Ratings: Up to 17+. Ratings vary with chapter, but this series does contain language, violence, abuse, torture, bloodplay, religious/mystical/biblical reference with a vampire theme, incest, and EXPLICIT m/m slash. If any of this offends you, PLEASE do not read.
Spoilers: Angel S5, Damage
Feedback: Welcomed and adored.
Disclaimer: I don't own BtVs or Angel characters. Joss Whedon, David Greenwald, Mutant Enemy and the WB...all rights. Some ideas and terms LOOSELY used from "Vampire: The Masquerade, the role-playing game created by Mark ReinHagen for White Wolf Game Studio. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: Regan MacNeil was the young girl possessed in the `Exorcist.'
Thanks to Souless_angel85, who looked over this story and also found errors in story #6, Dracula.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Los Angeles, California, January 28, 2006
“Are you still moping around?” Walking into their private sitting room, Nic found Spike lying on the couch, pillow over his face.
“O oomph,” was Spike’s muffled reply.
“Speak English, boy.” Nic pulled the pillow off Spike’s face. “I can’t understand a thing you’re saying.”
“I said,” Spike raised his voice to a shout, “I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Coming down with something?” Nic repeated. “Like what, a cold, the flu? Vampires don’t get sick. Oh wait, I forget who I’m talking to, William, the vampire, who can make the impossible possible.”
“Sod off.” Spike snapped back, which earned him a smack with the pillow.
“What’s with the attitude?” Nic asked. “Tonight you’re going off to San Diego to kick some butt. Doesn’t that usually put you into a *good* mood?”
“Yeah, right.” Spike mumbled, considering if he should try going with the I’m-sick routine. Except going to San Diego to work with Faith and company was an important public relations mission, and the Clan and the Ventrues were counting on him. Sighing, he rolled over onto his stomach. “Don’t suppose you’d like to join me tonight?”
“What?” Nic flopped himself down into a lounge chair, a frown on his face. “I thought Angelus decided that the best thing would be for you to go with just a bodyguard because a bunch of us charging in could be seen as threatening to the Slayers.”
“I know the strategy.” Spike said irritably. “I was there when our fearless Leader and King was discussing it.”
“Yes, but you usually don’t listen.” Nic answered in a mild, but matter-of-fact tone.
“Sod off.” Spike repeated, as he turned over, presenting his back to his uncle. Discussing it was futile because it would mean admitting, not just to Nic, but to the Tremeren and Ventrue Clans combined that he was a big, old nancy-boy.
**
The Offices of Wolfram & Hart, January, 2004
“A girl over in the nuthouse went all Cuckoo's Nest, hacked up a couple of guards and went over the wall.” Standing in Angel’s office at Wolfram & Hart, Harmony was relaying a phone message she had just received.
“Really not our department, Harmony.” Angel replied with a sigh. He had been running the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart for eight months now, and he still felt totally out of his element.
“Notify the authorities. Make sure they're on it.” Wesley ordered quietly. He, along with Charles, Fred, and Lorne had all accepted positions at the law firm, when Angel had become CEO. As a group they decided that being on the inside could give them advantages in their fight against evil.
“OK, but they better bring a priest. Looks like this chick's gone all kinds of exorcist.” Harmony shrugged, turning toward the door.
“Wait a minute. She's possessed?” Angel looked up quickly, finally understanding what Harmony had been talking about.
“Duh!” Harmony resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Sometimes Angel could be so dense. “Didn't I say that?”
“I'll get a team together.” Wesley stood up, his posture now poised with urgency.
“No. Wait.” Angel ordered. “I don't want to go storming in with troops until we know what we got here. I've seen a few of these possession cases. They have to be handled very carefully. Many times it takes a real finesse job.”
Slipping out of the office, Spike hoped he went unnoticed. Walking swiftly, he made a beeline to an office just down the hall from Angel’s. Not bothering to knock, he let himself in. “Hey.” He greeted his uncle Damon, and his cousin Eamon. “I’m bored.” He announced, as he gave his cousin a sly look. “Thought I go and find out what’s Nic’s doing. Want to come? We can both go bug the shit out of him. Getting it from two of us will be doubly annoying.”
Looking up from some reports he was working on, Damon studied his nephew carefully. He knew Spike and his propensity for finding trouble.
Standing in front of his uncle, Spike gave him an I’m-truly-just-going-to-look-for-Nic grin.
“If Nic decides to knock you both unconscious, I won’t fault him.” Damon said mildly, as he returned to his reports.
