and nods as he retrieves his own soft soled slippers and
slips his feet into them. Harmony’s done an excellent job of making sure that
the closet is stocked with everything they’d need for a day’s clothing and
makes sure they have everything else they need, including the light hold hair
gel Angel is running through his hair lightly.
Spike smiles and walks to the door, carefully using both hands to turn
the heavy gauge deadbolt to the open position. By the time he’s done that Angel
is at his back pulling the door open to reveal a sea of worried and concerned
faces. Angel sweeps Spike off his feet and easily carries him back to his bed
and gets him settled as their friends pour through the door like water over a
waterfall. He tucks the cashmere blanket and silk sheets around his Childe
before pulling up the dark blue black silk comforter that he brought especially
for him. He knows that Spike often finds the temperature in the building
slightly too low for his comfort and he prefers a little extra warmth.
Harmony and Lorne smile as they set down heavily laden trays brimming
with mugs, thermal carafes, and an assortment of breakfast foods from the
executive dining room.
“How are you feeling today my little blond cupcake?” Lorne asks with a
big smile as he turns around from setting the tray down.
“You look terrific.” Harmony says sincerely pouring a thick steaming
liquid into three of the mugs and handing one to Angel as Lorne helpfully pulls
over the bedside tray stand so that she can set Spike’s mug down on it.
Spike smiles as the scent of Harmony’s special Vampire-style cocoa
tickles his nose and he carefully picks up the specially contoured mug that
Gunn bought for him. It’s much easier to handle than a usual coffee-style mug,
with his hands and arms still bandaged as they are. It was a very thoughtful
gift and a much appreciated one and he smiles happily at Gunn, toasting him
with his mug. Turning to smile at his Sire he scoots over and pats the bed
beside him, flushing faintly as Angel makes himself
comfortable on the bed beside him.
Gunn smiles and lifts the mug of coffee Fred just handed him in a return
salute, turning and taking a plate of eggs, hash browns and sausage from
Harmony with a thank you smile.
“We got you something special Spike.” Fred says happily, motioning to
Wes who whips the high-domed linen napkin off the platter shaped plate he’s
carrying.
“Vanilla and pecan scones with clotted cream and elderberry preserves,
your Mum’s recipe.” Wes says with a grin as he sets the platter down on the
tray stand.
Spike holds up a scone and motions towards the foot of the bed and waves
the still warm, flaky treat at Wes who gladly makes himself comfortable at the
foot of the bed and availing himself of the delicious English breakfast treat.
Angel prepares a scone as he watches the others get situated around the
room and settled in with their various breakfast options. He feeds Spike and
himself as he smiles at his friends, noticing that they’ve all pulled their
chairs close to the bed with Wes and Harmony sharing the opposite ends of the
bed.
“What’s the emergency?” He asks once they’re all settled and eating
happily.
“Whatever has things going crazy around here is getting worse, Boss-man.”
Gunn says worriedly.
“One minute we’re talking Valentines and enough flowers to make a
Mortician’s convention feel inadequate….” Lorne says, shaking his head in
confusion.
“And the next minute we’re talking bodily injury and people saying ‘I
love you’ with a fireman’s axe.” Wesley says concerned. “Whatever is going on,
it’s getting worse. First everyone is acting like it is mating season and every
day is Valentine’s Day and now they’re fighting, sometimes violently enough to
cause injury. We’ve had a three hundred percent rise in violent attacks over
the last thirty-six hours.”
“The medical department is being overrun with minor injuries and the
trend seems to be escalating with more severe injuries being reported along an
unpredictable pattern. If we can’t find out what’s causing this and a way to
stop it, the attacks will continue to escalate and we’re eventually going to
have fatalities.” Fred reports with a worried expression.
“Security is being overrun handling the requests for assistance and
we’ve called in every available guard we’ve got and we’re not meeting the
demands. We can’t keep working them in double shifts; some of them are going to
drop from exhaustion soon.” Gunn states, sipping his coffee.
“Could this be some weird plan of Eve and this ‘Doyle’ character? Maybe a diversion or something to keep us off
balance so we won’t have time to look into what they’re up to?” Angel asks.
“At this point we can’t rule out anything. The mystics still haven’t
found a way to crack through whatever magical protection Eve’s little friend is
using to remain hidden from us. Who knows what other magic he may have set in
motion as well?” Wesley says with a frustrated shrug.
“Is there any Demon that could produce effects like we’ve been
witnessing?” Fred asks, glancing at Wesley, her eyes widening fractionally. The
expression on his face as he watches Angel and Spike curled up together
tenderly sharing their breakfast is a yearning one.
Letting his eyes fall away from the happy pair he’s grateful for the
distraction. He’s never noticed how well suited Angel and Spike are, physically
speaking. Where Angel is power and solidity, Spike is lithe grace and his
smaller form complements that of his powerfully built sire, like puzzle pieces
that interlock perfectly. “It’s possible Fred. Several Demon species can
produce dementia through various means but I’m not sure that’s what is going on
here. This all seemed to start innocently enough, like some sort of love spell
gone awry. I can’t think of any Demon that could affect so many people
simultaneously though. They would have to be immensely powerful; ergo it would
be harder for them to hide from us. That much power is like a light in a dark
room, it would get our attention.”
Lorne looks over Gunn’s shoulder and reads the report he’s balancing on
his lap and he notices something. “Did anyone else happen to notice that these
disturbance reports all seem to involve quarrels between either two or three
people? Well okay four in this one case here… but I know them, they work in my
division. A couple broke up and started seeing other people but caught their
new honeybunnies in one of the storage closets. It was a big mess I was forced
to send two of them home. I thought they were going to kill each other. It was
all really strange since the two women were found together and to my knowledge
both are straight so it was a bit of a surprise for all involved.” Lorne says
with a shrug.
“Perhaps we haven’t been looking at this from the correct angle.” Wes
says thoughtfully and everyone looks at him expectantly. “We’ve been thinking
that the weird love vibe that was going around was some sort of an initial
effect by whatever is affecting us and it’s slowly intensifying into violence.
What if we’ve got it backwards?” Wesley muses, almost chuckling at the sea of
blank looks he’s getting.
“You mean what’s happening isn’t supposed to be necessarily violent?”
Fred says with a confused look. “I have to tell ya Wes, a report of a man
threatening to put a woman through a paper shredder if she won’t stop calling
him, seems pretty violent ta me.”
“What I mean Fred is what if it was the initial effect that was and *is*
the cause of everything?” Wesley says with a grin. “Take Lorne’s example; two
women by all reports interested in the opposite sex exclusively suddenly become
involved and spark off a conflict between their male suitors? That’s a pretty
big coincidence under the circumstances.” Wesley points out. “I think what
we’re looking at is some sort of a love spell gone wrong. What were harmless
crushes are becoming unhealthy obsessions.”
“So you’re saying what, Wes? We’ve all got spring fever and we’re lookin
to get the hook up and it’s making us all do the wacky?” Gunn says confused.
“Whoa shades of ‘Fatal Attraction’ déjà vu here Pumpkins.” Lorne says
throwing his hands up.
Angel looks down at Spike as he lies cuddling against his chest and he
raises his hand to stroke through his hair. “Remember when Xander botched that
love spell? He had every woman in Sunnydale looking to have him or kill him so
no one else could by the end of it.”
Spike nods and chuckles. “I think Dru scared about ten years off the
Whelp when she fawned over him like she did.” The pair snickers over the memory
of the panicked look on Xander’s face when Dru wanted to make him her ‘kitten’.
“It had the whole town falling to pieces.”
“You may be right Angel. This may be some bizarre plan to keep us
occupied and distracted from more important things, namely what Eve and the
enigmatic Mr. Doyle are up to.” Wesley states.
Everyone looks at Spike, who is dozing lightly against Angel’s shoulder;
the pain medication tends to make him very sleepy and docile and it makes him
very vulnerable right now. Whatever Eve and her accomplice have planned it
seems Spike is a key to its success.
“Fred, do you feel comfortable taking over Spike’s medical care?” Angel
asks, knowing that he can trust his Childe to Fred’s capable care and devotion.
“I’d love to Angel! The doctors said he’s over the worst, just some time
and regular feedings from you and he should recover with no adverse side
effects. I can easily take over his care at this point.”
“Gunn, call security and have two guards posted on Spike’s door at all
times. Until further notice *no one*
comes in here without being accompanied by one of us, no exceptions.” Angel
orders and Gunn nods fishing his cell phone out of his pocket to make the call.
Wesley and Fred share an uneasy glance and she motions towards Angel
with a nod of her head, doing it more vehemently as Wesley shakes his head,
looking nervous.
“There’s something else Angel.” Wesley says finally, anxiously threading
his fingers together. “We had a bit of a surprise this morning. One of the
guards brought in some trespassers who were asking to speak to Spike. Given who
they were… they were stopped and detained and they called me.”
“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like what you’re about
to tell me?” Angel says suspiciously.
Wesley looks like a hound being hunted and he slips off the bed and
walks towards the door and opens it. Gunn and Lorne quickly file out and Fred
scampers out as well. “Andrew and Dana came back looking like they’ve been in a
war zone. They asked me for sanctuary and I let them stay; they’re in the
opposite ward under heavy guard and Dana is sedated.” Like any wise man Wesley
darts through the door and slams it closed and grabs hold of the knob as the
door begins to rattle furiously.
Lorne and Gunn cry out and leap forward grabbing on to Wesley and
lending their efforts to hold the door closed as it rattles furiously amidst
furious roars and cursing from inside.
“Well he took that better than I thought he would.” Fred says with a
sunny smile and the three men turn their heads to stare at her with their
mouths open in shock.
“Girl, he’s going to break the door down and kill Wes and you think he’s
handling it well?” Gunn says amazed pulling on Wes’ waist harder as the door
rattles dangerously.
“Oh he’s not going to kill him; he just may hurt him a little but death
no way.” Fred denies with a grin.
“I’d rather avoid death or dismemberment until he calms down if it’s all
the same to you Winifred.” Wesley says drolly, pulling back harder on the door.
Suddenly the bellowing roars and rattling cut off abruptly and they all
stare at the door suspiciously, no one willing to let up in case Angel’s trying
to fake them out. Fred inches towards the door slowly and starts to press her
ear against the wood when a heavy thump suddenly rattles the door again,
startling her backwards and into the boys sending them all down in a pile of
bodies falling like dominoes. They scramble up and back away from the door
expecting it to fly open at any moment but it remains solidly closed. After a
few seconds the sounds start up again but of a very different sort.
“Yes well I think Spike can handle things here, I’ll just go back to my
office.” Wesley says clearing his throat coolly before all but running down the
corridor followed by a rapidly retreating Gunn.
Lorne only sighs longingly at the closed door and grabbing a madly
giggling Fred by the shoulders he guides her down the hallway. “I wonder if
they remember that Harmony is still in there.” Lorne muses.
Chapter Twenty
He steps from the stairwell silently; no whispered fall of a cat’s paw
could be any quieter; and looks into his Sire’s darkened office. He turns away
from the scene as Cordelia kisses his Sire and his eyes widen to see that
Wesley has silently returned and is standing a few feet behind him, leaning
against the stairwell doorway observing.
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to hurt you, Spike. She was… is important to
him.” Wesley says quietly.
Spike turns his back on the scene and steps resolutely towards Wes and
away from the office… and his Sire. He flexes his hands slowly opening and
closing them and wiggling his fingers and finally folds his hands up so tightly
that the knuckles crack faintly.
Wes holds his ground as Spike approaches, inhaling and holding it as Spike
deliberately turns his body and drags it slowly across his as he squeezes past
him and into the stairwell. He pauses at the top of the landing and looks back
over his shoulder. “Do you believe in omens Wesley?” He asks quietly.
“Well I have read about empirical evidence that would conclude that the
phenomenon is genuine.” Wesley says confused and grows only more so as Spike
slowly walks down the stairs chuckling quietly. He hurries to follow him, drawn
somehow by the sad and resigned quality of that not altogether amused laugh.
“So that is what the books say about omens. What does Wesley
Wyndom-Price have to say?” Spike asks in a low tone that sounds strangely
intimate in the enclosed stairwell.
“Well I’ve seen enough to believe that omens are a truth at least in
regards to prophecies and such. I’ve never experienced a personal ‘omen’ so I’m
not sure I can offer an opinion on that. I do know however that the trick to
omens isn’t the fact of whether or not they exist but in how you interpret it.”
Wesley offers. “If you showed the same event to a dozen people I doubt you’d
get even two that would see it the exact same way. It’d be more likely that you
would get twelve different stories.”
“That’s very literate and thought out Wes. I think it is much simpler
than that when you get right down to it. An omen is just a message and it’s up
to us whether we choose to read it or not. I’ve always enjoyed reading.” Spike
says quietly.
Wes gets a sneaking suspicion that Spike is going to do something rash.
He’s startled as Spike’s voice sounds out in a husky whisper right near his
ear. He blushes as he realized he spoke what he was thinking out loud.
“You’re right Wes, I am going to do something that you might consider
‘rash’.” Spike confirms. “I’m going to do what I set out to do before all this
craziness happened. I’m going to go find out who I am. Doyle… Lindsey… whatever
his name is may have been using me but he did do one thing for me, he gave me a
place to live. I think I’m going to make use of it for a while.”
“Are you sure that’s wise Spike? We can’t prove that Eve had anything to
do with Lindsey despite our suspicions, which Gunn says isn’t enough to
approach the Senior Partners with so she remains a threat. I don’t for a minute
believe that little light show that Angel and Cordelia described miraculously
sweeping Lindsey off to face the Senior Partners. We have no way of knowing if
he’s really gone. The magic he used, first to bring you back from the amulet’s
dimension, then to make you corporeal, and not to mention hide from all our
Mystics *and* the Senior Partners. We still don’t know what his plans for you
were; he’s a very dangerous man Spike. I’m not sure it’s safe to leave here
yet.” Wes says worried.
“I’m not so sure it’s safe to stay.” Spike says quietly, putting a hand
on Wesley’s shoulder and patting it comfortingly as he looks at him shocked and
dismayed as they climb down the stairs.
“Is this about Cordelia?” Wesley asks quietly. “I’m positive that Angel
isn’t planning on resuming their relationship Spike; not when he has you back
at last. Even if he were so inclined I doubt that Angelus would see much appeal
in a relationship with a human. I have to admit though you’re handling what we
saw well. I think I would have been in a rage, so you’re a better man than I
am.”
