Written by: kindred
Author's Website
2.
Three weeks earlier.
A chair and restraints were not unusual props in Spike's experience, but instead
of Buffy's quirking grin, Drusilla's face loomed before him. It had been a while,
but there she was, leaning forward, her face animated and vibrant, mischief
crackling in her eye.
Bugger.
That never ended well.
Trying to gauge the situation, Spike's mind traveled back a couple of hours.
He'd been on his way home to Buffy from a night out with the lads. A little
controlled mayhem and some minor marauding were just what the vampire ordered.
After all, he did have a reputation to uphold. The Big Bad wasn't retired. Just
because he preferred the soft expanse of a real bed and the warmth of a real
woman to the lid of a sarcophagus and opportunistic encounters among the undead
didn't mean he'd gone soft. Besides, being a champion and a hero type now, he'd
earned these perks and gained an appreciation for higher standards.
Spike didn't see the demons until it was too late. He had his nose bloom deep
in a bouquet of red roses and his thoughts were transfixed on another pleasant
evening with Buffy.
They were a pair of Peddler demons. Small, wiry and incredibly strong, with
a peculiar aptitude for camouflage, they blended in easily among the residential
privet hedges. This uncanny ability aided in their success with mercenary work,
although any suitably profitable business transaction in the offing would have
caught their attention. They were a sort of have gun will travel species, only
their weapon of choice was a paralyzing spray. It made them effective bounty
hunters, assassins and debt collectors.
They had been engaged by a client and brought to Sunnydale. The task was to
procure a specific quarry: an impossibly blond vampire with an ego and attitude
like a megawatt neon sign. With such a flashy, garish and easily identified
target, this job wasn't much of a challenge. Spike was obtained after a brief
and painful tag team match accompanied by a double dose of paralyzing venom.
The beautiful bouquet of roses made an attractive pile on the pavement as Spike
was dragged away motionless, but still aware. His romantic evening wasn't starting
off very promisingly at all.
The pair of Peddlers dropped him off at a drab strip motel on the outskirts
of town that had seen better days. A thin, pale woman with a gaunt, angular
face, wide vacant eyes and long black hair paid them.
Fastened to a chair with leather straps and secure manacles, Spike could only
wait. His confined gaze roamed around the room. It swam in his sights briefly
before he focused on the beige walls, beige carpeting, beige horizontal blinds,
and beige bedspread. It was a bleak landscape. The unimaginative beigeness was
broken only by the presence of Drusilla and an enormous demon that was carefully
arranging a bow in the hair of a small porcelain doll.
Miss Edith looked well.
The restraints were hardly necessary as the potent force of the Peddler demon's
excretions immobilized Spike completely. It did have Drusilla written all over
it though. She had a talent for theatrical overkill. She did, after all, pay
much closer attention to Angelus' lectures on conquering with style. Drusilla
danced to absent music in front of Spike, turning slowly in the dim gloom of
the room. At last she turned her attention to Spike.
"There you are you bad dog. You need a muzzle and chain." Huge hands fixed a
headpiece on Spike. His head was drawn back against the chair so he could see
Drusilla clearly. A few choice words stuck to the tip of Spike's stilled tongue.
The scenario didn't strike him as entirely friendly in nature.
It was a set piece designed by Drusilla, Queen of Histrionics.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I can smell that slut on you. You reek of
her. Well...not for long. Things are going to change for you and for her." Spike
tried to blink. No luck.
Drusilla continued speaking. "You were once well trained Spike, the perfect
sword at my side. But freedom and that disgusting soul have softened you. Are
you a chihuahua now? Do you hop over her teddy bears?" Her grimace was as smooth
as ice but there were flames in her glassy stare.
"As you can see I have moved on as well. Miss Edith and I have a new friend."
Drusilla held up her hand. Her companion took it and started kissing the length
of her arm up to her neck. Spike didn't recognize the species. It had red skin,
was nearly seven foot in height, human like in appearance with a tremendous
musculature. Two large lidless eyes and a ring through its widely spaced nostrils
gave it a distinctly bovine appearance. The demon's mouth was wide and lipless.