“Right.” Spike gave a nod at his uncle. “If you find us both unconscious, you’ll know why.” Giving Eamon a come-on wave of the hand, he quickly left his uncle’s office. “This way, mate.” He whispered, as he pulled his cousin to the elevators.
Eamon wasn’t stupid. He knew immediately that Spike was up to something. “So, I take it we’re *not* going to go and bother Nic.”
“Nope.” Spike hit the elevator button for the parking garage. “Gonna go find us a little girl.”
“What?” Eamon exclaimed, as he followed Spike to a sleek sports car. “And I thought Angelus isn’t permitting you to drive anymore after the smash up you had with his Viper.”
“Get in.” Spike hit the keyless entry and the car tooted in response.
Heaving a sigh, Eamon slid into the passenger’s seat, wondering what kind of punishment he was going to have to endure because of another one of Spike’s hare-brained escapades.
“A mental patient escaped from Los Angeles County’s psychiatric ward. Word is, is that she’s possessed. We’re going to go find her.” Spike said with a triumphant smile, as he hit the accelerator and screeched out of the parking garage.
“You weren’t actually given this assignment, were you?” Eamon asked, throwing a skeptical glance over at Spike.
“I was in *His* office, when Harmony delivered the message. The big Poof is probably still there discussing all the fine details; who’s going to go find her, how will they find her, etc, etc. We’re vampires.” He stated empathically. “We use our noses and follow the scent. But ever since my old Sire became head of this poncy law firm, all he does is talk. He has to have a meeting about how many meetings he’s going to have.”
“So you just decided that *we* would go and find this girl without telling anyone.” Eamon said with another sigh.
“By the time they finish yapping, we’ll have found her and brought her in. Then brown nose Wesley can figure out how to unpossess her.” Spike grinned at his cousin. “Give us something to do for once.”
**
January 2006
“William.” The soft, so familiar voice interrupted Spike’s musing. “Nic tells me that you’re not feeling well. What’s wrong?”
Groaning, Spike rolled over to face his Sire and older brother. “Just a stomach twinge, nothing more.”
“It isn’t because of everything you ate last night?” Djoser asked, a false innocence plastered on his face.
Giving his brother death glare, Spike sat up.
“Last night?” Angel had no idea what Spike had been up to the night before. “What did you eat last night?”
“Carry-out.” Nic answered, as he returned to the sitting room. “He bullied a couple of minions to go and get him a party tray of buffalo wings, egg rol. . . .”
“I get the picture.” Angel interrupted, staring with disapproval.
“Hey, since the temporary truce, it was the first time I had a chance to get some good take-away.”
Angel could only shake his head and sigh with resignation. His Childe’s eating habits were deplorable. “Nic, go bring the healer, while I give Faith a call to. . . .”
“There’s no need to get the healer.” Spike interrupted. “I’m okay. Ready and able to go to San Diego.”
“Really?” Angel wasn’t fooled at all by Spike’s put-on bravado. “Because Nic tells me that you seemed less than enthused about going tonight.”
“Bloody, big trap.” Spike could be heard to murmur, as Angel continued speaking. “If you don’t wish to go, you don’t have to.” He eyed Spike contemplatively, remembering the smell of fear his Childe wore three nights ago in San Diego.
“No.” Spike said firmly. “I’ll go. I know how imperative it is to keep the Slayers’ good will, and since Faith semi likes and trusts me, I am the one who must go.”
“Maybe. . . ,” Angel considered all options. “I should go with you.” An impossible option, but one that he secretly wished was available to him. He knew the reason for his Childe’s reluctance, the young Slayer named Dana. Parental instinct warred with his sense of responsibility.
“Oh, and miss the big summit with the Tzmisces?” Spike said scornfully. “Then we could all kiss the chance of ending this war good-bye. Even I’m not so thick to think, you, of all people, can miss that meeting.”
“Alright.” Angel had known all along that the idea of him accompanying his Childe to San Diego was out of the question. “Well, how about if Nic goes with you?”
“Hey, no problem here.” Nic raised a hand in the air. “But Faith the Slayer might say otherwise. Back in Sunnydale, she and I didn’t exactly hit it off.”
“Well, if you would have just given her the bloody cigarette. . .git.” Spike barked at Nic, remembering clearly the incident in Sunnydale between Faith and his uncle. It had happened three years ago, when they, allied with Buffy and company, had been fighting the First Evil and its minions.
“It was my last one, and the world was ending.” Nic snapped back.