“Perhaps it is something to do with the fact that I am not a man.” Spike
says flatly, his voice cool and unemotional. “He owes me no allegiance Wes.
What I am to him I will be for eternity, unchanging and forever frozen. Buffy;
at least I could have consoled myself with the knowledge that the span of her
life would be a blink in time compared to eternity. Cordelia is at least partly
a Demon, her life could extend into centuries, perhaps even as ageless as we.
What then is there left for me? I spent over a century waiting and hoping that
Drusilla would love me, choose to be with me, with no reservations and nothing
held back. I waited and I hoped Buffy would love me and choose to be with me
despite the odds. Am I to wait now, when I don’t know how long I’ll be bloody
waiting? I can’t leave him, my heart understands that forever is more than just
a word but I don’t have to stay here and watch.” Spike says haggardly, his
voice rough with emotion.
Wesley shoves his hands in his pants pockets and clenches them tightly
into fists before he can give into temptation and reach out and offer Spike the
comfort he longs to give. “I’m sure that Angelus will not let you go Spike;
he’s only just got you back.”
“You know that he’s barely noticed that I’m around since Cordelia woke
up Watcher. He hasn’t fed me in days, not that he needs to now. I am as strong
as I have ever been, perhaps even stronger.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate Spike. He’s just caught up in having her
back.” Wesley argues.
“I have never been his first choice, if this has shown me anything than
it has shown me that.”
“That’s not true, he chose you over Buffy and helping the Council. In
fact recalling our aid has hurt them and it will take years to regain the
ground that their actions have cost them.”
“He did what he did to keep the peace with Angelus, who called for the
Blood Rites for what they did to me. Angel found a bloodless solution and that
it will linger much longer than a quick death Angelus was pleased. I don’t for
a moment believe that Angel would choose me over another.” Spike states flatly.
“How can you believe that after all of this?” Wesley asks amazed.
Spike stops in mid-step and turns to look at Wes. “Where is he right
now?” Wesley starts to answer but lets his mouth close with the reply unspoken.
“The first time he is given a choice and I am ignored and set aside without
concern. Do you know that he never even asked me if I was hurt after I stayed
behind to fight the zombies so that they could get passed to stop Lindsey?”
“You said that you weren’t!” Wesley exclaims, grabbing Spike’s arm and
turning him to face him and running a critical eye over his lithe form. For the
first time he notices that Spike is dressed in his old attire of black jeans
and t-shirt and his eyes narrow accusingly as he smoothes his hand over his
chest. His fingertips find the edge of the bandage wrapped tightly around his
chest and trace it around to his back, flattening his hand and bracing it
lightly. “How bad is it?”
“It’s not very serious. Harmony did an okay job on taping them up and
they’ll heal by tomorrow night. There were a lot of zombies.” Spike says wryly
but his smile is confidently pleased as he *did* manage to beat them all.
Wesley uses the hand on his back to steer him back around and gently
prods him to move back up the way they came. “Let’s go.” Wesley says
forcefully. “We’re going up to the roof and you’re going to soak in the spa for
a while then I’m going to have a look at those ribs and make sure they’re taped
up correctly. Then you’re going to feed and go to bed early.”
Spike almost chuckles at the thread of command in Wesley’s voice but he
doesn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings and it’s nice to know that he cares.
“Fine but on two conditions; one that you tell me why Andrew and that Slayer
came back, Angelus won’t let me go near them and he changes the subject when I
ask about them. Second, I want you to drop me off at my place, I don’t think
that I want to stay here tonight and won’t get much rest if I have to.”
Wesley sighs. “Fine, it’s worth it if you’ll let me take care of you and
make *sure* that you’re alright but why don’t you stay with me instead?” He offers.
“I don’t need to just be away from here Wes; I think that I need to be
alone for a while.”
“Alright but I’m sending a security detail with one of the mystics over
there to check things out before you can stay there. *IF* it’s safe than I’ll
drop you off.” Wesley agrees reluctantly.
Spike smiles with genuine affection. “Thanks Wes, you’re a good friend.”
Wes smiles back and guides him back up the stairs. “You know why are we
taking the stairs when we have perfectly good elevators all over the building?”
He laughs and stops at the nearest landing and opens the access door and pulls
a laughing Spike through it. Life is hard enough without taking the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-One
Spike climbs out of the spa with a happy sigh and walks into the towel
that Wes is holding up and let’s himself be guided towards one of the thickly
cushioned roman benches nearby. He doesn’t protest as Wes tugs the towel off
his hips to gently sweep it over his body and remove the excess water and
running gentle hands over the injuries dotting his otherwise perfect form.
Wes has to force his hands not to linger on the suede perfection of
Spike’s skin; not even the imperfections caused by the injuries can make him
any less beautiful. If Angel does let his old feelings for Cordelia sway him
from this perfection he’d be a million times a fool. Cordelia may be a
beautiful woman but Spike is perfection itself given physical form, the tiny
imperfections of a scar here or there only reinforces how beautiful he is. “Why
don’t you go shower and I’ll get the things I need to treat your injuries and
pick you up something to wear?” He suggests.
“Alright, Pet. Harmony keeps a change of clothes for me in her locker.
The combination is 666473. She won’t mind if you fetch them for me I’m sure.”
Spike says, stretching his arms over his head and
arching his back in a bow like a cat, sucking in a deep breath and hisses as
his ribs shift.
Wes instinctively brings his hands down to cup his ribcage and presses
just enough to brace it and shivers as Spike makes a quiet sound that is
trapped halfway between a purr and a moan. He’s about to remove his hands when
he feels Spike’s hands settling over his and pressing them tighter against his
chest. It’s a stolen moment in time and everything grinds to a halt in his
world as he stands there leaning over Spike as he arches into his touch in
yearning surrender. As Spike relaxes his back and sinks boneless to rest on the
cushions, his hold pulls him closer until their lips are almost touching.
“Fred is in love with you.”
Spike’s voice is quiet and sincere but of all the things Wesley expected
to hear at a moment like this, that wasn’t one of them.
“She doesn’t think that anyone can see it but I do. I see a lot of
things.” He says quietly. “I love you too Wesley but I’m not in love with you
and I know that you care about me, I can feel that. I belong to Angelus and
even to Angel, when his head isn’t being turned by old affections. You don’t
want to live with the waiting Wesley, you don’t have forever.” Spike lifts his
hand and cups Wesley’s cheek and strokes it lightly with his thumb. “Tomorrows
come too soon and before you know it, its yesterday and you’ve been left
behind. Live for today Wesley Wyndam-Price. Ask Fred out today before tomorrow
becomes yesterday and you’re alone.”
Wesley drops his eyes, unable to speak as his emotions too deeply for
words to reach. A gentle hand curls under his chin and lifts his face to meet
the darkly vibrant blue eyes sparkling with an eldritch glow beneath him. He
seems to sink into the fathomless blue as lips softer than a flower petal
whisper a caress over his mouth as light as butterfly wings. He feels silken
arms wrapping around him and his world spins as he is guided down onto a body
carved of living marble but softer than a pillow.
Spike curls his arms around Wesley, winding his body around him in a
boneless embrace that is as ardent as it is protective. He writhes under the
pleasant warmth and weight, his strength carrying Wesley with him in a silken
glide of rough clothing against satin flesh. Tomorrow he’ll be Fred’s but
tonight for these few stolen moments he will be his. Spike turns his head and
presses his mouth to Wesley’s in gentle hunger. The kiss is a sweet and
melancholy madness that is as necessary to him as breathing, as they melt
together too await the not so distant dawn. It is a joining and a promise that
will never be fulfilled; and a connection that will never be broken. A sweet
memory out of time and one that he knows will replay in his dreams throughout
eternity.
Today will come but tonight is for the dreaming.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Spike slides off the motorcycle with easy grace, taking off the helmet
Wes insisted that he wear and shakes out his hair, ruffling it with his
fingers. “Thanks for the ride Wes.” He says huskily, strapping the helmet down
to the spare seat. He takes a few steps back and leans against a lamp post
unbuckling his jacket and letting it fall open as he lounges against the
unyielding metal.
Wes licks his lips at the sight of a wild haired black leather clad
Spike. His boots are crossed at the ankle one tapping out a rhythm to the beat
of the song playing on his radio. His leaning stance has his hip hugging black
leather pants slipping down another provocative inch and he’s not sure what
he’s rooting for more, that they’ll fall down or that they’ll stay up and he
won’t have to ride home with a fire hose ready to blow in his pants. In
deference to the bandages encircling his ribs he’s wearing a simple
loose-fitting dark red tank top. It is cropped to just reach his belt, so it’s
showing a tantalizing strip of bare skin now and the bottom edge of the bandage
he’s ribs are sheathed in. The sparkling gold wink of the simple hoop piercing
through his belly button plays peek-a-boo as it is revealed only to be
concealed as Spike’s impressive musculature shifts. The black leather of his
jacket and the contrasting white of the bandages and the vibrant red of his
tank top cause his moonlight pale skin to almost glow under the street light’s
golden glow.
“It was my pleasure.” Wesley says huskily, dismounting and locking the
bike’s anti-theft device into place. He straps his helmet down and spins the
small bicycle’ style cable lock to keep it secure. The first thing he learned
when he moved to LA was to lock *everything*.
“The security team said everything was secure and the mystic couldn’t
detect any spell-casting but I’m still not sure this is a wise move Spike. We
have no way of knowing if Lindsey is really gone or what their ultimate plan
was but it was obvious that he went to a lot of trouble to free you and
engineered ways to keep you here.” Wes says worriedly. “If you don’t want to
stay with me, we can get you a room at a Hotel. I just don’t feel right about
leaving you here under these circumstances.”
Spike stands with a graceful shimmy and casually wraps his hand around
the light post and gently squeezes. It slowly begins to crumple under his hand
until it deforms and his scarred brow quirks up.
“Ok I get the point.” Wes says with a wry grin, shaking his head at
Spike’s antics. If he had any questions about how well he’s healed from his
ordeal than he’s just answered them. He turns his wrist and looks down at his
watch. “We’ve got four hours til dawn, why don’t we find a place to have a
drink and I can tell you what you wanted to know about Andrew.” Wesley
suggests.
“That sounds like a cracker idea Pet. There’s a nice little lounge
around the corner, why don’t we try there?” Spike agrees with a smile, stepping
forward and wrapping an arm around Wesley’s waist. He turns Wes in the
direction of the bar and starts stalking down the street one hip at a time,
pulling a chuckling Wesley along with him.
The pair turns the corner, talking companionably in low tones
interspersed with laughter now and then, oblivious to the picture of close
camaraderie they’re presenting. They don’t pay much attention to the darkly
sleek car nestled in the shadows between the buildings or the dark fixed stare
of its occupant and the whisper quiet glide of a well-oiled door.
Talking animatedly the pair walk to the club nearby, the late hour
seeing them quietly slipping inside through the waning crowd and easily finding
a table. They don’t pay any attention to the eyes that follow their progress.
They chuckle as the waitress practically tosses a drink down on a nearby table
in her headlong rush to greet them at their table and take their order.
“A Bottle of JD, sweetheart, and two glasses.” Spike orders catching a
chair and flipping it around and straddling it backwards with a roll of his
hips that has the waitress licking her lips. He leans forward and lightly
crosses his arms on the backrest of the chair, leaning slightly forward and
bracing his pectorals against his forearms, keeping his back straight. The pose
is both innocently playful and wickedly seductive at the same time as Spike’s
foot taps to the music playing and he sways lightly to the beat. He pulls a
wallet from the inside pocket of his coat and lays down a twenty and a ten
dollar bill, fanning them out beneath his spread fingers. “Keep any change for
yourself Pet.” The waitress smiles and leans *over* Spike’s back, sliding the
money out from under his hand; making sure that her impressively excessive
cleavage presses against his back. Spike just chuckles and ignores the
overture.
Wesley pulls out his chair and sits down and shakes his head, watching
the waitress sashay off with an exaggerated sway of her hips that he can only
assume is meant to be enticing. “Does that kind of thing happen to you a lot?”
Wesley asks with a curious look. Spike only quirks his brow at him and shifts
in his chair, sending his duster fluttering around him and falling away from
his impressive physique. Wesley chuckles and shakes his head at his stupid
question. “Of course it does so nevermind.”
“Tell me what’s up with Andrew and… what was it Lorne called her, Little
Miss Whack-Your-Head- Off,” Wesley rolls his eyes and nods. “Playing at?” Spike
asks, genuinely curious. He’s tried to talk to them but Angelus has declared
them off limits to him and the guards refused to let him see Andrew to find out
what was going on. Despite being forgotten in the wake of Cordelia’s return,
Angelus’ orders were still as effective nonetheless.
Wesley waits for the waitress to set down their order, flouncing off as
her attempts to get their attention is futile. “It seems Andrew’s little
double-cross was rewarded *with* a triple-cross. He said they were a few miles
out of town when the van they were in pulled over and the Slayers that helped
him to ‘convince’ Angel to let them take Dana, her name is Dana by the way,
turned on her. Andrew tried to help her and they turned on him too. He managed
to get Dana out of the Van and lock them in long enough to get away but they
were both seriously injured in doing it.” Wesley reveals grimly, accepting the
glass of whiskey Spike’s poured for him.
“What the hell are Giles and Buffy doing?!” Spike growls. “We would have
tried to help her, so they take her from us, spouting off some clap about being
untrustworthy, only to turn around and try to kill her themselves?” He tosses
back his whiskey with a violent jerk of his arm, slamming down the glass and
refilling it with the other. Deciding Spike has the right idea Wesley does the
same, nodding his thanks as Spike automatically refills his glass for him.
“I did a little digging on my own and I think there is a lot more going
on here than we knew.” Wes says quietly, looking angry and grim. Spike shoots
him a look, tilting his head to the side in silent observation and quietly
curses; judging by the look in his eye this is going to piss him off, he just
knows it. “I think that someone arranged for Dana to be let out, I don’t think
that she escaped as we were told initially. I did some investigating and according
the report that the hospital filed, there was a mix-up with the medication
roster and Dana didn’t receive the proper medication. If she had, her Slayer
abilities would have been compromised and she would have been containable in an
institutional environment. Now some mix-ups do happen, especially in a
county-run program. It seems however that the nurse, who was responsible for
failing to give Dana the proper medication, quit her job and disappeared
shortly thereafter. Gunn and I can’t find any record of a nurse going by that
name and license in the entire medical registry. We did however find a work
visa for her and her country of origin was
Spike looks ill to his stomach, something usually well beyond a Vampire.