A long snake-like tongue emerged from it and flicked Drusilla's cheek.
"See what a treasure I've found?" The demon made a soft throaty response and
moved behind her. Hands that could snap Drusilla's frail looking body like a
twig caressed up and down her torso.
"Mmm," she cooed in response. "My treasure lives to please me, Spike. His mind
is full of my needs, my wants, and my desires. Isn't that right, my treasure?"
"My lady humbles me by her presence," the demon lulled in an airy voice both
seductive and grating. The annoying sound buzzed in Spike's ears. Surprisingly
nimble fingers for their size soon made quick work of Drusilla's lace gown.
The demon folded her garment carefully and set it down. He then ripped off the
length of fabric gathered at his waist. Drusilla's eye's bulged in appreciation
of those uncovered delights.
"I know only pleasure in his kiss, Spike...in his embrace...in his cock. There
is no one else in existence for my treasure but me." It sounded like things
were working out nicely for Drusilla. A big strapping lad with a one-track mind
and plenty of tongue to spare was right up her alley. Spike might have been
happy for her if not for his current circumstances. The scene smelled faintly
of vengeance served up cold and copiously.
"Perhaps you'd be interested in watching a real proficient in action. Come to
think of it, you never really knew how to fuck, did you?" Drusilla glanced over
her shoulder. "Lift me, my treasure. This poor wretch needs some lessons in
penetration."
Her companion lifted her from behind and opened her slender thighs to 180 degrees
in front on Spike's face. The demon then plunged his enormous erection into
her body. Rasps of savage delight sputtered from Drusilla's throat as she began
a familiar tune of agitated grunting.
Spike sat motionless. Seeing Drusilla being fucked was not new, nor remotely
interesting. It wasn't even boring. It was nothing. Spike felt a weary weight
settle on his heart. Buffy was waiting for him. Perhaps if Dru could speed up
the torture, the evening wouldn't be a total loss. Spike tuned out the uninteresting
acrobatics in front of him. He concentrated on Buffy. Her face. Her smile. The
touch of her hand.
Eventually, Drusilla angled herself forward, balancing on the arms of the chair
with her face close to his. A small glass vial hung like a charm from a chain
around her neck. The demon's relentless muscular pounding made the pendant dance
a rhythm between her breasts mere inches from Spike's face.
Drusilla accelerated the evidence of her extreme pleasure by growling words
of encouragement over her shoulder to her partner. This spurred the giant red
demon on to an increased pelvic rhythm.
"I've thought long and hard about you Spike. About how to punish you for your
naughty behavior and that is the reason for my visit. I've worked it out splendidly
and I've brought you a present. It's a good present. You'll like it." She licked
her lips in a lascivious manner. She was enjoying this.
"I'm going to give you back to yourself, Spike, introduce you to the delightful
beast you once were...and shall be again." Drusilla's eyes danced with demonic
glee.
"I'm going to erase that fucking bitch slayer and everything Sunnydale from
your mind, leaving you with your original purpose in death..." she paused for
dramatic effect, "pleasuring me. It will be a jolly giggle." She thrust herself
backward against the giant's chest.
"Too bad I won't be there to see the end, but I'm planning a vacation. I've
decided to reward my treasure with six months of uninterrupted me. He's looking
forward to that, aren't you, my treasure?"
"My lady," the demon croaked. It's tongue snaked out of its mouth and angled
down her torso toward her clitoris. Drusilla sighed with pleasure.
"Do you see Spike? How I wasted myself on you when my treasure was so lonely.
No more my sweet." She cooed with icy clarity. Her treasure groaned and slowed
his attentions, trying to stave off his release.
Long spidery fingers captured the dangling vial hanging from her neck. "This
is my gift to you, Spike. My gift of clarity and suffering. You will be yourself
again and you will suffer. And that bitch you've loved will stake you at last.