“Enough!” Angel’s voice raised a notch. “That’s ancient history, and when Faith was here, she didn’t seem to be holding any kind of gru. . . .” He broke off, as a thought occurred to him. “No, a better solution would be if,” he turned to his oldest son, “Djoser escorts you to San Diego. I don’t believe there’s any kind of problem between him and the Slayers. ”
“Right then.” Spike grinned, as jumped up off the couch, fake stomach ache forgotten. He liked the idea of Djoser accompanying him. Since his brother had become the Successor, they rarely did anything together.
“Faith and I have very little contact in Sunnydale, and I never met Dana.” Djoser said, as he looked at Angel questioningly. “But isn’t my presence required tonight with the Tzmisces?”
“Take a night off.” Angel touched Djoser’s arm lightly, as he turned to leave. “Trust me; there will be plenty of future meetings that you’ll be required to attend. Tonight Nic can sit in for you.”
“What?” Angel’s decision had left Nic with his mouth hanging open. “I have to go?” He shouted the question at an exiting Angel. “Fucking hell! You know, it wasn’t that big of a disagreement I had with Faith.”
**
January 2004
The police band radio that was basic equipment in all of their cars tipped them to check out a small supermarket, not far from Los Angeles County hospital. In all the chaos, as the police and paramedics rushed around, Spike and Eamon could survey the scene unobserved. Dipping his fingers in some blood on the pavement, Spike raised them to his nose.
“Shouldn’t be hard to follow its trail.” Spike grinned triumphantly at his cousin. “By the time our Sires figure out where we’ve gone, we’ll be back with demon-possessed-girl in custody.”
**
After poking his head out of his office and checking the hallway, Nic stepped out carefully. It was never an easy task, sneaking out without anyone in his family or one of Angelus’ pet humans tattling on him. Five steps and he was at the end of the hallway and close to his goal, an exit. Rounding the corner, he was just about home free, when he heard his name called.
“Nic.”
“Damn!” He swore softly out loud, as he pushed down the urge to take off in a run.
“Angelus wants us both in his office, *now*.”
Exhaling in frustration, Nic turned slowly around to face his brother Damon.
“Going out for a walk?” Damon asked, eyebrows raised and innocent smirk on his face.
“Fuck you.” Nic growled grouchily. He was quite aware that Damon knew exactly what he had been trying to do.
“If you put as much energy in doing something worthwhile, as you did in trying to avoid doing anything worthwhile, the Senior Partners might consider making you CEO.”
“Yeah, like that’s one of my ambitions in unlife.” Nic muttered, tone and demeanor still crabby. He knew his plans for the rest of the day were dust.
“By the way,” Damon asked, “are my Childe and William the Terror lying unconscious in your office?”
“Huh?” Nic grunted out. “Haven’t seen those two all day, and that was partially why I was trying to sneak out, so I could continue to *not* see those two.”
“They didn’t stop by your office?” Damon paused in his step to look Nic full in the face. Seeing his brother shake his head in the negative, he resumed walking, now at a faster pace. “Goddamn them!”
**
The blood scent led them to an abandoned warehouse in an older section of LA.
“She’s around here somewhere.” Spike said to Eamon, as the two vampires sniffed and surveyed their surroundings. “You check the outside, and I’ll,” he nodded at the warehouse, “check the inside.”
**
“Goddamn them!” Angel repeated the same expletive that his brother had exclaimed. “Do we have any idea where they went?”
“Fortunately all our cars were equipped with a tracking device after William. . .ahem,” Damon paused to clear his throat, “had that unfortunate incident. It appears that they’re in the old industrial section.”
“What the hell would they be doing there?” Angel came from around his desk, coat in hand. “Would have thought they would be in the red light district. Anyway,” he turned to Nic, “go to Los Angeles County’s psychiatric ward and find out all you can about the patient, who just escaped. Call me when you know anything.” Shrugging on his duster, he headed for the door, Damon at his side. “Let’s go bring back our Childer.”
**
Reaching the top floor, the scent Spike was tracking grew stronger. A human smell of sweat, fear, and great anger. Spying the slim form with long, dark hair, he called out.
“Likin' the view, are we?” He moved closer. “What say we have a nice, quiet chat about mistreating little girls.” His visage changed. “Demon to demon.”
Dana turned in confusion. She had no idea why this strange man had followed her into the warehouse, but seeing his vampire side, she could only grin. It was finally time; she could fight the demon.
Take aback at Dana’s happy smile, Spike frowned in bafflement. “What are you grinning at?” The question had barely come out of his mouth, when Dana attacked, swinging a bone saw wildly.
