Chapter Three

Cordelia Chase had seen a great number of things in her short life. Most of it she had witnessed first hand while growing up in a town which could boast its very own portal to hell. This was something different. This was the Slayer. All mighty and Chosen and superhero-y. She was supposed to be a champion and protector of the innocent. The Slayer was supposed to fight the big “E” and laugh in the face of death.

A tiny voice in the very back of her mind wondered what the hell the rest of them were supposed to do if the Slayer fell apart. Irritated with herself, Cordy bitch slapped her inner wimp and smoothed her hands gently over the weeping Slayer’s back.

Peripherally, she noticed an ashen-faced Willow practically run from the room. A moment later, the sound of retching could be heard in the connecting bath.

Oh, great, Cordelia thought. The champion of the people is a basket case and the most powerful witch on the planet's ralphing after a healing spell.

Yep, the world really was ending.

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Dawn looked up from her computer screen and eyed the potentials with interest. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it seemed to be a fairly animated conversation if their body language and facial expressions were anything to go by. The two were so jittery and on edge that Dawn felt the sudden urge to scream or throw something. She could only imagine what these girls would be like in the field if they were this freaked out now.

Probably wouldn’t last ten seconds on patrol before running neck first into a fledge’s fangs. Amateurs.

On the heels of that thought came the realization that she, herself, could use a bit of exercise to work off some of her own pent up stress. “Guys, I’m gonna head downstairs to work off some restless energy. Anyone wanna join me?”

“Training?” Giles glanced up from the book he was reading and read the time on the wall clock. “At this hour?”

Dawn shrugged. “You gave me coffee. It’s either training or an exciting new round of kick the geek. I swear, Giles, if I have to look at this screen one more minute, my head’s going to explode.”

Anya’s head jerked up at that and she smiled brightly. “Let me know if that happens. I’d like to be conspicuously elsewhere during the flying grey matter.”

Dawn rolled her eyes and grinned at the wary looks the potentials were giving her in the wake of Anya’s request. “You guys wanna come with?” She invited Molly and Kennedy. Her eyes fell on the shy guy who was watching everything around him with the tiniest hint of amusement sparkling in his crystalline eyes. “You can come to, if you want.”

Was it just her imagination, or did he actually smirk at her in response?

Once the group had crowded into the basement, Dawn pulled out and unfolded a small stack of sparring mats to cover the cement floor before taking her place in the center. She had changed into a tee shirt and leggings, and pulled her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her eyes. Kennedy and Molly had changed into similar attire while Connor simply removed his shoes and leaned against the wall.

Kennedy, unsurprisingly, volunteered to go first, almost laughing at the ease with which she would be able to take down the teen. She and Dawn nodded to one another as they prepared to fight.

“Take a swing at me,” Dawn told the brunette.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, Summers.”

Dawn laughed softly, “Have to catch me first.”

The smug look on the kid’s face pissed Kennedy off and she indeed swung her fist out. At the last second, Dawn ducked at the punch missed her by a good foot and a half. The potential Slayer swung again. Again, she missed. And again and again. Dawn lithely danced out of the way every time.

After about ten or so ineffectual punches were either dodged or deflected, Kennedy raised her hands to signal a time out. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Telegraphing your moves,” Connor replied as he broke his silence at long last. Kennedy glared at him.

“Like you could do better,” the girl challenged.

Connor thought for a moment before his odd little smile turned into a rakish grin and he stepped onto the mat. “Okay.”

Once they were the only two combatants remaining on the mat, Connor bowed to his opponent and assumed a defensive stance to mirror the slim figure before him. She smiled sweetly, her blue eyes dancing with excitement at the upcoming match. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a lazy half grin when she asked if he was ready to clean the mat with his butt. One dark eyebrow lifted at this.

“Attack,” Dawn ordered. Connor came at her, leading with his left fist. She waited until he was almost upon her before dropping into a crouch and swinging her leg around to knock him of his feet. He jumped back and away just in time, reminding himself that the girl was human and that this was not a real fight. His smile returned as he reached out a hand to help her up.

The two teens resumed their beginning positions on the mat and continued their light sparring match. A half hour passed by, the battle growing fiercer between them to see which one could surprise the other with the best moves and the fastest recovery.

It came to an end, finally, and Connor nodded towards the manacles he noticed hanging from the wall. “What are those for?”

Dawn followed the direction of his gaze and shrugged as she patted a towel across her sweat slicked skin. “Spike. Ready to call it quits?”

“Wait,” Molly interrupted from her seat on the wooden staircase. “You and your mates keep talking ’bout finding this bloke. Now we see you’ve got chains for him. Is he a were or some such?”