It's a pity I shan't see it, but I'll be too busy to care. This is all I need
to see." She unhooked the small vial from the chain and unscrewed the top. With
a rotation of her wrist a dazzling white liquid oozed onto Spike's cheek.
"Let me introduce you to my little friend. I didn't catch its name but you two
will get to know each other...intimately." There was a whiff of brimstone in
her giggle. The liquid stirred to life on Spike's cheek and slithered of its
own volition toward his ear. Soon it disappeared down his ear canal.
Drusilla started to bleat a desperate vocalization. "Harder, my treasure. I
need to come now."
"Yes, my lady," the demon replied with reverence. His hips thrust into a blur.
Drusilla came strongly, screeching her climax into Spike's unmoving face. His
eyes revealed the beginnings of deep cranial pain. Drusilla spoke again, her
words becoming liquid in Spike's ears, sloshing into his brain.
"Clean me, my treasure. You are so potent, I need to make room for you." The
demon flipped her upside down and sucked between her legs as she dangled before
Spike.
"That little beauty is your gift, Spike. It will eat away your memories and
all trace of that flesh bag slayer. Don't really know what else it will consume.
Let's hope it's a little soul hungry...hmm?" Her upside down grin could have
been comical if it didn't also have the distorted reflection of madness as well.
"I do this because I once cared for you. I will share my pain with you and it
will be delicious."
Spike's brain rang out in spasms of echoing agony. He passed out with open eyes
as Drusilla and her demon moved to the bed.
Never a negligent hostess, Drusilla eventually brought Spike a meal. She wanted
him in agony, but not hungry. A hapless maid from housekeeping had the misfortune
to be outside Drusilla's door when she was whisked inside. Drusilla struck,
the demon held Spike's mouth open, and a stream of blood poured down his throat.
Drusilla's sexual desire rebounded after she drained the girl completely.
Three days of cataclysmic pain ended for Spike as the small creature emerged.
It was larger and dark gray in color. The paralytic effect of the Peddler poison
was still active, but not for long. Drusilla thanked the tiny, engorged creature
for a job well done and then crushed it mercilessly under her heel.
3.
Spike woke again. A pillow lay under his head and his legs were tangled
in a blanket. A few comforts for the condemned? That didn't make sense.
Comfort never factored into Angelus' games. Spike felt woozy and his
head ached. His blurred vision cleared to reveal that same girl sitting
in the chair. She was looking at a magazine, but only just. Her focus
was on Spike. There was something about her he couldn't quite
articulate.
"You work for him, sweetheart?"
"Who?"
"Angelus." Spike let out an irritated sigh. Humans for minions? Entrées
didn't really qualify as a useful workforce. Maybe the poof was getting
sloppy in his old age, mixing up muscle with munchies. Spike pushed
himself up against the wall and draped his wrists over his widely spread
knees. "AN-GE-LUS!" he bellowed as his face twisted with bitterness.
Mysteries bored him. "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE WITH DRU?"
"Sorry. No Angelus here. No Dru either. Only me and you." Buffy looked
at him and went back to her reading. The lives of bed hopping starlets
usually held her interest, but today she couldn't get past the first
paragraph. Her companion snickered at her.
"You can't fool me. This has Angelus written all over it. Where's the
old bugger at?" Spike tilted his head to one side and called out with
false sweetness. "Yoo hoo! PEACHES!" Buffy shifted her hands to conceal
her smirk with the magazine.
"OI! ANGELUS! Get your arse in here!" The lack of a response gave way to
a darkly thoughtful expression. "What are you, pet, one of his whores?
He still likes 'em young and tender I see." Buffy's breath caught in her
throat. She blinked and forced a neutral expression, but she couldn't
stop her accelerating heartbeat.
"I'm the one with the blood supply, you baboon. Think before you insult
me."