Dancing easily away from the swings, Spike began to taunt. “Oh, yeah, look at the big, bad demon hiding inside the helpless little girl.” One precise kick and he had disarmed the young woman. Grabbing Dana by the back of the shirt, he threw her into a pile of debris. “Why don't you come on out of there, and let's have a proper go, mate?” He goaded.
Picking up a splinter of wood, Dana pushed herself to her feet. Raising the wood fragment, her dark eyes stared mercilessly at Spike. Her intent was obvious, to kill.
Realizing that perhaps he had underestimated his opponent, Spike finally sensed the danger, as he stared at the ready made stake in Dana’s hand. “Or you could do that.”
**
“I saw a couple of videotapes of her. She was speaking half-dozen languages. One of them was Romanian.”
“And?” Angel asked, as he sped along the streets of LA while listening to his brother Nic on the car’s speaker phone.
“She was yelling about being chosen. She's not a demon. She's a vampire slayer.”
Angel couldn’t help but stiffen in astonishment as he exchanged an astounded look with Damon. “Are you sure?”
“Sure as shit.” Nic lowered his voice as a couple of orderlies passed him in the hospital hallway. “In her room were hundreds of drawings with demons fighting little *girls*. Each girl was depicted differently, so they weren’t drawings of herself; they were drawings of other slayers.”
“Good work.” Angel shouted. He inevitably yelled whenever he was on the speaker phone, not knowing that he could be heard if he spoke in a normal tone.
“Well, better find tweedle dee and tweedle dum quickly because Ms. Psycho Slayer is liable to really wig out if she sees one of us, the vampiric demons, who have been haunting her visions and nightmares.”
“Understood.” Angel exchanged another long look with Damon, as he hit the off button of the speaker phone. “We could have a problem.”
**
Holding back the hand that was trying to drive a stake through his heart, Spike cocked his head at the words the possessed girl was growling at him. He recognized the language if not the words. “Sorry, love. I don't speak Chinese.” He quipped, as he punched Dana in the face, and then gave her a kick to the body.
The two combatants traded a few more punches and kicks, before Dana was able to grab a hold of Spike and heave him out a window. It was a long fall, as the warehouse was several stories high. Hitting the pavement face first, Spike felt like his nose had been pushed through the back of his head. Too shocked the normal cuss words didn’t fall from his lips, as all he could manage was a, “umph.”
There was a screech of tires and then Spike heard the voice of his Sire. “William!” Shaking his head, his scrambled brain tried to remember where he was, and who he was.
“William.” Angel repeated, as he gently lifted Spike off the ground. “What happened?”
“Oh, I just thought I'd see what it was like to bounce off the pavement.” Spike was sure he could feel his brain sloshing around his head. “Pretty much what I expected.”
“William.” Angel growled menacingly. “What’s going on?”
“Regan MacNeil just got the better of me.” Spike mumbled with humiliation.
“And when exactly did I give you permission to track down this girl, boy.” Pulling Spike to his feet, Angel was torn between wanting to give his Childe a hug or throttle him
“Didn’t think it would be any big deal.” Spike gingerly felt his face, checking to see if it was still intact. “And I did find out something.” He quickly added, hoping that the information would mitigate some of Angel’s anger. “The demon we’re dealing with: it's a Chinese demon. Maybe a water dragon or one of those elemental thingies. Wot?” He asked, as Angel did an eye roll.
Not bothering to answer, Angel guided Spike to the car, while calling out to Damon, who had just returned, his Childe in tow. “Let’s go. You drive.”
“Wait a minute.” Spike protested. “The little girl’s up there.” He pointed to the top of the warehouse. “You can just go and get her.”
“Tactical's on the way.” Angel said shortly, as he opened the car door and gave Spike a push.
Ignoring the push, Spike continued to protest. “Tactical? It’s just a girl. . .well, err, a girl who has enhanced strength and fighting skills because of the demon inside her, but still. . . .”
“She’s a slayer.” Angel interrupted, as he gave Spike another push toward the interior of the car. “A slayer who’s psychotic and dangerous.”
**
January 2006
“Wow!” Faith opened the door to see the vampire brothers standing on her front porch. “Angel sent two of his big guns to help me, so what’s the catch?” Although she said this in a light tone, Faith was not stupid. With Angel sending his two precious sons, it probably meant a big favor in return.
“That you help us defeat those Tzmisces toss bags.” Spike gave Faith a blunt, but truthful answer. He knew her well enough to know that she respected straightforwardness.