“You think her escape was engineered *by* the Council?” Wesley nods
fatalistically. “But what would they hope to gain?” He asks confused.
“I wasn’t sure at first but the more Gunn and I have looked into it, the
more that I think we’re looking at a Kamikaze set-up here.” Wes says, his
expression grim and furious. “Gunn and Fred went over the case again and looked
for any connections that would explain her release. At first they found no
correlation between Dana, Wolfram & Hart or one of us. Then Fred had the
bright idea to cross-reference the victims.” Wesley is so angry his skin is
flushing a dark red. “Everyone she killed had at some point been employed by
Wolfram & Hart in the past. The Doctor she killed was formally employed in
the medical division and the dock worker that you found; he was a former
security guard for the executive level. Everyone she killed knew each other in
some fashion or degree from their former employment. It was like she was
following her own personalized kill list.” Spike starts shaking his head in
denial as his quick mind follows Wesley’s hypothesis to its conclusion. “I
think that ultimately that list would have ended with Angel’s termination.”
“That… Buffy wouldn’t have allowed something like that! They aren’t
assassins they’re Slayers!”
“Buffy gave you that amulet knowing that it would kill you and didn’t
tell you and leave the choice to give up your life to you, can you honestly say
that the girl you thought you knew would have ever done *that* either?” After a
second’s hesitation Spike shakes his head sadly. “She consigned you to death,
robbed you of your chance to set your affairs in order, and had no way of
knowing that you would be restored after centuries of captivity.” Wesley
points, nodding as Spike looks at him startled. “Yes, I know about that. Angel
told me about it while we were worrying ourselves sick about what Dana had done
to you and whether you’d be alright. You’ve told me about what Giles tried to
do when he conspired with Robin Wood, so I think we can safely say that he’s
capable of cold-blooded murder if he feels it is an expedient solution at the
time.” Wesley leans forward and covers the back of his hand and squeezes
lightly.
Spike slumps forward, drained by Wesley’s revelations; rearing back with
a hiss of pain as his ribs protest the treatment. One of Wesley’s hands is
braced on his ribs and the other is lightly rubbing a circle on his back as the
pain filled haze clears from his mind. He nods his thanks and sits up straight
and sighs in relief. The pain is passing but it will likely be morning before
they’ve healed enough not to hurt.
“I think that you were the wild card that blew their plan to hell. They
don’t know that you’re… back, so they didn’t plan for that. I think that Dana
was released expressly to take on Angel, either to kill him or to be killed
*by* him, thereby removing a damaged Slayer from the line of succession. I
don’t think they ever planned for the eventuality that she would or *could* be
taken alive and to prevent our discovering their culpability in her ‘escape’ they
reclaimed her.” Wesley says stoically, sitting back in his chair and crossing
his legs. “From Andrew’s account, they never intended to help Dana, only…
remove… her as an undesirable result of
“If they don’t know I’m back than how did… Dana, was it... know me?”
Spike asks; his mind boggling at the concept of the complexity of planning that
her release must have taken. “I remember thinking that it was strange at the
time. She knew exactly who I was and it’s not like I walked up and introduced
myself to the chit. I heard the whole Slayer dreams rigmarole and what not but
are they so detailed that every Slayer would know me on sight? She spoke to me
in Chinese at one point and I can only assume she was somehow channelling the
Slayer I beat during the Boxer Rebellion?”
Wesley nods and motions for him to continue, looking intrigued.
“Well I certainly didn’t look like *this*
back then.” Spike points out. “I’ve actually changed quite a lot from how I
looked back then and it’s not just the hair and the clothes.”
“I understand what you mean. So how did she know who you were *now* if
she was channelling a Slayer that never saw you in your modern incarnation?”
Wesley asks. “That is a fascinating question.” He muses. “To my knowledge
Slayer dreams are usually vague random images, rarely fully formed and rarer
still are they cognitively detailed as far as names and associative matters. I
don’t know that any Slayer would ‘inherit’ knowledge about a specific Vampire
to the point where they would know them on sight and even their names. You were
however fairly infamous among their number. You are the only Vampire to have
defeated two Slayers in single combat but if that knowledge was passed along
than Buffy should have recognized you when you first appeared in Sunnydale. Did
she?”
“No they didn’t have a clue until my then idiot-at-the-time Sire let
them in on it. I could have walked up and killed her and probably been out of
town before they found her body.”
“So then we’ve got a bit of a mystery.” Wesley ruminates on the
possibilities.
“Not really, mate. Not if your theory about Angel being her target is
the correct one. If they somehow indoctrinated her with information about Angel
or Angelus….” Spike starts to say.
“Then it’s highly possible that during that process information about
you and maybe even Drusilla was also passed along, perhaps as points of
reference to make sure that she targeted the right Vampire.” Wesley realizes,
looking ill. “Then things go wrong because they don’t know you’re not dust in a
crater in Sunnydale. Dana doesn’t run into Angel before she runs into you, whom
she remembers from her… I guess we can call it programming or brainwashing. She
mistook you for her target!” Wesley suddenly sits up ramrod straight and slaps
his forehead. “When Angel went to talk to them, Dana went after him and had to
be sedated. We just assumed she’d sensed he was a Vampire and reacted
instinctually.”
“But you’re wondering now if maybe her brainwashing kicked in and
scrambled her melon again.”
“Well it is a possibility that has to be taken into account. It would
explain several discrepancies.” Wesley points out. “I fitted Dana with a
pacification collar at Angelus’ insistence and her progress is excellent, far
better than I would have expected.”
“What the hell is a pacification collar? It’s not like that bloody chip
The Initiative….” Spike’s voice is choked off as his hand flies to the back of
his head and he winces in remembered agony.
“Oh no, it’s nothing that inhumane to her.” Wesley assures him
hurriedly. “It’s just a simple collar layered with some magic that helps her to
distinguish reality from her nightmares and curbs her more violent tendencies
to a level manageable by conventional medication. It doesn’t cause her pain of
any kind nor does it force her to behave in any set matter aside from one.”
Wesley says finally. “Angelus insisted that the spells be layered and tailored
in such a way that would render her incapable of deliberately causing you, him
or any of us, including Harmony, any harm. I’ve tailored the spells in such a
way that if she should ever regain her mental health or reach a point where she
is no longer a danger to herself or those around her that the collar would fall
off. Until then the collar will merely help her during her rehabilitation.”
“Thank you Wesley. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone.” Spike
says relieved.
The lights blink briefly before lowering to half light as the stage
lights come on and the bartender steps into the spotlight. “Welcome to the Creekwood’s
open mic hour. Drinks will be half price for the next hour and anyone brave
enough to grace our stage drinks for free and is entered into the running for
our fifty dollar door prize. You can sing, dance, show us what you’ve got, or
tickle our funny bones but at the end of the hour we’ll have only one winner so
good luck. You can see this gentleman here,” The bartender points off-stage
towards where a man sits beside some expensive looking equipment. “…About the
music selections we’ve got available.” The man jumps off the stage and his
place is quickly taken by a succession of increasingly worse acts. Some sing
and dance or tell jokes or poetry… or at least they try to and it’s so horrible
that they have a marvellous time watching.
“You should get up there, you’d win for sure.” Wes says with a grin.
“And it’d repay us for the cost of the drinks.” Wes says encouragingly.
“Forget it I’m not going to sing in front of these people.” Spike laughs
and shakes his head.
In a darkened corner, out of the way of keen eyed Vampires, a red light
flares briefly and Spike suddenly sits up straight and turns to look over his
shoulder, so Wes doesn’t see the red light flash in his eyes before they return
to normal.
Spike rises to his feet in a smooth motion, sliding his arms back and
shrugging to send his duster sloping off his shoulder to be caught in his
hands. Wesley stares amazed as he slides his hands slowly up his thighs and
around to his stomach to catch the bottom edge of his shirt before stripping it
off in a single graceful movement. He reaches out to stop him as his hands find
the taped clips holding the bandage around his ribs and rips it away slowly
unwinding the bandages as Spike dodges his hands as they try to stop him.
“Spike what are you doing?” Wesley asks surprised and alarmed, only to
flinch as his question brings Spike’s eyes to meet his and he shivers at the
fixed, heated look in his eyes moments before he turns away and stalks towards
the low stage.
Spike walks slowly on the balls of his feet, one hip at a time, eerily
silent despite the boots that should be making a very audible tapping against
the hard wood floor. A song starts playing and the man sitting beside the
equipment looks startled as he didn’t touch the equipment at all. He looks
decidedly even more spooked as he realizes that the music isn’t coming *from*
the equipment!
I've walked these streets
A virtual stage
It seemed to me
Make up on their faces
Actors took their
Places next to me
Spike drops into a crouch and slowly rocks his hips back up, the thrust
and circling of his hips is constant as he walks around the through the tables
and their enraptured observers. Occasionally a bold patron even gets up and
presses close to the sensual dancer for a few moments before the song carries
him away, leaving his partners behind following him with their eyes, a yearning
expression on their faces.
I've walked these streets
In a carnival
Of sights to see
All the cheap thrill seekers
The vendors & the dealers
They crowded around me
Spike crouches and leaps the last six feet to the stage landing with a
lithe boneless grace that no human could ever hope to match. He sinks to his
knees, slowly relaxing until his back is resting over his bent legs. He arches
his back, stretching his arms out over his head and slowly pushing back with
his heels, he pushes himself up the stage until he is lying flat on his back,
writhing and dancing against the unyielding wood.
Wesley looks around, half-heartedly trying to find out where the music
is coming from, but prying his eyes away from Spike is difficult. Something
about the man’s voice is familiar though but he can’t place where he’s heard it
before but his talent is beyond reproach, almost as good as Spike’s but rougher
and less polished. A movement from the corner of his eye has his head jerking
around to look at the stage again and his mouth falls open, his tongue sweeping
out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.
Have I been blind?
Have I been lost
Inside myself and
My own mind?
Hypnotized
Mesmerized
By what my eyes have seen?
Spike’s flipped onto his stomach and he’s crawling to the end of the
stage closest to a table, the look in his eye is decidedly predatory. He
reaches the end of the stage and curls his legs around until he is poised right
on the edge of the stage, his eyes locked on the business man staring at him. The
staring contest isn’t a long one as Spike quirks his scarred brow, the corner
of his mouth curling up into a grin that is pure wickedness, as he opens his
mouth to flash the fang his tongue is curling around. The man swallows heavily
and pushes his drink aside and pushes his chair back in a mechanical motion,
his eyes glazed. Spike pushes off and slithers across the table and into the
man’s lap, straddling it as his tongue sweeps out tracing the throbbing pulse,
pounding visibly beneath the thin skin of the man’s neck.
I've walked these streets
In a spectacle of wealth &
poverty
In the diamond market
The scarlet welcome carpet
That they just rolled out for me
Wes gasps silently as the man throws his head back, writhing beneath
Spike, pressing his neck up to meet Spike’s questing tongue and the flash of
his ivory fangs. He’s panting as a thin rivulet of crimson runs down the man’s
neck before greedily being chased and reclaimed by the sinuous dart of an agile
tongue as Spike rolls across the man’s hips and dances his way through the
tables.
Wes’ eyes are glued to Spike as he dances, flirts, and seduces his way
through the occupied tables, stopping to accept the occasional tribute drawn by
willing worshippers. Wes stares as men and women alike using whatever is at
hand, forks, knives, fingernails, anything to draw thin lines of crimson and
win the attention of the blond god for even a moment. Lifeblood offered up in
benediction, anything to feel that sweep of a silken tongue, the slow suction
releasing blood screaming to work its will and give itself to the divine made
flesh. Several minor fights break out as jealous observers clash; for brief
moments there is some recognition of some negligible fact that dances across
Wesley’s mind. Part of him realizes that there is some connection he should be
making here but it flees his mind as a pale hand slides down his chest from
behind and spreads open slowly, low on his belly.
A second hand slides into his hair and gently tips his head to the side,
baring his neck for the sweep of a velvety tongue. Wesley shivers and a low
husky chuckle thrumming against the bone behind his ear has his head falling
back with a deep groan. The second hand leaves his hair to join it’s mate on
his belly and Wesley tips his head back to rest on flat rippled abdomen, slowly
rocking into and against him and he looks up into mesmerizing deep blue eyes.
I've walked these streets
In the mad house asylum
They can be
Where a wild eyed misfit prophet
On a traffic island stopped
And he raved of saving me
Spike slows his dancing until he
is barely rocking side to side and melts boneless over Wesley’s shoulder and
slowly pulls back up, dragging his palms up his chest along the way and turning
his head to press his mouth against his ear. “Are you going to save me Wesley?”
Spike breathes into his ear, chuckling and dancing away as Wes gasps audibly,
his hips jerking reflexively in reaction. He slumps against his chair as Spike
stalks away, dancing slow and sensually to the sound of a softly strumming
guitar and that oh so familiar voice.
Have I been blind?
Have I been lost?
Inside myself and
My own mind?
Hypnotized
Mesmerized
By what my eyes have seen?
Wes turns in his chair to keep Spike in his sights and his eyes widen
comically as Spike has left the fairly tight circle of the occupied tables
around the stage and is dancing where it appears that no one is sitting. His
hands are raised and braced between decorative two wooden pillars that border a
shadow-cast booth, his body is fluid sexuality and rampant sensuality in
physical form and his heart is pounding and his lungs are straining for air. He
feels like he’s drowning in a fire, heat licking up every nerve in hot pulses of
sensation that makes him want to cry out; whether in agony or ecstasy he
doesn’t know or care.
Have I been wrong?
Have I been wise
To shut my eyes
And play along?
Hypnotized
Paralyzed
By what my eyes have found?
By what my eyes have seen
What they have seen?
The sound of the guitar slowly tapers off to silence but the voice
continues to spin its spell and Spike continues to dance, a marionette on a
string to that siren voice.
What they have seen....
Wes stares as a clearly male hand emerges from the shadows in the booth
behind where Spike is dancing, sliding forward to rest low on that washboard
stomach. A second hand appears, curving over his shoulder, slowly slipping out
of the shadows carrying an arm down Spike’s chest and he shudders as the image
of a snake coiling around a tree is thrust into his mind; the serpent in the
Garden of Eden. As the rest of the man’s body appears Wes is on his feet as
Lindsey coils around Spike, plastering himself to his back and dancing along
with him.
Have I been blind?
Have I been lost?
Have I been wrong?
Have I been wise?
Have I been strong?