"Yeah? Well get a fucking stake, girlie, and get this over with because
I bore easily. I'm not a bloody puppet for him or you or anyone." He
could hear her heart pounding from across the room. His teeth itched at
the thought of draining her, swimming in her blood. A sweet little thing
like that? She'd top him up nicely. That would teach Angelus. Send a
bloody useless human to do a demon's work. The bastard must have gone
soft or something. He better not be meddling with Drusilla.
Spike's headache rebounded with the thought of Drusilla out there, alone
and unwell. Then the oddest thought struck him. He wasn't hungry, not at
all. For some reason this human was feeding him. It was the only
explanation. He tried to stretch his mind around that concept when
another disturbing thought drifted into his mind. If there was a
possibility that this situation was not Angelus' doing, then he was in
trouble.
*
When Buffy wasn't in the Magic Box she wandered the rooms of her home in
silent desperation. Days passed with little effort expended on her part
to acknowledge them. She had no appetite for food and ate infrequently.
Each day began and ended with the same uneasy malaise weighing down her
heart. Nothing existed but his absence.
He wasn't telling her they were low on beer and crisps. He wasn't
delighting in the latest over the top schemes on "Passions". He wasn't
out sneaking a smoke on the back porch. He wasn't waiting to pounce from
behind their bedroom door. He wasn't there, period. Not in their home,
not in their bed. Not anywhere she could find him. He was just gone.
And then it started again, like a videotape paused at the ready to tell
the tale anew. Idle thoughts brought it all back in lurid clarity. The
helplessness Buffy felt that day consumed her once again.
It wasn't like Spike not to come home. His days of disappearing were
behind him. They made a pact and made promises. They had a future. They
had a reason. They had each other. By the time Buffy realized that
something was up and that she should start looking, the trail had gone
cold.
After a disappearance of three days, Spike reappeared on Buffy's
doorstep. A large demon deposited Spike's still form and rang the
doorbell before sprinting away at a speed too swift and agile for one so
extensively muscled.
Buffy opened the door and there he was, not conscious, but seemingly
unhurt. There was a trickle of blood on his earlobe. At Buffy's alarm,
Giles and Willow came to the door. Buffy brought Spike inside and knelt
beside him on the floor, trying to assess his condition. Slowly, his
face began to move, morphing uneasily into various gradations of the
demon and human visage. It was obviously causing him pain.
"Giles, what is this? What's wrong with him?" Buffy looked up into
Giles' puzzled face. Willow was the one who registered a change in
Spike. She sensed the residue of a powerful demon energy. It permeated
Spike. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. This was
not good, not good at all.
"Buffy, do you have any of that demon tranquilizer left?" Willow's tone
indicated that urgency was required.
"Will, it's Spike." Buffy failed to register the supernatural crescendo
Willow sensed.
"This isn't right. Buffy, something is really wrong. Can't you feel it?
We have to confine him. Now. Get the tranquilizer!" An alien sound
escaped Spike's lips, a deep and scraping caterwaul.
Buffy raced to the weapons chest in the living room and plunged into its
depths. A lone dart lay discarded at the bottom under a pile of
impressive blades. She returned just as Spike started to move.
"Buffy! NOW!" Willow commanded. Buffy wrenched off the plastic tip and
jabbed the full dart into Spike's thigh, straight through his denim. The
demon erupted instantly from a quiet state of repose to one of
scratching, seething, homicidal mania.
He was all eyes and fangs and flailing limbs. He flew at Buffy with a
fury that stunned her. It was all she could do to hold him off of her
with both hands gripping his throat at the furthest length of her reach.
She saw deep, empty, evil yellow eyes. His feral snarl of killing
passion did not abate. She was prey. A meal. Only warm blood to him.
Just as Buffy felt her trembling arms begin to buckle, Spike's forehead
undulated and he fell unconscious against her body.
"What the hell?" Buffy gasped in shock. She drew in huge breaths.
"Giles? Willow?" Her eyes opened wide with concern and fear. She
wriggled out from under Spike's loosening death grip. "I don't think I
could have held him off much longer. He's way stronger than he's ever
been. What's happened to him?"
"We don't have time to talk," Willow interrupted again. "He's got to be
someplace secure, like right now."