“Spike’s a va-”

“Dawn,” Xander interrupted, mercifully, before she could finish that sentence. Somehow, she didn’t think it was a good idea to tell a couple of excitable slayer wannabes that the current Chosen One was frantically searching for a card carrying member of the fang gang. Soul or no, Spike wasn’t just some bloodsucking demon. He was a Master Aurelian Vampire. One quarter of the notorious Scourge of Europe who had made it his personal mission to hunt and kill Slayers; the famed Slayer of Slayers who came to Sunnydale in order to make Buffy notch number three in his belt.

At least, that was who Spike had been before Buffy had devoted a good number of her nights kicking his undead ass all over the hellmouth. Back before a secret government-funded monster squad vamp-napped him and shoved a violence-inhibiting microchip in his noggin which kept him from feasting on the poor unsuspecting townsfolk. Before he fell in love with his mortal enemy and went so far as to win his soul for her.

Dawn’s inner romantic sighed dreamily. But, then her inner pragmatist gave the romantic a swift kick to the shin and reminded her that someone was speaking to her. Xander. “Huh,” she mumbled lamely.

Xander came a couple steps further down the stairs. “I said we may have found something.”

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William huddled in on himself; shivering and rocking back and forth within the darkest recesses of his psyche. He was a coward and he knew it. From the moment the soul rejoined the flesh, it had been tortured. Either with memories of the horrors the demon had committed while it had inhabited human body, or by the First Evil as it made itself look like everyone who had ever meant anything to him as both man and demon.

So William hid. Huddled and frightened of the nightmares which formed reality. It was easier to retreat inward to the safety of the darkness where nothing could touch him. For a little while, at least, he could pretend that none of it truly happened. If he was quiet and still, so still, the voices couldn’t find him.

“You’re pathetic,” a familiar voice spat from the darkness. William peered around himself nervously. A figure separated itself from the stygian blackness. “Good. You heard me. An’ ‘s ‘bout bloody time, you nit,” William’s lips parted slightly in surprise as the presence in his mind paced like the caged animal it was.

William knew without a doubt that he was looking into the eyes of his demon. It wasn’t the First. It was truly the demon counterpart the soul of William Lexington.

A disgusted sneer on his face, Spike crouched before him, elbows resting lightly on denim-covered knees and fingers loosely entwined. “Look at you, mate. Cowering in the dark like a bloody child hiding behind his mum’s skirts. This any way to impress our Slayer?”

Not waiting for an answer, the demon rose and resumed his pacing as he muttered something about ‘useless, fucking guilt and worthless prayers for salvation. “You may not care if we dust, Nancy. But fuck all if I put myself through those soddin’ trials to get the unholy living hell tortured out of me by some ghostie with an overblown ego. I got myself a plan, I do.”

Spike stopped pacing abruptly and squatted once more in front of William. A truly terrifying grin spread across the demon’s face. “This is what we’re gonna do….”

A few minutes later, William trembled fearfully and pressed his face into his knees. “I can’t,” he whispered with tears forming in his eyes. “I’m nothing…a shadow.”

“What you are is a pathetic excuse for a demon,” Spike snarled. “No wonder they bled you instead of the boy. You just stood there and let them take you,” the demon hissed through elongated fangs. “It’s kill or be killed, you berk. Take your bloody pick. If you’re not monster enough to help yourself, get the fuck out of the driver’s seat and let daddy have the wheel.”

*************

Spike stirred, opened his eyes slowly and tried his best not to move. The pain was nearly overwhelming. Broken ribs that had yet to heal speared internal organs which had not worked in over a century. Idly, he wondered,if the organs are little more than dead tissue, then why does it hurt like hell when they become damaged? I wonder if I can find myself a doc to take the soddin’ things out. Not like I use ‘em.

He noticed that the cavern was strangely silent where, before, there had been the endless, monotonous drone of those monks chanting away the boring hours they didn’t spend hunting and ripping apart lil girls. For the first time since he’d been taken prisoner by the First’s minions, Spike was utterly alone. The demon in him was a bit insulted that they had thought little of him that they had left him unattended.

Not that we’re a threat, William pointed out haughtily. We’re starved, badly injured and chained to a wall of stone in an underground cavern with no idea when that creature will return.

A shudder of fear and revulsion ran through Spike’s body at the memory of seeing that gnarled creature drag itself from beneath the Seal in the school’s basement. There was no doubt in his mind that the First had sent its pet monster to destroy his Slayer. Had the thing succeeded? Was Buffy dead? Was she…

Movement caught his attention and Spike lifted his eyes, swollen almost shut from numerous beatings which hadn’t had time to heal. The First had returned wearing the face of his love. Something inside him broke a little more to see the coldness in the usually expressive eyes. Still more frightening was the cruel smile slowly curving the gorgeous mouth he once believed he could never tire of kissing.

A roar echoed in the distance and that smile filled with sadistic glee.

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