Have I been…
Hypnotized
Mesmerized
By what my eyes have found?
In that great street carnival
In that carnival?
Lindsey sings with a devilish smile as his hand lifts as though in slow
motion and a red pulsing flash seems to shoot through the room in a shockwave.
Wesley seeing his action barely has time to leap back his hands gesturing
frantically a chant flying from his lips and a shield springs up to deflect the
worst of the concussive wave from. The momentum is still enough to send him
hurtling backwards and crashing into a table that breaks under the strain but
he’s able to roll to his feet just as the doors to the bar explode inward,
heralding the arrival of Angel and Harmony from the back and Gunn and Fred from
the front. Lindsey lets his voice trail to silence and Wes sees a red glow
flash in Spike’s eyes as he immediately stops dancing and sinks to his knees,
curling up like a cat at Lindsey’s feet.
Wesley growls as Lindsey sinks his hand into Spike’s hair and strokes
him like a pet and Spike turns to nuzzle his hand, curling his arm around his
leg and holding on. Wes is startled as his growl is trebled but relaxes with a
wryly embarrassed blush as Harmony and Angel flank him.
“Let him go Lindsey, *now*.” Angel orders, his features flickering
between Demon and Human guises as he stares at Lindsey with his hands on his
Boy in such a familiar way.
“Oh I don’t think that would be
in my best interests Angel.” Lindsey says arrogantly, as he stands petting his
hand through Spike’s rumpled mane of hair. “You owe me and I’ve come to
collect.”
“We don’t owe you anything but a swift kick in the ass, Buster!” Harmony
says heatedly.
Lindsey only looks amused. “Oh at *least* one of you owes me a great
deal more.” Lindsey reaches down and strokes Spike’s cheek slowly and tenderly.
It’s an odd sight to be sure.
Wesley comes to a horrible realization. “You were the one that sent the
amulet back to Wolfram & Hart!” He exclaims.
“I do so much more than that Wesley. You should really be thanking me
you know.” Lindsey says with an arrogant smirk. “I knew that Angel Boy would
take the amulet to his dear Buffy, like the good little trained dog she
expected him to be. The Senior Partners expected you to use it but I knew that
it would end up with another. The Slayer wouldn’t sacrifice her perfect first
love; no she would leave that for the flawed knight that never let her down, my
dear handsome Spike.”
“He isn’t your ‘anything’ Lindsey, now let… him… go!” Angel orders
again, taking a step forward only to be pulled back by Wesley.
“We don’t know what he’s done to Spike, if you attack him now, you could
be killing Spike.” Wesley hisses, yanking Angel back and searching his memory
for a way to stop Lindsey.
Knowing that information is their best weapon, Wesley decides to find
out as much as they can. “You knew that Spike was the one that would end up
using the amulet? How could you know that if the Senior Partners couldn’t even
foresee that possibility?”
“The Senior Partners are foolishly distracted with their schemes and
plans within plans, it blinds them, makes them fallible. In their arrogance
they have grown complacent and they didn’t know what I know.” Lindsey smirks
again. “You have no idea of the true power that has been under your noses for
so long.” He chuckles and looks at them pityingly. “As amusing as it has been
watching everything self-destructing around you and none of you any wiser as to
its cause, it’s become rather boring. I think it’s time I reclaimed my
property.”
“Spike isn’t your property!” Wesley says heatedly, clenching his hands
into fists.
“No one here has more right to claim that than I do Wesley.” Lindsey
says condescendingly. “I was the one that altered the magic of the amulet to
contain Spike’s essence rather than destroying it as it was meant to do. I was
the one that made sure that it the amulet was returned to Wolfram & Hart.”
“If that’s true why return the amulet to us at all?” Wesley demands.
“I’m surprised and a little disappointed that you haven’t figured any of
this out yet. I rather expected more of an effort from you. I am finding it
hard to believe that *you* people were able to bring my plans crashing down
around my head.” Lindsey says disgusted. “The amulet was created by Wolfram
& Hart, it was bound to it and only within its walls could its magic be
released once more. Even so, the effort drained me severely. It took me months
to recover my strength enough to be able to send Spike a token of my regards in
the form of a special little gift in the mail.”
“So all of these plotting and scheming has been to get to Spike? What’s
so special about Spike?” Wesley says confused but then blushes as he realizes
that what he said didn’t come out sounding like he meant it to. “I mean Spike
is a special… I mean he’s….” He says flustered, only shutting up as Angel puts
a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly.
“Fred was running some comparative equations in an effort to track down
the center of the disturbances we’ve been having. She accidentally included a
disk containing some test results she ran on all of us, using us as her control
group and baseline example. She found something unusual in Spike’s test
results.” Angel explains, never taking his eyes off his Boy and Lindsey.
“Spike’s tests showed an incredible increase in certain
neurotransmitters focused in the Reticular Formation, Cerebellum, and other key
areas of the hindbrain. The hormone levels in Spike’s blood tests are off the
chart in certain chemical markers that are known to affect pheromone production
in all mammalian species. I think a combination of factors have converged to
make Spike a combination of a walking aphrodisiac crossed with Viagra.” Fred
says, rambling slightly out of worry for Spike. “I suspect that exposure to
Spike for prolonged periods of time causes a cumulative effect and has begun to
affect everyone in his vicinity and it’s manifesting as an enhanced drive to…
well mate.”
“It’s one of the rarest of the Vampiric gifts and it is all but extinct
in the modern Vampiric bloodlines. They’re known as Seducers in modern times
but the ancients had other names for them.” Angelus growls softly. “Succubae
and Incubi they were called in the old tongues. Humans became confused and in
time their origin was lost to antiquity and they wee believed to be a separate
Demon species rather than a Vampires who had inherited certain… traits. It is
also the basis of the legends surrounding the sensual sexuality of the Vampires
that have led Humans to believe that all Vampires are so gifted. In truth less
than one in twenty thousand will ever develop the true gift.” Angelus explains.
Wesley takes advantage of everyone’s attention shifting to Angel and he
quietly slips his hands into his pockets and begins to chant almost silently
beneath his breath.
“The Aurelius Order was one of the few old and strong enough to still
occasionally produce these rare breeds of Vampire. The Master recognized their
value and he ordered that all such Vampires be brought to his court, for their
own safe keeping of course.” Angelus says distastefully. “Darla was his
favourite Childe for more than the fact that he had sired her, she was a
Seducer, though her strength in the gift was relative weak and never fully
developed.” He explains. “The Master was curious to see if her gift would
‘breed’ true but I never developed the Seducer gift, instead I inherited the
Warrior Gifts common to all Aurelians, including Heinrich himself. When Penn
and Drusilla also failed to inherit them, The Master lost interest in his
little experiment.”
“Then the mad little Princess made herself a black knight to share her
eternity.” Lindsey says with a grin, threading his fingers through Spike’s
hair. “Darla knew as soon as she saw him, what he truly was and she knew that
he would be a true Seducer, a throwback to the oldest of their special breed.”
“Darla ordered me to train Spike to be a true warrior Aurelian,
merciless and deadly and to suppress any ‘other’ gifts he may have beneath the
training. She told me that The Master would take him if the truth was ever
discovered and I would not willingly give up another of my Childer to that
misshapen freak. I did as I was told and William the Bloody was born of the
ashes of William Bradley and The Master never learned the truth. I’m not sure
that Spike ever even knew the truth or consciously knows it even now.” Angelus
says sadly. “We hid him too well… even from himself.”
No one notices the flutter of Wesley’s hands in his pockets or the
stiffening of his muscles as he intones the last word of power under his breath
and taps into the deep wellspring of magic that he was born with. Only Wesley
sees the flash of golden light that turns Spike’s eyes from cerulean blue to
feral topaz that burns with an unholy light. He forces himself not to smile as
a cold smile fleetingly races across Spike’s lips before he carefully blanks
his expression once more.
Lindsey is looking inordinately pleased with himself and that worries
them all severely. “He has always been aware of it to varying degrees. It’s
like a whisper in his ear, a fluttering in his stomach, and a throbbing behind
his… well it’s a throbbing.” Lindsey says with a filthy grin. “Darla explained
it to me once, what it was like for her. She’d made quite a study of the
ancient legends and lore you know. She discovered several very interesting
facts.” Lindsey says cryptically. “She knew that she would never develop the
true power of the gift but she knew that if Spike lived long enough, that he
would.” Lindsey draws a fingertip down Spike’s cheek, shooting a triumphant
look in Angelus’ direction as Spike turns his head and catches the fingertip in
his mouth, nursing at it.
The expression becomes an agonized one as Spike bites down viciously on
his finger, clinging tenaciously as Lindsey cries out and jerks it free,
shredding it across his fangs in the process and jumping away.
Spike dives forward into a shoulder roll, twisting his body gracefully
to land in a crouch between Angel and Wesley and instantly their hands fall to
rest on his shoulders. Fred and Gunn hurry over and fan out beside their
friends, their solidarity unshaken.
Lindsey cradles his hand and its ravaged finger and mumbles furiously
gesturing with as best he can with his injured hand. A red glow starts to
surround Spike’s eyes but suddenly it flashes a dark gold and his eyes return
to normal and Spike watches, coolly licking the blood off his fangs with a
superior expression.
“What have you done?!” Lindsey demands, staring at Spike with an agonized
expression on his face. “Don’t make another fatal mistake and make me even more
of an enemy than I already am. Spike belongs to me and I’m going to have him.”
Lindsey swears, shooting them all a vicious look.
“I’m saving a soul… didn’t you listen to your own song?” Wesley asks
with a grin as he and Spike share a look and chuckle. “I should thank you,
Lindsey. You gave me the last clue that I needed to find a way to break your
hold over Spike and as you can clearly see, it worked.”
To their shock Lindsey chuckles and actually looks amused. “We’ll see
how eager you are to help him when people start dying. The aura effect will
only grow stronger, as he grows stronger and I’m the only one that knows the
secret of how to help him control it. You’ll *give* him to me by the end of
this.”
“What will your precious Eve think of that?” Fred says bitingly.
“I’m afraid that Eve had an unfortunate ‘accident’ but the Senior
Partners do demand their pound of flesh. Eve didn’t do her homework very well
I’m afraid, she bartered for my freedom and lost her own.” Lindsey says, not
shedding a tear for her. “She doesn’t matter; she served her purpose well as a
means to an end. Destiny makes fools of us all and it will make some of us… me…
Gods.”
“Whatever you know, we’ll find out for ourselves. Spike doesn’t need
your help.” Wesley says vehemently. “Whatever Darla told you, I can find out
too.” He says confidently.
“We’ll see Watcher or should I call you Watchdog?” Lindsey says snidely.
He reaches backward into the booth and snags his guitar slipping the strap over
his head carefully. “If you’ll excuse me however I seem to have an injury to
take care of. I have to have a bit of an early night; I’d hate to make a poor
impression on my first day at work. You know how that goes?” His smile is cool
and calm and patently false. It defrosts as his eyes fall on Spike. “I’ll see
you around Spike, that’s a promise.” Lindsey winks and leaves singing softly as
he calmly strolls out the door, cradling his injured hand once more.
Have I been?
Hypnotized?
Mesmerized,
By what my eyes have found?
In that great street carnival,
In that carnival?
The door closes on his quiet laughter and a softly spoken comment. “I
always did enjoy watching clowns run around like ants under a magnifying glass.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They all stare as the door closes and then turn to look at each other
with matching confused expressions.
“Well we can’t just stand here imitating statues.” Wesley says with a
scoffing snicker of laughter. “Spike come with me, we need to check your ribs
again. The rest of you go check on everyone else and call 911 if they need
medical treatment.” Wesley says commandingly, reaching down and gently pulling
Spike up to his feet, before curling his hand around his wrist and leading him
back to the table where they were sitting before the craziness started.
They all stare after Wesley and Spike following along with a docile
demeanour for a few seconds before they snap to follow his instructions and go
to check on the customers. Angelus follows Spike and Wesley, scowling as he
watches Spike calmly accepting his ministrations.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were hurt in the fight, Childe?”
Angelus demands.
“Why didn’t you notice that I was?” Spike snaps, his eyes frozen as he looks
as his Sire.
“Yes Angel, where *is* Cordelia?” Wesley interjects smoothly, almost
smiling as he sees Angelus look away guiltily.
“She… she was never here Wes. She died in the hospital without ever
waking up. I think that it was another trick of Lindsey’s to distract us.”
Angel says finally, as the Topaz colour darkens to brown in his eyes. Wes
lowers his head, shedding a tear for his lost friend but the Cordelia he knew
would have preferred death to being trapped inside her own body in a coma ward somewhere.
“Well it worked with you it seems.” Spike mutters bitterly. “Why don’t
you make yourself useful and go help the others check on the customers Lindsey
put the mojo whammy on?” Spike says looking away from Angel’s repentant
expression. “Wesley can take care of me.” He says quietly.
Wesley looks up from where he’s running his hands over Spike’s ribs.
“You’ve started to heal; it feels like the bones are knitted. I think you can
go without the bandages if you want to?” Spike nods his gratitude and pats his
shoulder in silent camaraderie.
Angel looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach, actually flinching.
“You are my Childe, Spike. I’ll take care of you.” Watching as Wesley finishes
checking his ribs and hands him his shirt and helps him into it before doing
the same with his jacket.
Wes sweeps up the bandages and rolls it up neatly before shoving it into
one of his coat pockets.
“Lindsey was right about one thing Angel, you’ve been doing just such a
marvellous job of that so far.” Spike says with a quiet growl. “I know that you
loved her Angel but why couldn’t you have loved me too? Will I always be second
choice, or is it third, with you?” Spike says looking up at him sadly. “First
it was Darla and Drusilla and then it was your mortal pets Buffy and Cordelia.
I deserve better than that. I may be love’s bitch but I’m not going to be its
doormat too, not anymore.” Spike stands up tall and proud and reaches down and
helps Wesley to rise as well.
Wesley moves off to help the others, discretely giving the pair some
privacy to talk.
“You know what you mean to me Spike.” Angel says quietly, taking a step
forward and tracing his cheek with a gentle fingertip.
“I know what I mean to you when there’s no one else around Angel.” Spike
says bluntly and Angel flinches under that accurate jab. “I’ve never been first
with you Angel, Angelus. You say that I matter *now* when I am all that is left
of your bloodline. You say that I matter to you when we’re alone but you
haven’t been thinking of me at all this week have you? Cordelia comes back, or
seemed to, and it was like I didn’t exist for you anymore. If Buffy comes back
it will happen again, it always happens again with you. You care for me when
there is no one else around to give you what you need.” Spike looks over his
shoulder at Wes, Angel following his eyes, his own narrowing and glinting
dangerously.