"Manacles, Buffy, and heavy chains." Giles spoke up with authority. He
began to plan an immediate course of action. Buffy took off into the
basement at a run and quickly brought up a cardboard box full of chains.
She returned to the foyer to see Willow kneeling at Spike's side wiping
a tissue over his earlobe and placing it in a zip lock baggy.
"Willow?"
"We'll need to research eventually, and this is something researchable.
I've seen C.S.I. enough times to know a clue when I see it."
They worked quickly and manacled Spike securely. Over Buffy's protests
they placed Spike in Giles' trunk and drove at an alarming speed to the
Magic Box. They carried him into a secure room Giles had installed for
demon interrogation. Buffy dragged in a heavy iron cage and put Spike
into it. Willow assured her the cage would keep Spike from hurting
himself. Buffy swallowed her qualms and relented.
Someone had done something to Spike. He was dangerous like this. He
needed to be kept safe and secure. Willow and Giles would figure things
out and find a solution. Until then, Spike would want to be restrained.
Berserk wasn't something Spike did anymore and he'd be devastated if he
did something deadly under the influence of whatever this was.
Willow was right, they hadn't much time. Almost as soon as he was
secured behind iron bars, Spike regained consciousness. Three
accelerated heartbeats and nervous breathing proved too much of a
stimulant. Spike lunged and strained through the bars and howled in his
torment. The most humane action seemed to be to remove the irritant
their presence caused.
Giles and Willow slipped from the room. Buffy stood at the door for a
moment listening as Spike growled guttural curses in half a dozen demon
languages. Her skin felt heavy and her legs began to prickle with a
spreading numbness. She looked quickly at the internal perimeter of the
room. It seemed sturdy enough. She hoped it would hold him until she
could bring him back.
With her mind otherwise occupied, Buffy slowly walked down the long
corridor to the shop, willing one numb foot in front of the other. She
joined Giles and Willow at the research table and stood motionless
beside it. No words were spoken for the longest time. Soon the familiar
piping of the tea kettle spurred Giles to action.
Finally Buffy spoke. "I thought you were building an office back there."
Her voice barely registered above a whisper. She was grateful for the
secure location but it was hardly constructed with this purpose in mind.
The room was basically a steel box with a drain in the floor. A drain
that would be needed if there was something to be drained away.
"It was needed." Giles replied tersely and then attended to the tea. He
prided himself at how faithfully he adhered to these rituals of
civilization, because he was a civilized man. A civilized man who
designed a demon interrogation cell with a drain in the floor to
eliminate all manner of nasty fluids.
Buffy nodded absently. Yes, she could see it was needed. Even she
realized that sometimes the rules of order had to be tossed. The demon
hordes hardly subscribed to established rules of conduct or combat.
"Have some tea, Buffy." His voice was soft and soothing. Giles turned
the tea cup around and angled the handle towards her. A proper tea cup
and saucer for a proper gentleman. Spike would have fished out his
mickey bottle and forgone the tea for some Jim Beam.
"I have to go back in there." Buffy stood and started to shake.
"In a minute Buffy, you need to get your bearings. He's...he's not going
anywhere. Have some tea...there's biscuits."
"What's wrong with him?" Buffy looked at Willow and back to Giles, her
face etched with confusion and the beginnings of panic.
"We'll find out, Buffy. We will. I'm on it."
"Willow...he's--" The room tilted in her sight and Buffy's legs gave
out. She collapsed to the floor, heaving a sudden weight of fear from
her body in gasps that had no end. Willow took Buffy in her arms and
cradled her, rocking her in support and comfort. Giles knelt and placed
his hand on Buffy's back.
They would figure this out. Giles had ways of retrieving needed
information. He was ready to use every resource available, and as one of
the highest ranking Watchers that arsenal was considerable. But there
would be time for that, for research and intimidation and good old
fashioned torture if needs be. Right now Buffy needed him to be strong
for her.
She needed him to tell her what none of them could know for sure, that
everything was going to work out.