Spike turns back around. “There are people that will care for me Angel,
Angelus, and that will put me first. I deserve that, I deserve to be happy
too.”
“I’ve proven that Buffy won’t come between us Spike!” Angel hisses.
“I’ve proven that!”
“You didn’t have a choice Angel; we both know that Angelus didn’t leave
you a choice. It was either do what you did or go back to fighting Angelus for
your every moment again. You can lie to yourself and anyone else Angel but
you’ve never been able to lie to me… or from me.” Spike says softly.
Angel feels his dead heart clench painfully as he realizes that Spike is
working up to saying goodbye and he knows that if he does leave, he’ll probably
never see him again. He glances over at the others and sees that they’re all
absorbed in helping the customers and their attention is elsewhere and before
he realizes it his fist is flying out, landing a savage blow on Spike’s jaw. He
catches his slumping Childe and tenderly wraps him in his arms. Pulling him
against his chest in what looks like a loving embrace. Stroking his hand
through his hair and softly muttering a litany of apologies as he says that
he’s sorry over and over again.
Wesley glances over his shoulder and sighs both happy for Spike that he
seems to have worked out his differences with Angel. But he’s honest with
himself too, he’s a little sad too for what could have been. He knows that
despite what Fred said, his feelings for Spike aren’t the product of altered
brain chemistry or some metaphysical rare gift of Vampire physiology. They’re
genuine and real and he resigns himself to being Spike’s friend if he isn’t
destined to be anything more. He turns away from the couple and meets Fred’s
shy gaze, smiling as she quickly turns away shyly.
“I was thinking of maybe getting some breakfast after this, Winifred.
Would you like to come with me?” Wesley asks with a smile, as Fred blushes and
nods.
“I could eat.” She says happily, looking away shyly and turning her
attention back to the woman she’s helping to stand up.
Wes sighs and turns to look over his shoulder again and he’s startled to
see that Spike and Angel are gone. He chuckles and shakes his head, they’re off
‘making up’ somewhere no doubt and he turns his attention back to the job at
hand.
Angel carefully sets Spike down in the passenger seat of the Viper and
gently buckles him into the seat belt. He strokes his cheek and down to where a
dark bruise is blooming on his jaw in the imprint of his fist. He gently turns
his face away and sinks his fangs into his neck, draining him into a coma as
tenderly as possible. He needs time to put his plan into action and he doesn’t
have time to fight Spike but he won’t stand by and watch him leave him. He
withdraws his fangs and licks the wounds closed before standing and closing the
door and hurrying around to the driver’s side and getting in. Within seconds
the car is roaring into the night with its precious cargo.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Spike groans softly, his fingertips seeking out a throbbing temple and
pressing gently, trying to keep his head from flying apart. He starts to roll
over but gentle hands stop him, tenderly rolling him onto his back once more.
He blinks rapidly trying to focus his blurry vision and within seconds Angel’s
face is crystal clear.
“Angel…us…? What happened? Did we get the mojo whammy again?” He asks
confused, looking around in wonder.
Everywhere he looks there seems to be a flickering candle and the room
is all but glowing under their army of golden light. He looks down and his brow
furrows in confusion, is he lying on an altar? He raises his hand weakly and
sinks it into the black silk covering his chest and pulls it up so that he can
see it better. It looks like some kind of a robe. He lets it drop and tries to
sit up but Angel’s hands tenderly hold him down.
“Shhhh, Childe, you don’t want to try to rise so soon. You need some
time to regain your strength.” Angel whispers soothingly and he relaxes beneath
its cadence and melts back against the unyielding marble.
“Where are we?” He asks weakly. “What’s happened? I feel so strange
Sire.” He clings to his Sire, the only thing that seems to make sense in the
sea of confusion inundating his mind.
“We are where we should always have been My Precious Lad.” Angel says
quietly, leaning over and pressing his lips lightly to his and Spike can see
that he is also wearing a robe, only his is in a dark vibrant shade of scarlet
that is so dark it looks almost black in the light of the flickering candles.
He looks around again and he marvels at the décor. Everywhere he looks
there are statues and imposing figures of power and stature, glinting with the
warm glow of glow of gold. He inhales and his nose twitches at the scent of
exotic incense, herbs, and waxes and other scents that combine to set his mind
to spinning. “Angel where are we?”
“We’re in LA, at the
Spike stares at Angel, his mouth dropping open in shock and he tries to
scramble up. “You brought me to a church,
what are you nuts?!”
Angel laughs and uses his leverage to keep Spike where he is. “Will you
calm down?!” He says laughing as Spike re-doubles his efforts to get free.
“You’ll be fine William! I wouldn’t
have brought you here if I knew you would be hurt here!” He snaps, but his eyes
still flash merrily.
After a few more futile attempts Spike finally gives in and stops
struggling and slumps back against the altar. “Well at least there aren’t any
organs around to fall on me.” He says in relief, letting his eyes slip shut for
a moment taking several deep breaths before opening them again. “Why are we
here Angel?” He asks quietly, staring up into his Sire’s eyes.
Suddenly his eyes widen comically and his fist flies up catching Angel’s
jaw but the awkward angle steals most of the power away and it’s a glancing
blow at best. “You hit me you
Sonofabitch!” He snarls.
Angel catches the hand that hit him, still clenched into a fist and brings
it to his mouth and kisses the back tenderly, smiling as the tension leaves it
and it relaxes in his hold. “And you’ve hit me so that makes us even.” He says
quietly, lifting his free hand to stroke his hair off his forehead. “I’ve been
very foolish Wil and I’m sorry. I thought that you would know what you meant to
me and could taste it in my blood as I can taste it in yours.” He leans down
and presses a soft kiss to Spike’s forehead and again to his jaw where a bruise
once defaced. “You are my eternity and the fulcrum of my life, the point that
all things originate from. Humans, they are fleeting creatures that promise
forever but mean ‘while it’s convenient’ who have no conception of what
eternity means. A thousand of Cordelia or a million of Buffy, could never mean
as much to me as a single William. We are forever you and I and it is time that
our relationship reflected that.” Angel breathes the words but they are as loud
as the loudest shout to Spike’s ears. “You need the words, to have them spoken,
to know always where you stand in my life and in my heart and affections. So we
have come to this place.”
“Angel, why did you bring me here?” He asks again, very much needing to
hear the answer.
“We needed sanctified ground for the ceremony and I will no abase our
relationship by seeking out the dark temples. You may be a Vampire my Beautiful
Childe, but you are not a creature of darkness. Here in this place of light,
beneath the blessings of a benevolent spirit, we shall be made one, Mates until
the end of time itself. You will doubt no longer what your place in my life
is.” Angel’s eyes harden. “Neither will anyone else that thinks to take you
from me.” He snarls silently.
“We don’t have to do this Angel…us. I think I just needed to hear the
words, you’re right.”
Angel lowers his forehead until it is pressed to Spike’s and he sighs.
“I must tell you what I know. Lindsey was wrong, another does know the secret. The
Master told it to me long ago when I was but a Fledgling myself. You must
listen to me Wil and mark what I say and know that it is the truth.” Angel says
quietly, smiling as Spike nods silently.
Angel turns until his cheek is nestled on the marble altar, his nose
buried in the sweet smelling moonlight pale locks of his Childe. “The Master was
one of the oldest Vampires in any Order and he knew the old legends well. It is
said that the Seducers were throwbacks to the First-Mother, she that was the
Sire not only of Vampires but of all Demon-kind.” Spike is shocked but he holds
back his questions. “The Ancients believed that Vampires that bore her gift
were the key to ruling over all Demons. It is why The Master was so interested
in the old legends and ordered all who were so gifted be brought to live in his
court. He believed that one of them would mature into the one prophesied and
that if he could take that one as his Mate than soon all Demons would bow
before him and Aurelius.”
Angel strokes his hand down Spike’s chest as he continues. “He believed
that as a Seducer matured, they would reach a peak of their abilities and their
instincts would drive them to seek a Mate, lest their powers drive them into
insanity. He had come to believe that it would take many centuries for a one
who was so gifted to mature to that point and that only the very strongest
would survive the transition. I think that Lindsey engineered everything,
Childe. He made sure that the amulet was brought to our attention and that we
would learn just enough to make sure that I’d take it to Buffy. You heard him
didn’t you? He knew that you would be the one to use it and he’s the one that
altered it so that it wouldn’t destroy you just cage you.”
“But why would he do that Sire?” Spike asks confused enough to break his
silence.
“I know that it’s difficult for you to think about your captivity, my
Precious One, but think what happened to you there. You were isolated that is
the truth but you were also safe and
protected there, growing and maturing into your powers over centuries of time
while here only a months had gone by. Months that were used to plan for your
return, to set his plan in motion by making sure that Eve was positioned in a
way that would allow them to play us like fiddles.”
Spike looks ill to his stomach and reaches up to cling to his Sire’s
hand with an unbreakable strength.
“He altered the amulet by his own admission, Wil, is it so hard to
assume that he would have chosen the dimension you were exiled to as carefully?
We may be eternal but as nearly as I can tell Lindsey is still a Human and he
knew he would be long dead before you came into your gifts’ true power.” Angel
says sadly a tear ripping its way from the corner of one of his eyes. “He
conspired to make sure that while time passed for you, it didn’t for him. I
think he’s been working on this plan since Darla… was lost. I don’t think he’s
going to stop Childe. He sees you as the key to his destiny and he doesn’t
think that I can stop him. I can with your help.” His eyes stare into his,
demanding obedience but requesting his trust and love.
“What do I have to do?” Spike asks quietly.
“The old tales say that each Seducer will eventually reach what is
called their ‘Time of Choosing’ wherein they must choose a Mate or be driven
insane by the Gift that makes them what they are.” Angel says softly. “If you
take a Mate than together you can learn to harness, master, and contain the
powers that are boiling inside you.” Angel leans closer and presses his lips
lightly to Spike’s and says softly. “This has to happen, Wil; if you’re going
to be safe and everyone around you as well. I know that this shouldn’t have
happened to you for a long time and certainly not under these circumstances and
I’m sorry for that.” Angel leans back and caresses his cheek. “But I’m sorrier
still for not giving you a choice, My Childe.” Spike looks surprised. “I can’t
stand to see you take another for your Mate. You are my eternity and I fear I
would truly go crazy if you were to take another in my place.” Angel cringes
and expects a flurry of angry comments or violence. He is startled as a hand
tenderly reaches up to caress his cheek. His eyes fly open to find clear blue
pools looking back up at him with a tender expression that he’s never seen
directed at him before.
“All I wanted to know was that I mattered to you Angel. I know that I matter
to Angelus but that has as much to do with the fact that he is my Elder as it
does with me. I’ve never begrudged him that fact; I know that he is learning
what it is to love as a man and not as a Demon. You’ve never chosen me, until
now, I’ve always been an afterthought to you.” He places his finger across
Angel’s lips as he opens his mouth to argue. “Angel you know it’s true. Drusilla
needed you, we both did and you denied her your help. We were forced to turn on
our Sire to get the help you should have given. It was never our intention to
kill you; we would have stopped before the ritual harmed you permanently. You
knew about what the Initiative did to me and that I was forced to ask a SLAYER for help or face starvation. You
left me in Sunnydale, truly if you had given me a choice I probably would have
chosen to stay but it would have meant a lot to know you even cared.” Spike
says stoically.
“I know that I’ve made mistakes Spike and wrong choices. Don’t ask me to
step aside and make another one.” Angel says earnestly. “I know this isn’t
going to be a magic pill that will make the last few centuries just disappear
but I know that together we can make it and we can make a difference. This is
right; I know it and I feel it.”
“And if I still say no?” Spike asks with a devilish glint in his eyes.
“I lock you up and keep you naked and in my bed, with me, until you
change your mind.” Angel says with a grin.
“I thought you wanted me to
agree not disagree.” Spike says with a grin.
“I’ll take you any way that I can get you.” Angel says solemnly.
“And who is going to be my mate, Angel or Angelus?” Spike asks
seriously.
“Does it really matter Childe? We’re both in love with you and we’ve
come to understand each other better while we have been… cooperating in taking
care of you. There isn’t that much of a difference between us in these
incarnations. If the ancient scriptures are to be believed than at the end of
this rite, it won’t matter, we’ll be unified.”
“And you want that?” Spike says surprised.
“We want to be like you.” Angel replies surprisingly. “You’ve never been
so divided; you’ve always dwelt easier with your Demon than I ever have. I
think it’s why it took me so long to learn to exist with this soul and for
Angelus to accept that we… that I… have one. You are so much better than you
know Spike, than I have ever taken the effort to let you know that you are. Be
my Mate William and help me to kick evil in its proverbial Senior Partner
asses.” Angel says with a grin.
“So I get anarchy, blood, the eternal struggle, possibly a premature and
messy death at evil’s hands, and you in my bed huh?” Spike says with a sappy
grin as Angel nods, blushing faintly, which is really quite a trick for a
Vampire that supposedly has no circulation. “It sounds like a party; what do we
have to do?”
Angel leans back and reaches down and helps him to sit up and sits on
the altar beside him, sliding his hand into his. “In times past there were
certain clerics and holy men among our kind to perform rites such as these but
they are long dead and gone. We have had to rebuild the ceremony from
research.”
“Just how long have I been here exactly if you’ve had time to research?”
Spike asks suspiciously.
Angel clears his throat and ducks his head. “Angelus was working on this
before the whole mess with Cordy, Lindsey and Eve started. I think he knew
instinctually that your time was coming but I’m not sure he consciously knew
it. To us you are still only one hundred and thirty-four, not well over three
hundred. Until Fred told us what your test results said, Angelus hadn’t
remembered what The Master had told him so long ago because we didn’t think it
was relevant. You should have had at least two or three more centuries before
you reached your time of choosing.”
“And then Lindsey interfered.” Spike says suddenly understanding the
scope of his plans. “So what is it with us and getting locked in alternate
dimensions where time is screwy huh?”
“I think we should fire our travel agent.” Angel says with a wry grin.
“No need to Pet, I think I blew him up when I imploded Sunnydale.” Spike
says with a chuckle.
Angel lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Spike’s hand.
“This is what is supposed to be.”