Now she needed the comfort of lies.
4.
Seeing Spike confined to an iron cage was nearly more than Buffy could
bear. He hardly slept, as his senses appeared to be at full alert mode
twenty-four hours a day. He roared and growled and foamed at the mouth.
Buffy spoke to Willow about erecting some wards around the room as a
precaution. He needed to be securely contained and even in a feral state
Buffy knew he couldn't be chained indefinitely. At least this way escape
was not something Buffy need worry about.
He stayed in full demon mode both asleep and awake for two weeks. It was
a frightening spectacle intensified by the fact that Spike didn't
recognize Buffy or Giles. Buffy tossed containers of pig's blood from a
safe distance. She wanted to be a soothing presence but that was not the
case. She was nothing more than a tantalizing slab of meat dangling just
beyond his grasp, teasing him.
Buffy tried to swallow her fear but was less than successful. Day after
day his agitation grew. Occasionally he lashed out at her in words she
could decipher. He baited her with the ugliest taunts she'd ever heard
and even masturbated in front of her. From that disturbing day Giles
took over the feeding duties for a time.
What had she been thinking? She wanted so badly to ease his discomfort
but instead she'd stimulated him back to the level of his initial
murderous mania. With the onset of her menstruation she should have
known better than to go near him. The combination of her mounting fears
and the scent of blood was too much for him to take.
What disturbed her most was that she couldn't get a handle on her fear.
It was the scent of her fear that excited him. It hardened him. That was
something she'd never experienced, not with the Spike she knew or with
the demon she knew. She wasn't sure what was in that cage. His agony
caused her abdomen to ache. Out of necessity, Buffy removed herself from
his care for a while. She needed to steel herself and prepare for
whatever was to come.
*
For once Buffy was thankful for Giles' mysterious and misspent youth. He
used methods she didn't need to know about to discover some interesting
pieces of information. A little additional detective work confirmed that
Drusilla had in fact been in town exactly when Spike went missing. Buffy
knew too well what the rest would be. Drusilla was responsible for this.
"I have to find her Giles, she needs to be dust!"
"Buffy, try to calm yourself. I have made calls and set some
surveillance in motion."
"What have you found out?" Buffy looked up from the back table of the
shop at the tinkling of the entry bell. It was a customer. That was
really beginning to annoy her. Strangers barged right in, walked around
touching everything and then had the nerve to interrupt and ask about
the merchandise. It was intolerable.
"There's some good information that Drusilla and her traveling
companion, an unidentified demon, boarded a container ship in New York a
few days ago. It was bound for Europe."
"Send out the troops, Giles. She's got to be stopped. She has to tell me
what she did to Spike." Tears welled again and Buffy's headache
rebounded. Drusilla could have done anything...conjured
something...tortured--
"Excuse me, are those the only dodecahedral crystals you carry?" That
was the tone of a customer requiring prompt attention. The woman was
obviously suffering from the delusion that Buffy worked in retail. She
looked out of place in a magic shop, but Giles drew in some weird
clients. Why not a soccer mom in a crisp sweater set and drool worthy
sling backs? She should be in Target buying a super-econo bale of toilet
paper, not in a magic shop asking about potentially unstable vengeance
crystals...and why the hell did Giles have those things in his sale
inventory in the first place?
Buffy had no patience for pristine looking suburbanites with annoyingly
perfect highlights. "Is there something written on my face that says 'I
work here, ask me all your pressing shopping questions?'" Buffy aimed
her best don't mess with me face at the unsuspecting woman.
"Oh! I'm sorry. Don't you work here?" Buffy's head dropped to the table
top with a wooden thud.
"How can I help you, madam?" Giles' elegant voice intervened. He
discovered that deeply soothing vocalizations positively influenced the
bottom line. Amazingly, the more he lulled, the more the customers
purchased. Soon the agitated customer started fiddling with her hair.
Retail seduction worked like a charm.
Eventually Buffy felt a vibration on the surface of the table and looked
up to see Willow opening up her laptop and activating it.