“I know that it is. I feel it too. I’m always restless when we’re
apart.” Spike agrees. “I’ve always felt like there is someplace that I was
supposed to be, when you were cursed and left us. I convinced myself that I was
destined to be with Dru, then Buffy, but I see now, that all I was doing is
chasing after you. I could have found another way to heal Drusilla, Instead I
dragged us both to some back water hell hole, literally, of a town that
happened to be a Slayer’s playground, looking for the Sire that hated us.”
“If I had hated you I would have killed you myself in
Spike shrugs with a smirk. “No one can blame you; I am one handsome
bloke after all.”
“So you are my Childe… and so
very modest too.”
The pair is still chuckling as a small procession of robed monks enters
the
An elderly monk at the center of the procession steps forward after
acknowledging their bows with one of his own. “It has been some time Angel since
you have graced our
“Honourable Master, I would like you to meet my Childe, William Bradley.
Wil, this is Rinban George Matsubayashi, he is the Honourable Master of this
Spike bows once more and says something in a fluidly lyrical language
and Angel is shocked to hear the Rinban replying in the same dialect and the
pair laughs, followed by a tittering of laughter from the other monks.
“You bring us a most charming Childe to grace our
“Yes we are Rinban. The matter has become one of some urgency.” Angel
explains.
“We have secured the last items that were required by our research,
thanks to our brother monks overseas. The translations are complete and we
believe that we can emulate the Rite to some degree of authenticity given the
times. Dragon’s blood is a rare commodity in these times.” The Rinban says with
a calm smile. “It will take some time to prepare properly and you must complete
the cleansing rituals before you may enter the
The pair returns to their perch on the altar. “What will be happening?”
Spike asks nervously.
“First we must bathe in water sanctified with special oils, herbs, and
flower petals. They will give us a special handmade soap to use and we have to
clean our bodies of impurities. That isn’t really part of the Vampiric bonding
ritual but it is a necessity of their faith if we are to enter their
“I know I’ve visited
“Did you take the other one too?” Angel asks amazed by this Childe of
his.
Spike shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure what faith she was but I did phone
in the anonymous tip and hung around until the police showed up to take her
away. No one knows that and I’m not about to tell them either. It’d ruin my
bloody reputation it would.” Spike says gruffly. “What happens next?”
“We enter the
“Well nothing new there, Peaches.” Spike replies with a chuckle. “We’ve
always been strange as Demons go anyway and now here we are about to make you
my ‘lil woman’.”
“Hey I’m not the woman in this relationship, if anyone has to be the
woman it should be y….”
“Calm down pet. Maybe we’ll just both wear the pants in this family ya?”
“Well yes alright, that will work. Back to what’s going to happen. The
Rinban will hand me a dagger made from the single branch of a black ash tree.
It’s been sanctified and blessed as will all the things we’ll be using tonight
by the same ritual blessings we’ll be going through. Once that is done, no
Human hands may touch us or the ritual items until the ceremony is complete by
the way.”
“It’s a good thing that the Rinban isn’t human then.” Spike says turning
to look at Angel and meeting his grin.
“You’re right he’s not a Human, he’s one of what they call the ‘Bamboo
Spirit-Folk’. As I understand it they are somewhat like an Asian version of the
fae-folk of my birthplace. They aren’t truly Demons as Eastern philosophy is
very different than it is in the western world. We’ve made certain benign
changes to the ceremony that won’t affect the outcome but it will be less
distasteful for the Rinban to perform for us. The wooden dagger must be dipped
into the chalice of Dragon’s blood and then I will use it to pierce your heart.
You must not fear but trust in me that no harm will come to you. Your blood
must be collected in the chalice with the remainder of the Dragon’s blood. You
take the dagger and repeat the process with me.”
“I’m to trust you to shove a wooden dagger into my heart… no greater
love hath man or Vampire I take it? I do trust you… just don’t ask me to
explain *why* I do because I’m not really sure.”
“The Rinban will then dip the dagger into the chalice again and use the
dagger to inscribe our names in runes on our wrists. I will bear your name and
you shall wear mine. Our wrists will then be bound together with strips of red
satin. The Rinban must then read the ritual’s mantra in the correct order and
cadence which he assures me that the translations were most explicit on. If
everything goes well, the ritual will call forth the spirit of the three
Elders. She-Above-All, the Mother of us all, Marcus Aurelius, progenitor of our
Order, and the last the scriptures were not very clear on. It says something
about a benign spirit drawn to the ritual by the by ties stronger than blood.
I’m not really sure what that means but the Rinban believes it’s some sort of a
sign of blessing on the union.” Angel explains shrugging.
“Perhaps it couldn’t be more specific than that. Maybe it’s different
for everyone that tries this.”
“That actually makes sense.” Angel says approvingly. “If everything has
been done correctly and our Mating gains their approval, the First Mother shall
take the contents of the Chalice as the sign of her blessing. Marcus Aurelius
shall receive the dagger, which is supposed to burst into flame and burn to ash
and gone if he accepts the union. It gets a little more enigmatic about what’s
supposed to happen with the third spirit or what the sign of their acceptance
is. It says something very Zen about casting free the ties that bind and
setting the captured free and blood turning to shadow. The texts say it will be
very clear if our union has been accepted and sanctified but no record of an
actual Ceremony’s results still exist. We may be the first to find out in
untold millennia.”
“Well I always wanted to be famous… and not in an infamous kind of way.”
Spike says happily and Angel playfully socks him on the shoulder. “So there
isn’t any thing about what happens to us after we’re bonded, assuming it’s accepted
of course?”
“Well there’s some vague mention in regards to when a Seducer takes a
Mate. As long as we’re in proximity to one another it’s easier for you to
maintain control over your gift. Fred tried to explain it to me but she gets so
technical it can be hard to follow sometimes. She said she thinks that it works
like a self-charging battery on a broadcast tower. If you keep using the energy
in controlled bursts and often enough then your power levels will remain low
and constant. If you don’t than the energy just gets stored away until
eventually the battery is full and the transmitter starts working.”
“And that’s what’s been causing all the trouble at Wolfram & Hart?
I’ve been broadcasting whatever it is to people and it’s making them crazy?”
“I think that it’s an instinctive response, you’ve been unconsciously
trying to ‘draw’ your Mate to you. The Master told me that the old tales said
that a Seducer couldn’t be taken by force but if they chose to bond to a Mate
then great power would be unleashed within the Mates. It’s why he ordered all
Seducers be brought to him, he planned to claim all of them as his Childer but
to his knowledge there was only Darla because we managed to hide you from him. Truthfully
I just think that Darla was jealous. She enjoyed her place as The Master’s
favourite and the status it afforded her. She wasn’t about to share it with you
and I allowed it because I wasn’t about to hand you over to that misshapen
freak.”
“I appreciate that Mate, he was hideous.” Spike says distastefully. “I
was never into bats much.” They share a quiet laugh. “So if such wonderful
things happen when Vampires Mate, why haven’t I heard about someone trying it?
I’ve never heard of anyone who had mated in the old traditions, these days most
just declare themselves Mates and that lasts to about the ‘morning after’.”
Spike says with a chuckle but then he notices that Angel isn’t laughing but
he’s ducked his face away and he’s fidgeting nervously. “Angel…? What aren’t you telling me about this?”
“If they union isn’t accepted and sanctified, generally the Vampires
attempting it will know right away.” Angel says quietly.
“Let me guess… dust in the wind?” Spike says perceptively, wincing as
Angel nods. “And you want to do this why
again?”
“The scriptures were very specific that Seducers have to bond in the old
tradition or insanity is the inevitable result and you’d suicide eventually. I
know that we’ll be alright, that this is supposed to happen, I just don’t think
that whatever fashioned our destinies thought it would be this soon.”
“And ye would be right.” A man’s smooth Irish brogue replies; as a
slightly rumpled looking man steps into the alcove from the shadows beyond the
doorway.
“Doyle?!” Angel exclaims as the man grins and gives him a jaunty wave as
Spike chuckles and calmly waves back. “Why are you so calm, he died you know
and now he’s here talking to us?”
“I think you’re looking at the wrong person, if you’re looking for
someone that gets freaked out over talking to dead people, pet.” Spike says
with a wink, his features flashing to Demon and back as he and Doyle snicker as
Angel finally catches on to the joke and what a schmuck he’s being.
“Doyle, why are you here?” Angel asks curiously. “It’s great to see
you.” Angel smiles at his old friend and he pushes the dull pain of his loss
away as it throbs back to life with his return.
“The Powers needed a messenger and I thought I’d enjoy a little romp
around the ole stomping grounds and all that.” Doyle says with a bittersweet
smile. “Queen C. asked me to give you a shout while I was here too.” Angel
looks stricken at the mention of Cordelia; with everything that’s happened he
hasn’t had time to grieve for her yet.
Spike reaches over and gently urges Angel to lie on his side and guides
his head down to the cushion of his lap. He purrs softly and strokes his Sire’s
hair comfortingly while Doyle looks on in amazement as Angel relaxes in his
embrace.
“You know they told me what to expect but somehow I didn’t quite believe
it but I do now.” Doyle says laughing and shaking his head in wonder. Doyle
makes a motion towards the dais they’re sitting on and Spike nods and he jogs
over and sits next to Spike. He smiles as Angel reaches over and takes his
hand. If he had any lingering doubts about whether or not Spike is a good
influence on his friend they’ve just been answered with the easy way his old
friend has reached out to him. Angel has to be one of the most self-contained
men he’s ever met and one of the least demonstrative.
“What’s going on Doyle? The Powers haven’t been interested in me for
quite a while.” Angel’s voice holds only a trace of bitterness. “Am I forsaken
then?”
“Things aren’t as they appear to be Angel. You haven’t been abandoned or
forsaken by the Powers. Things were unfolding as they were meant to until
fairly recently.”
“Lindsey, you’re talking about that blighter Lindsey aren’t you?” Spike
guesses.
“Yes, he’s part of the problem. You see destiny isn’t set in stone, it
can be changed and affected but usually only within certain tolerances.” Doyle
replies. “For instance; if a man’s destiny is to die, then that is an event
that cannot be circumvented without affecting every event that was to follow. Free
will still plays a part, the manner may change but the result will still be the
same.”
“If a man chooses to step off the curb and avoids the safe that would
have fallen on him but gets hit by a car instead?” Spike asks perceptively.
“Yes, that’s it exactly, good example. We have free will only within
certain allowances as some events have
to happen in a certain order or everything else becomes destabilized and chaos
reigns.” Doyle explains. “Usually all beings are bound by certain restrictions
but now and then one side or the other occasionally tries to get the upper hand
by breaking the rules, assuming that by doing so they’ll gain the power to
correct any errors that they’ve caused by doing it.”
“What has Lindsey done and how do we undo it?” Angel asks.
“At this point the damage to the rest of the continuum is too extensive to repair. Lindsey’s meddling with
destiny has been acting like a catalyst and it is altering the events that
should have followed into directions that we can no longer predict with any
accuracy.”
“All because he wanted to try and use this… whatever it is… I’m
developing into?” Spike says surprised that one event could mean so much.
“That is only the most recent of his blundering attempts to alter
destiny. Think of it like a rock being tossed into a pond of still water.
There’s the initial disturbance as the rock falls in and then everything rushes
in around it trying to fill the void. The ripples that result changing the
surface and altering it forever from the state it was in. Under the Senior
Partners directives Lindsey cast the first rock, setting into motion the
ripples that have ultimately brought us here.”
“What was the first event that altered destiny?” Angel asks hesitantly;
he’s not sure he wants to know the answer, having a very sickening suspicion of
what it was.
“I’m sorry Angel.” Doyle says quietly. “Darla’s resurrection was never
supposed to happen and every event that has happened… since.”
“Connor was never supposed to be born was he?” Angel says clenching his
eyes shut, leaning into Spike’s embrace and clinging to his Boy.
“No Angel he wasn’t supposed to be born. He was a deliberate attempt to
steal the power of the prophecy in a way that would benefit the Senior
Partners. The events foretold in the true Nyazian prophecy would not have come
to pass for almost three hundred years and they mistranslated several key areas
of the scrolls. It never mentions a ‘son’, it mentions a Childe and its creator
uniting to defeat a Demon horde and shifting the balance from dark to the
light. It would have meant the end of the Senior Partners’ influence on this
plane so they tried to rewrite that which couldn’t be rewritten.” Doyle
explains. “They created life, where no life should have been. Lindsey fell in
love with Darla, a Vampire he was never supposed to meet and that lead him into
madness.”
“He tampered with destiny again, to try and get revenge on me by taking
Spike away?”
“He’s crimes are much worse than that. The lives he has altered are
innumerable at this point. The amulet was never supposed to exist. It was a
construct created expressly to destroy Spike, the Childe spoken of in the Nyazian
Scrolls, to ensure that the future it foretold could never come to pass. The
entire outcome of the battle with The First was altered by the amulet’s
presence. The Slayers and the Watchers Council had lost their way and were
slipping into darkness. The battle was to have been their shining moment to fight for their future and their world
and reclaim their destiny. Instead the amulet provided an easy way out and
their last test was a failure. Until that point there was hope.”
“Buffy wasn’t supposed to give me the amulet.” Spike breathes.
“If at any time she had turned from the path she had started down; by
not giving you the amulet or even by telling you the truth about what it would
do to you or by sending you to Angel. She had choices and she chose to take the
path of least resistance. She could have insisted that you escape before the
power consumed you. We all know that if she had stood her ground and refused to
leave without you that you would have left rather than doom her too. At every
crossroads where she had a choice to make the right decision, she instead made
the wrong ones.”
“What does all of this mean for her Doyle, for us?” Angel asks bluntly.
“The Slayers and the Watchers Council can no longer be trusted. There
will be no new generations once the present ones have passed.” Spike and Angel
turn to stare at Doyle. “New champions will rise in their place and they’re
going to need guidance.” Doyle looks at the pair of Vampires still staring at
him. “The Senior Partners played a dangerous game and now they’ve been trapped
in their own web and the cost will be high. They have been forced to make
certain concessions to us for their arrogance and that is why I am here.” Doyle
reveals. He holds up his hand and a stack of folded papers suddenly appears in
his hand only to burst into flame and burn to ash and gone within seconds.
“That’s a neat trick.” Spike says with a chuckle as Doyle laughs and
makes a little bow.
“Those were the contracts you and the others signed with Wolfram &
Hart; I’d say you can consider them voided.” He lifts his other hand another
sheathe of paper appears. “This is the deed for the former
Spike is the first to start laughing but soon all three are in stitches
over the thought of Wolfram & Hart bankrolling their chief rivals and
mortal enemy’s efforts to thwart them at every turn.