"Will...when did you?" Buffy moved quickly to wipe some drool from the
corner of her mouth. She'd fallen asleep at the table. It must have been
the sound of Giles' soothing 'buy something expensive' voice.
"I didn't want to disturb you, Buffy. You were asleep--"
"God, what time is it?" Buffy jerked upright and rubbed her neck. Oak
tabletops aren't the best places for forty winks.
"It's 3:30."
"Any news?" Buffy wiped her face with her palms.
Willow had a friend at the university who, thankfully, wasn't as
clueless as his colleagues regarding certain biological anomalies that
went bump and grr in the night. He was an elderly professor of
archeology but his real passion was forensic demonology. Willow had
taken a seminar from him and they became friends. She knew the swab she
collected could tell them something, but she needed an expert. If there
was mystery demon goo to be classified, then Professor Grzb was your
man. Exotic excretions excited him like nothing else. When this learned
man peered into the lenses of the powerful microscope, his fastidiously
manicured mustache began to quiver.
"Your demon goo guy, did he have anything to say?" Buffy drew her
fingers back through her hair.
"Buffy, that stuff practically made Professor Grzb squeal like a little
girl. Believe me, that's not something anyone should witness. It was a
little freaky."
"Was it a good squeal or a bad squeal? Did he say anything that can help
Spike?" An absence of customers brought Giles back to the table.
"Have you news, Willow?" At her nod Giles pulled up a chair and waited
for Willow to begin.
"At first he thought the sample was tainted because the cellular
structure was so odd."
"Odd is bad."
"Buffy, please. Do continue Willow," Giles urged.
"Professor Grzb thinks the enzyme residue indicated the presence of a
transmutational demon."
"What does that mean?" Buffy had never heard of that kind of demon.
"An Alchemist? He thinks he detected that?" Giles' forehead creases
deepened. "What is the evidence?"
"What chemist?" Buffy raised her eyebrows in hope of some answers.
Willow spoke with accelerating enthusiasm. "Well, first he thought it
was a catalyst, something like the Prokaryote stone. You remember? When
we were trying to break the First's control over Spike? Well, this thing
had a definite cellular substructure and that means it was alive." That
news sent a shudder down Buffy's spine. Willow continued speaking.
"The protein chains were nothing he'd ever seen before. The spectrometer
images indicated that they were in flux. He did the tests several times.
It was kind of blurry but the matter reconfigured on its own in each
successive sequence."
"Does that mean a shape shifter?" Buffy asked.
Willow shook her head. "Not a shape shifter, more like a sculptor. And
it's old, like Paleozoic kind of old. The Professor said it was like a
living fossil. It was a process of elimination, plus gut instinct. He
said a transmutational entity was the only thing that explained his
findings."
Giles looked like he was preparing to speak but his face stayed in pause
mode.
"Buffy," Willow spoke with breathy excitement. "It's like a demon from a
story book...like if you found a unicorn grazing in your backyard."
"What does this demon do?" Buffy turned to Giles who was still deep in
thought. "Giles! Tell me something."
"Buffy...the chronicles do have some references to Alchemist demons but
they are most certainly extinct. I've always thought of them as more
legend than reality."
"Tell me what you know."
"Alchemists were said to be able to feed from the brain of any
creature."
Maybe she didn't want to know about this after all. "Giles, don't tell
me something's-- Oh God!" Buffy covered her mouth with her palm.
"They were said to be able to alter demon behavior, to eat away illness.
Their exact capabilities were never fully specified. As I said, they are
extinct; an actual specimen has never been documented."
"What has this thing done to Spike?"
"Upon a human an Alchemist would certainly bring death, but for a demon
the Alchemist could restore strength, presence of mind, purpose. They
were said to be purifiers, like the term implies...transmuting base
metals into gold."
"Spike's been purified? Turned into gold? What the hell does that mean?"
Buffy's mind flashed on the beast that had lunged for her time and time
again with nothing but the fires of destruction in its eyes. "Is he
still Spike?" Her voice became softer, less sure. "Spike's a good man.
He fought so hard. He has..." A soul. Buffy's chest began to hitch. She
had difficulty catching her breath. "What has she done to him?"
"We don't have the answer to that yet. Continued observation should shed
some light on this. We'll continue to research, of course." Giles always
had a matter of fact way of addressing problems.
Buffy sat in a stupor, unable to process what she had been told. "Do you
have the book that has the legend in it here at the shop?" Giles nodded
and stood. He climbed the ladder quickly and brought down an old volume
held together with string.
"It's something at least...isn't it Buffy?" Willow raised a hopeful
eyebrow.
"I don't know what it is Willow." Buffy took off the tattered string and
opened the fragile book. She wasn't the best researcher but this was
different. This was Spike and he needed her help.
Lost so deep in the woods, he needed help to find his way home again.
Giles walked back behind the counter and pretended to look over an
inventory chart. His mind churned. In the past he'd certainly had his
differences with Spike but time altered his perspective. His vaunted
council had not fared so well in retrospect. Quentin Travers and the
others who were erased from this world by the minions of the First would
never have seen let alone accepted another truth inside Spike. The same
truth Giles came to accept in the aftermath of the First.
The First, the devastation wrought on Sunnydale in the aftermath,
Spike's heroism and near miraculous return; these things changed Rupert
Giles and shook him from his previous prejudices. Spike was an integral
member of the team as any of them. He was a singular demon. He had an
affinity for humanity. He'd earned his soul, saved the world and had
been resurrected.
What would that demon have eaten? What could be considered an affliction
to be eradicated? What would Drusilla want cleansed? His humanity? His
soul? The truth of the champion he'd fought so hard to become? Giles
could not shield himself to the possible consequences if this ally was
lost to them. Lost to the demon. Lost to the darkness.
It was a cruel irony that Drusilla searched the world over and a handful
of minor sub-dimensions as well to find that mythic glow worm and then
failed to use it's restorative abilities for herself. Such was the
nature of her madness that she was completely oblivious to her own
condition. Drusilla might have attained some kind of peace with that
creature's healing abilities. The Alchemist could have eaten her madness
and left her to exist as a vampire but devoid of the torturous legacy of
Angelus' attentions. But for Drusilla, her insanity was the only remnant
she had of her beloved sire's touch. It was her only true possession.
Buffy turned the dusty pages until she came to a page entitled "The
Tears of the Maiden". The print was tiny and in a really distracting
font.
"In the time of darkness when the tribes of Moloch wandered without
purpose and the clan wars spilled upon the dry land, a sword found its
way through the flesh of the unclean..."
It read like a blurb on the cover of some weird fantasy novel or
computer game Xander might have quoted, but it was longer than a blurb.
Much longer. Apparently, long ago before the primordial swamps got their
own Starbucks franchises these biggy big demon god-like thingys wanted
to unite the hordes of vampires and other preternaturally creepy
crawlies so they found this Amazon tribe of demon maidens and...
Well, from there it went off on a few uninteresting tangents, each
heavily detailed with exceptionally vague metaphors complete with
unhelpful footnotes. The chronicles could have really used some reader
friendly editors. It was tough slogging but Buffy eventually came to a
big climactic uprising. The remaining paragraphs were action packed but
mystifying. Anyway... big hairy demon warrior and bigger, hairier demon
maiden chick and the shedding of a tear that dissolved into the hero and
made him all heroic-- er, demonic again. The end.
Buffy's headache began to crackle in her skull. What exactly was she
supposed to derive from all this hairy detail?
Prophecies were so much better than legends. Prophecies were succinct at
least. For better or worse they usually got to the puzzling point in ten
words or less. Legends meandered through reams of perplexing minutiae.
Why didn't the Watchers ever go for a Cliff's notes version? It would be
shorter and easier to digest. Buffy's head lowered to the table once
more with a slow defeated thunk.
CONTINUED...