“The Senior Partners have made arrangements to remove certain property
and other undesirable elements from the premises within the week. Once that has
occurred; the Powers themselves will work their… beaucoup de magi… as I believe
young Andrew called it.”
“What happens to Wolfram & Hart then?” Spike asks curious.
“As I understand it, they’ve already set plans in motion to shift their
chief base of operations for the continent to
“Incredible, he screws up the cosmic balance and he gets what… promoted?!” Spike exclaims.
“He’s ruthless, cunning, underhanded, a liar….” Doyle starts to tick off
on his fingers.
“You’re right he’s the Wolfram & Hart poster boy for the perfect
C.E.O.” Spike states in disgust.
“You’re not just giving us this are you? What’s the catch?” Angel asks
flatly.
“You choose to come back and
work for us. Events conspired to leave you without a choice before, you just
sort of fell into working for the Powers. Now we’re asking you, Spike, and your friends to be our assistants here on
this plane. A new generation of defenders will rise in the wake of the Slayers
and with the Watchers Council being compromised we’re going to need someone to
train, oversee, and direct their efforts. You’ve shown yourselves capable of
doing what’s required and we will of course be providing you some help as
well.”
“You want us a pair of
Vampires, notorious ones at that, to take the place of the bloody Watchers?!”
Spike exclaims and then starts snickering. “Won’t that just toast Giles’
knickers?”
“Both of you have proven to be anything but typical despite your
notorious pasts; you are two of the strongest warriors we have. With your
friends helping you out and the assistance we’ll be offering, we hope to
counter the Senior Partners more directly. We believe that our inattentiveness
to mortal matters is what allowed this appalling situation to develop in the
first place. We need to take a more proactive stance on mortal affairs.” Doyle
gestures around him. “This is the main battlefield after all.”
“What about that crazy prophecy Wes is always going on about?” Spike
asks curiously.
“To be honest Wesley is a brilliant man but he’s working off some
assumptions I’m afraid. The prophecy reads that the Champions, plural, will
receive their fondest wish come true. It was a very easy error to make, a few
small accent where there shouldn’t be and missing where they should have been;
it’s easy to miss but it throws off the translation. Wesley just assumed that
you wanted to with Buffy, something you’ve never really hidden and you’ve made
it pretty obvious that you thought that would only happen if you were human. So
he believed that your fondest wish was to be human so he translated and
extrapolated the prophecy within his own experience to arrive at his version of
the translation.”
“So we’re not going to turn into real boys then?”
“If that’s what your fondest wish is than I guess you might but I don’t
think it is.” Doyle shrugs.
“What about Connor, Doyle? What happens to him?” Angel can finally give
a voice to the question he’s been afraid to ask because then he’d have to be
willing to hear the answer.
“I’m sorry Angel but Connor was never meant to exist and there isn’t
much that we can do about that. He’s a product of the Senior Partners and he
will find his way back to them eventually.” Doyle says, glancing at his friend
sadly.
“You don’t have to kill the boy! He didn’t ask to be a pawn or to be
born and he shouldn’t have to pay for that. Couldn’t you just take him off the
board? Let him grow up and be just like every other boy his age?” Spike asks,
feeling his Sire’s pain and finding it intolerable. “You can’t ask Angel to
agree to something at the expense of his blood! There has to be something you
can do to help.”
“If we do that he’ll be remade and he won’t be Angel’s son anymore but
the well and true son of the foster family that is raising him, right down to
his genes.” Doyle warns them. “He will have absolutely no memory of any of you,
because to him the events that created him will never have happened.”
“But he’ll be alive and not paying for mistakes that weren’t his own and
everything that Angel and the others have gone through won’t have been in
vain.” Spike argues and Doyle throws up his hands pleadingly. “I’ll agree to
work for you but not at Connor’s expense if he ends up being the price.”
“Ok, ok you’ve convinced them! Connor will live out the span of his
human years with the same choices and hazards as everyone else. We will make
sure that the Senior Partners don’t interfere or influence him unduly but mark
my words, other than this we will not interfere in his natural course.” Doyle
says. “As a personal apology to you for allowing our distraction from mortal
matters to have lead to this eventuality, we will see that this is done for
you.”
Angel turns in his side and buries his face against Spike’s abdomen and
hugs his Childe and soon to be Mate, tightly. He can’t put into words his
gratitude that Spike would argue for his son… for Connor.
“What about Buffy and them? Is it truly too late for them to be redeemed?”
Spike asks and Angel nods his support, he wants to know the answer to that too.
“The individual Slayers still have their free will and are even now
waking up to the realization that things may not be as they appear with the
Council. Some of them may well break off their association and find their way
back to the light. If they do they’ll eventually find their way to our service
if that is where they are meant to be. We can’t predict much at this point due
to Lindsey’s meddling interference so we can’t say for sure which of them it
will be or if it will be any at this point.” Doyle shrugs. “For the first time,
in any time, there are no answers and none of the destinies as they were
ordained will happen now. This has become a new world and your strength of will
is all that directs your courses now.”
“So big brother isn’t calling the shots any more huh?” Spike asks with a
sceptical expression.
“Maybe a better way to put it is that we’ve pushed the reset button and
we’re starting over.” Doyle says with a somewhat embarrassed expression.
“So we’re supposed to go back to working for the Powers, opposing the
Senior Partners and their agents, one of whom we know is going to be Lindsey,
but without the Seer, visions, and what not?” Angel asks. “You can’t tell us
who we’re supposed to be training just that they’ll find their way to us if
they’re supposed to, but admit that all of your supposed-to’s having just flown
out the proverbial window?”
“You’ve told us that the Council and hence the Slayers are compromised
but that some may be redeemable but you can’t tell us which ones? You’re
placing us in direct confrontation with an army of little girls born, and now
being trained by the aforementioned and possibly corrupt Council, to kill us. You were going to remove
Angel’s son from existence but now he gets to exist just not as Angel’s son
anymore and as wholly human. You won’t interfere to help him other than to make
sure the Senior Partners keep their bloody hands off of him so he can get hit
by a bus and you won’t lift a finger?” Spike recites.
“You want us to train your new generation of warriors and I can only
assume the ones that come after them and after them. After all we’re immortal
so we can just keep doing this for eternity or until such time as we can retire
with your blessings and receive our fondest wish come true, whatever that may
be? Have we got that about right?”
Doyle looks like his head is spinning at their rapid double team. “Did I
mention that you get to keep the cars?” He stammers eventually.
Angel leans back and looks up to see that Spike is looking down at him
and they both smile in unison. “We’re sold, where do we sign?” They ask in
perfect unison, turning to look at Doyle who looks spooked.
“Has anyone ever told you how creepy
it is when you do that?” Doyle asks looking vaguely uneasy which quickly turns
into a shudder as the pair shrugs and chuckles in perfect time again. Doyle makes
an ancient warding gesture against wizardry that has the Vampire laughing
outright. “We’ll skip the whole signing in blood thing; you know blood makes me
nauseous.” The pair laughs again and this time Doyle joins them. “Your willing
agreement was all that was required, as soon as you said that final
preparations were set in motion, so consider yourselves gainfully employed.”
Doyle shows them the deeds and contracts and to their surprise they recognize
their own signatures. “I should tell you, as a favour to an old friend and his
Mate….” Doyle smiles at Spike. “…That the first of your warriors have already arrived
and you’ve already started to help them.”
“You mean Andrew and the Slayer.” Spike says perceptively as Angel
groans and buries his face in Spike’s stomach again. Spike chuckles and pats
his shoulder. “There, there, Peaches it have been worse, it could have been
Xander.”
Angel jerks up and turns to look at Doyle in horror. “That’s not going
to happen right?” He asks with a
begging and pleading expression on his face.
Spike wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer. “If it
happens then we’ll do what we do best and deal with it.” Spike promises,
wondering if indeed the Powers could be so cruel.
Doyle gestures and the paperwork disappears and he almost giggles at the
child-like wonder on the Vampires’ faces. It’s almost enough for him to recall
the paperwork just so he can make it disappear again but his features soon turn
serious. “You have one last decision to make.” He says seriously. “The Powers
are going to assign a liaison to you but it’s up to you to choose who it’s
going to be.”
“You mean we get to choose someone to be our Eve… minus the whole evil
thing?” Angel says surprised.
“Well there are some exceptions. To keep in touch with the Powers, they
must already be one with them.” Doyle can see from the blank looks that he’s
not explaining this very well and silently curses. “We’re going to allow you to
call someone back.” Doyle turns and
holds out his hand toward the open door and Cordelia steps into the alcove and
walks over to take his hand. Angel rushes to his friends overcome with emotion
and sweeps them both into a hug.
Spike watches from the dais with an affectionate tolerance when movement
in the doorway catches his eye and draws his attention. He is across the room in
a flash sweeping up the pretty strawberry blonde and the quiet looking blonde
walking beside her into his arms.
Anya and Tara giggle and hug Spike back as they dangle several inches
off the ground literally caught up in his enthusiasm. Unlike most, if not all,
of the Scoobies they took the time to know Spike and got to know him and enjoy
his company.
The happy sound brings Angel’s head around and he hurries over to the
small group, pulling a laughing Cordelia and Doyle along and herding everyone
into a big group hug. Spike looks away from the happy sight of friends he
thought he’d never see again, some instinct drawing his eye back to the
doorway. He inhales sharply and moves forward smoothly, extending his hand
gallantly.
“It’s good to see you again Joyce.” Spike says quietly with a genuine
smile, as Joyce Summers reaches out and takes his hand and lets him guide her
over to join the others, who welcome her warmly.
“So we have to choose one of you?” Spike realizes,
looking struck to his soul that in their hands is a second chance at life for
one of their friends. It is a miracle but a bittersweet one as it is a gift for
only one of their friends and they must say goodbye to the others again. “How
can we do that?” He breathes.
Feeling Spike’s turmoil and sharing it, Angel hurries to his Childe and
wraps him in his arms and sighs as Spike turns into his embrace to hug him
back.
“You can’t ask us to do that to someone.” Spike gestures to Tara and
Anya. “We saw what it did to Buffy when she came back, I wouldn’t wish that on
anyone!”
Joyce steps forward and wraps an arm around
“I don’t know what happens to them all Joyce but Buffy said she was at
peace where she was.”
“Warriors for the Powers are given a special reward for their service
and selflessness. They are sent on to a special paradise where they may never
be summoned, called, or in any way coerced against their will to return. Their
time on Earth is done and they are gifted with an eternity of peace. Part of
Buffy wanted to come back, it’s why
“That’s why she did the things she did to you Spike.”
“It’s alright Glinda, I could have left but I stayed.” Spike shoots her
a sad but affectionate smile.
“No you couldn’t Spike. It’s not in you to leave someone you love until
they leave or send you away.” Joyce says quietly. “Buffy was foolish not to see
that about you but what is walking around calling itself Buffy Summers isn’t my
daughter.” Joyce says with surprising fervour.
“All of us volunteered to come back.” Cordelia says from the shelter of
Doyle’s arms. “Whomever you choose will return to this plane to serve as the
conduit between the Powers and you.”
“Return in what form?” Angel asks. “Eve looked human but I doubt that
she was.”
“Our lives would resume as we were at the time of our… passing. We would
live out the remainder of our human lives as humans. When the time comes we
will rejoin the powers and one of us or another volunteer would take our place,
unless we choose to remain permanently. If we should we choose that, than we
would be bound to you both for the remainder of your lives; regardless of how long that is.” Doyle explains.
“Could we have a few minutes to talk about this in private?” Angel asks
and Doyle nods and he leads Spike over to the far corner of the room, not once
releasing him from the safety of his arms.
“I can’t believe they want us to do this.” Spike mutters. “Is this some
kind of a test?”
“I don’t know, Wil but it’s hard to care when we can have one of them
back isn’t?”
“But which one do we choose,
Liam?” Spike breathes raggedly. “Do… do
you want Cordelia back?” He asks lowering his eyes insecurely.
Angel looks down at Spike and curls his finger under his chin and lifts
until their eyes meet. “I have the one I want.” He leans down and presses a
gentle kiss to Spike’s lips. Despite the distance they can hear the chorus of
awww’s that breaks out and they smile against each other’s mouths. “I don’t
think that we can choose Doyle or Cordelia.” Spike pulls back, surprised. Angel
gestures furtively and Spike glances over and sees the pair wrapped in each
other’s arms quietly talking.
“They look happy.” Spike comments.
“I think that they are and I can’t be the one to separate them just when
they get a chance to be together.” Angel sighs.
“I don’t think we can choose Anya either.” Spike says quietly. “She was
a Demon for over a thousand years and she won a place in HEAVEN, Angel. That is extraordinary and she’s earned the right to
have a little peace.”
Angel nods agreeing. “I don’t think that Joyce would be a good choice
either. I know that she seems to understand that the Buffy walking around isn’t
her daughter but we’d be asking her to fight the image of her daughter.” Angel
says worriedly and then clears his throat and mumbles. “Plus she’s never liked
me very much I think.”
Spike reaches up and rubs his nose against Angel’s in a soft Eskimo
kiss. “It’s okay because I really,
really, *REALLY* like you.” Spike says softly, smiling as Angel brightens.
“I do agree about Joyce though. Plus she said that part of Buffy stayed behind,
we’d be parting them again and I know how much Buffy needs and missed her Mum
when she was gone. I can’t do that to her again, even if it is just a part of
her, she needs Joyce.” Spike says with a grimace. “That leaves
“That leaves
“She’s such a gentle woman, Angel. We’re going to ask her to possibly go
against
“Let’s go talk to them and tell them why we haven’t chosen the others
than talk to
“I think I know what you want to talk to me about,
Spike and Angel turn to look at each other and nod. “We choose
“What happens to the others now?” Spike asks sadly, glancing over at
their friends, leaning into the dual embrace of Tara and Angel.
“They’ll go back, Spike but I think we’ll be seeing them again.”
Angel and Spike are shocked and
Chapter Twenty-Five
Angel nervously smoothes the non-existent wrinkles from his robe and he
shifts his weight nervously. The preparations went off without any difficulties
and the cleansing rituals and blessings were perfectly done. He looks down at
his simple silk pants and matching ankle length robe. The dark grey and black
silk is unadorned except for the simple and elegant embroidery around the
simple neckline and lapels. His feet are bare and nothing artificial adorns his
body; coconut pomade replacing his usual hair gel and taming his thick dark
hair into a resemblance of order.
The pants are loose and flutter softly in the night breeze that always
seems to blow in
“You look very handsome Angel.”
Angel turns to face Cordelia and Doyle and smiles. They’re both wearing
outfits almost identical to his; except for the colours they’ve chosen. Cordy
is lovely in a vibrant garnet shade of red and Doyle is looking surprisingly
regal in Kelly green. “Thank you. I’m glad that you could be here and that
you’re alright where you are.” Angel says honestly.
“We wouldn’t miss this for anything, are you sure you want to go through
with it?” Cordelia asks with a grin. “I mean being blood bound to Spike for
eternity must be a daunting prospect.” She jokes.
“Being without Spike is the
scariest thing that I can think of.” Angel says honestly.
“Well if the Powers are going to trust him to train the next generation
of heroes he must have changed a lot from the Vampire that I knew.” Cordelia
admits.
“I have to admit he’s different than I remember the lad being.” Doyle
agrees. “He’s certainly changed you for the better though. You’re much more
open than when I first got to know you.”
The soft metallic clang sound of a golden chime reverberates through the
halls, once, twice, thrice, and then a fourth time. A pair of robed monks
appears in the doorway and unfurling a length of black silk they bow deeply and
step to the side. Angel takes a deep breath and moves forward smoothly. Doyle
and Cordelia fall in to walk behind him. As the Elder, tradition dictates that
Spike already be present and awaiting his appearance as a sign of respect,
obeisance, and fealty to his Sire and Mate-to-be.
As he walks the silken path that is leading him to his Childe, he
becomes more confident with each step and less and less nervous. He enters the
He stops as his toes brush the edge of a large silk pillow and he sinks
gracefully to his knees, bending forward to press his forehead to the floor in
obeisance and respect. He rises still softly chanting the mantra, sitting up
fully as the last word whispers from his mouth. He crosses his chest with his
right arm covering his heart and bowing to the Rinban to honour him and then
relaxes on the cushion and getting his first real chance to look around.
A simple low altar of volcanic basalt has been erected before them. In the
center of the altar is a large obsidian plaque in the shape of a shield. In the
center lies the gold Gryphon Rampant that is the coat of arms of the Aurelius
Order. A large ornately embossed and embellished goblet carved from a single
mammoth block of smoky grey rock crystal is centered on the plaque. The thick
burgundy Dragon’s blood sparkles faintly in the candlelight and its scent is
rich and decadent to his sensitive nose. Wrapped in a square of white silk is
the ornate black dagger that has been lovingly carved from the single branch of
a black ash tree by the Rinban himself. Beside it lies a small crystal decanter
full of rich amber coloured oil.
He had a chance to see it earlier and the Rinban is truly an artiste.
The altar graces several small statues handed down through the Aurelius
bloodline from Master to Master of the Order. He was lucky to find them still
safely kept in a bank vault in
The statue of Lilith, whom the ancient scriptures call the Dark Mother,
she whom arose from the first darkness to give rise the races of Demon-Kind,
sits in the center behind the chalice. Three natural beeswax candles are
arrayed before the black obsidian statue in small holders carved with the
relief of the Aurelius coat of arms. The tallest candle sits in the center and
it is a deep, darkly vibrant red colour that represents the blood that sustains
them. To the right of the red candle sits a shorter black one, its function is
to represent the darkness of the night that succours them. To the other side of
the red candle sits a perfectly snowy white candle, just as tall as the black one.
Its function is to represent unity, as reflected by the fact that white is made
up of all the colours in equal measure.
Beside the Dark Mother lies the Statue of Marcus Aurelius, once the
Emperor of
On the other side of the Dark Mother lies a beautiful wooden carving of
a woman. She is dressed in a flowing off-the-shoulder gown and a deeply hooded
cloak. One bare foot is peeking from beneath the hem to touch the ground
lightly. It is a beautiful statue that
An incense burner; carved in the form of a gryphon from a single block
of precious imperial red jade; smoulders it’s rich eldritch mixture of scents
into the air. A thick tome in a rich dark leather binding and emblazoned with
the Aurelius coat of arms sits squarely on the altar in one corner and several
lengths of blood red silk are folded neatly in front of it. The motion of his
observations finally carries him to the silent presence kneeling gracefully
beside him on a matching pillow. Spike is sitting with his hands loosely
resting on his thighs and his eyes are closed and he is swaying gently; it is
only then that Angel realizes that he is swaying as well. He sucks in an
unnecessary breath as he catches his first glimpse of Spike.
Attired in the same silken pants and robe as he and the others are, he
is a vision in indigo blue pants and a lighter azure blue robe with elegant
gold stitch work along the mandarin collar and lapels. He smiles to note that
his Childe still bears his collar with its miniature golden charm fashioned
after the tattoo that adorns his back. Though artifice is usually precluded
from the ceremony, Spike was ordered to never remove the collar without his
consent and as his Sire and the Elder of his bloodline, he is bound to obey. It
shows his loyalty and fealty that he obeyed and it speaks highly of his
breeding and it will be allowed to remain but all other artifice is gone and
the rest of his usual jewellery is absent.
Movement draws his eyes and he watches as the Rinban kneels on his own
pillow on the opposite side of the altar. He carefully lifts the book of
Aurelius and opens to a page bookmarked by a strip of red silk and begins to
recite in an even measured tone.
Angel finds his hand moving seemingly of its own accord as he carefully
opens the silk shrouding the wooden dagger and he carefully lifts it with his
right hand. He holds it steady as the Rinban opens the stopper on the decanter
of oil and drizzles some on the wooden blade, never stopping his measured
recitation. He remains still until the decanter is set down and the stopper
replaced and the Rinban’s hand is clear. He turns and places the dagger’s blade
into the chalice of Dragon’s blood where it hisses and bubbles madly for a few
seconds. He wraps both hands around the chalice and lifts it reverently and
holds it for several seconds before turning to face Spike and finding that they
have moved in unison and are now facing each other.
Spike’s eyes are open, the blue of his silk robe intensifying and
multiplying within the blue of his eyes until they’re almost glowing. Angel
wants to smile at what he sees there, the perfect love, trust, and confidence
shine for all to see and no shadow of fear darkens the purity of the Cerulean
blue. His hands are steady as he unties the sash of his robe and shrugs his
shoulders, gracefully baring his chest and raising his arms to his side, palms
forward.
Angel draws the dagger from the chalice and circles it once, twice, and
then a third time, pointed side down over the bowl and then he strikes swiftly.
He drives the dagger into Spike’s heart and withdraws it quickly, smoothly
sliding the chalice beneath the wound neatly catching the blood in the few
seconds before the wound heals with no sign of it ever having been there! As he
carefully reverses his motions and returns the dagger and chalice to the altar,
Spike redresses.
Spike copies his Sire’s graceful example and soon Angel’s blood is
gathered in the same way as his own was and the chalice sits once more safely
on the Aurelius seal. They again turn in unison to face the Rinban, drawing
their arms up, palms turned inward to rest their fingertips on their shoulders and
extending them, once more in perfect time, towards the Rinban.
The Rinban continues his recitation without pause, still maintaining the
same slow and measured cadence as he uses the dagger to mix the contents of the
chalice. The mantra is constant as he acts swiftly etching a series of name
glyphs deep into the flesh of their wrists. He sets the Chalice down on the
seal and carefully wraps the dagger in the silk and lays it at the foot of the
statue of Marcus Aurelius. Once that is done he acts quickly pressing their
wrists together and tightly binding them with the red silk, just as his
recitation ends with the final tuck of the silk.
The silence is deafening and everyone inhales at once as one by one the
candles on the altar ignite themselves. Before their eyes the remaining blood
in the chalice slowly disappears before their eyes, leaving it clean and bone
dry.
They rear back slightly as the silk wrapped dagger bursts into a white
hot blue fame and within seconds it is quickly and completely burnt to ash. A
small breeze seems to sweep around them and carries the ash up and away in a
graceful whirlwind that seems to vanish as quickly as it appeared.
Suddenly their eyes flash down to the elaborate silken weaving that is
binding their wrists together and they watch in stunned amazement as the red
silk slowly turns to pure white, in almost the same motion as liquid being
drawn up a straw. As the last hint of red is suffused into the white, the silk
amazingly unwinds itself until it falls away completely to land at the foot of
the Goddess statue.
Angel meets Spike’s eyes and they release each other’s wrists at the
same time and turn them over to shine in the candlelight. The incised wounds
are closed and completely healed and in their place their wrists bear the solid
black silhouettes of the marks, now permanently etched into their skin. Almost
as one they lift a hand to brush their fingertips over the marks and they
inhale in unison, the marks are warm and pulsing beneath their skin and their
eyes fly up to meet once more.
Spike’s mouth falls open as he gapes silently at the vivid blue eyes
looking back at him from Angel’s beloved face. Judging by Angel’s expression he
can guess that his eyes have turned into the golden-flecked whiskey flecked
brown of his Sire’s lovely eyes. As they stare into each other’s eyes all that
they are is laid bare and for one moment where two existed there is only one.
Slowly like a tide receding from the shore, Angel’s eyes regain their true
colour and they both slump forward weakly wrapping their arms around each
other.
One by one the candles on the altar flare brightly and extinguish
themselves and the Rinban murmurs a quiet blessing of thanks and slowly stands.
“Friends, it is done and it was done well.” He announces proudly. “Liam Padraig
O’Shae and William Faulkner-Bradley may Buddha’s blessings be upon you and may
you walk always in the light of truth.” The Rinban bows deeply and stands
opening his arms and gesturing widely as a veritable sea of voices echoes his
words.
Confused, Angel and Spike turn in each other’s arms to follow his gaze
and their mouths drop open in identical expressions of shock seconds before the
blinding flash of a camera snaps them out of it. They stare at the room full of
faces, the brightly garbed monks kneeling in silent prayer, fill the
“As Buddha says one must embrace the time in which one lives.” The
Rinban says with a smile taking another picture of them as they dissolve into
laughter.
They help each other to their feet and only manage to take two steps
before they are swept up in the ocean of hugs as their friends swarm around
them in a chorus of congratulations.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Angel carefully locks the last of the heavy metal chests, containing the
carefully repacked treasured heirlooms of their Order plus one addition.
He quietly makes his way out of the small temple anteroom and nods to
the six armed guards that are guarding the only doorway. They will ensure that
the monks can safely discharge their duties and return safely, both Tara and Lorne
attesting to the trustworthiness of the men selected for the job.
He walks through the silent courtyard and marvels over the changes in
his life. Wesley was happy to report that many of the less upstanding employees
were already gone, leaving in orderly but vast migrations. Fred was overjoyed
to be able to tell him that several of the less savoury experiments, files, and
personnel from her section were also systematically disappearing. She grinned
as she reported that she’d secretly kept complete files of everything in a
protected and code-lock archive including antidotes and countermeasures. Gunn said
that the personnel department was reporting a large influx of applicants and
that Fred worked up a computer model and from the predictions they were
projecting within the week every employee that has quit will be replaced.
He looks around at the grand courtyard as he walks to the top of the
steps that leads down to the main promenade and out of the
Harmony is dressed in a simple little black dress and matching pumps and
a pale pink cashmere jacket.
A cacophony of sound precedes the arrival of the ever jovial Lorne,
leading Gunn, Fred, and Wesley; still hand in hand; out of one of the other
smaller anterooms. They’ve changed into their street clothes as well and Angel smiles
proudly. He has a gorgeous Mate and beautiful family and a new mission to bring
purpose back to his life; he is truly blessed.
He turns and stats down the steps and he smiles as the others instantly
follow him, falling into their accustomed places by habit. Spike falls in to
his left and slightly behind and to the side, mirroring Wesley on his front.
Tara falls into step slightly to the left and behind Spike, with Harmony
falling in behind and slightly to the left of her. Fred, Gunn, and Lorne mirror
them on the right. He doesn’t know when they’d fallen into the habit of walking
in formation or really how they decided who went where but he chuckles because
he’s sure they look good doing it.
He leads his family down the grand promenade, head held high and
shoulders back proudly and the monks appear to bow to them as they send them
off back to the secular world with a last show of respect.
Just before they reach the large gated archway that a quartet of monks
has opened for them, they pause and look back up at the
Angel feels a hand slip into his and turns and meets the smiling eyes of
his Mate, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Let’s go to work.” He turns around
and still holding the hand of his Mate, he walks through the gate, drawing his
family after him in his wake.
The offices of Angel Investigations: One week later
Spike blows through the doors of Angel’s office looking harried and
bringing Angel and Wes to his feet. “I said no Andrew.” Spike growls and Angel and
Wes share a snickering glance as the reason for Spike’s bad mood follows him into
the room, in turn followed by Tara and Dana, who have become fast friends.
“Come on Spike, it would easily triple our business, I’m sure of it!”
Andrew swears, even going as far as to lift his hand in the Boy Scout salute.
“I don’t think that plastering my mug on billboards all over town
wearing just boots, jeans, and my jacket is going to increase business Andrew!”
Spike growls. “ESPECIALLY not with a
slogan that says ‘I’ll be your Guardian Angel’ on it Andrew!” Spike stalks
across the distance separating him from his chuckling Mate and mutters darkly
about ruined reputations as he slumps onto a corner of his desk.
“It sounds like a very sound marketing strategy Spike.” Wes says with a
grin, laughing outright as Spike flips him off.
Angel wraps an arm around his bristling Mate and laughs as well. “I’d
certainly want you for my Guardian Angel, Baby.”
“Yeah; I would too!”
“And me three.” Dana says with a huge grin.
“Great is there anything else you’d like to torture me with for your
amusement?” Spike says, scowling darkly.
Just then the Angel’s private phone line rings and Angel leans over to
pick it up, since Harmony’s gone home for the day, shushing them with a motion
of his hand.
“This is Angel.” He says brightly, pausing to listen. The smile fades
from his face and his eyes blaze catching them all by surprise as his lip curls
back to reveal a razor sharp fang. His voice is distinctly cool as he says, “Hello
Buffy.”
Dadadada dat’s all folks. The story picks up in book two of the Under An Incubus Moon Series.
Book Two: A Gift of Love:
Angelus has taken his Childe as his Mate and won his heart... now can he
hold on to him as they face the ghost that haunts both their pasts.
Story One: The Memory Remains:
An emergency message from Buffy has Angel mobilizing his newly re-formed
team back into action as an old foe threatens to cause a war that will tear the
planet apart. How will Buffy and the Scoobies react to Spike and