“Who are you?” Dana and Matt had come with Faith to greet their guests, and the young Slayer was staring at Djoser with fascination.
“Where *are* my manners?” Faith stepped back from the door. “Come on in guys. Dana, Matt,” she turned briefly to her colleagues, “you already met Spike, and this is Djoser. He too is Angel’s. . . .”
“Angel’s oldest Blood-Childe.” Matt broke in, eager to share all his newly acquired knowledge. “His mother was an Egyptian princess, and he was. . . .”
“Djoser already knows all about himself.” Faith interrupted the overenthusiastic young man. “Need weapons?” She redirected the conversation, as she pointed to an array of stakes, crossbows, and swords.
“We brought our own.” Djoser said shortly. He was anxious to have the night over with. “So what’s the plan?”
Pointing again to the weapons, Faith gave a silent command to Matt and Dana. “We know the location of a fairly big lair in the older section of town. I want to hit it first, but. . .I would like to keep one of them alive long enough to interrogate. It would be nice to find out where the other lairs are. So kill, but have restraint, and it would be nice if we could figure out who the leader is and question him. He would know the most.”
“Right then.” Spike put a cigarette in his mouth, as he glanced warily at Dana, who was still gawking at his brother. “We set, cause the night ain’t getting any younger.”
“You don’t look like brothers.” Dana observed as she followed them closely out the door. Her eyes still hadn’t left Djoser.
“Dana.” Faith said warningly. The last thing she wanted was to have to break up a fight between her young protégé and the Tremeren Clan’s Successor.
“What?” Dana wondered what she had said or did wrong this time. “I didn’t insult them. I just commented that they don’t look anything like each other.”
“Dana.” Faith didn’t like her young colleague’s intense interest in Djoser. “Go ride up front with Matt.”
“But don’t. . . ?” Dana began to protest.
“*Now*!” Faith brought the argument to an end. She was the one, who usually rode shotgun, but it this case her instinct told her it was better to keep Dana away from the vampires.
Spike said a silent thank you to the gods, as he slid into the back seat of the SUV. The last person he wanted to sit next to was psycho Slayer.
“They had different mothers.” Matt whispered to Dana, who was climbing into the front seat.
“And my mother was not a princess.” Djoser slammed the car door shut; he wanted to set the record straight. “She was a descendant of the Egyptian Gods.”
No one spoke for a few moments, as Matt started up the car and backed out of the driveway.
“Isn’t that what a princess is?” Dana couldn’t help but ask.
**
January 2004
Lying on the couch in Angel’s office, Spike held an ice bag to his face. It was a good prop to hide behind, so no one could see his embarrassment. He had been bested by a slip of a girl. Granted she had slayer strength and speed but with no formal training or experience he should have taken her down with little effort.
“Spike.” The smell of a human entered the room.
Lifting his head, Spike peeked around the ice bag. “Andrew? Bloody hell. What are you doing here in LA?”
“Rupert Giles sent me.” Andrew said proudly, as he sat down on the arm of the couch. “He’s been training me. I'm faster, stronger, and 82% more manly than the last time we met.”
“Ri-ght.” Spike held the ice bag in place, as his head dropped back down.
“So.” Andrew crossed one leg over the other. “How have you been?”
“Humiliated.” Spike answered in a clipped tone. “She took me out like the big nancy boy I am.”
“I heard. It must just not be your day today.” Andrew said consolingly. “Well, how about. . . ?” He put a hand alongside of his head, pretending to think hard. “If you come with me and redeem yourself.”
“Whaddya mean?” Spike lifted his head again.
“Help me track her.”
“Isn’t that what my Sire, the hotshot around here, is supposed to do?”
“They’re sitting around the corporate table, planning their every step.” Andrew said, as he pulled a juice box out of his briefcase. “But me, I want to be where the action is, on the mean streets. Want to join me?”
“I’m already in deep shit with King Angel.”
“Oh, come on.” Andrew beseeched. “You sure you don’t want to play with me.” He picked up and opened his briefcase, displaying a variety of handguns and weapons.
**
“Xander's in Africa. He sent me an mbuna fish.” Walking along the docks, which bordered the industrial district, Andrew was catching Spike up with what the Scoobies were up to. “Willow and Kennedy are in Brazil. They're based in Sao Paulo, but, um, every time I talk to them, they're in Rio.”
Sniffing the air, Spike was trying to catch a whiff of Dana.
“Trying to catch a scent of blood?” Andrew asked his excitement mounting. “Which. . .by the way, what does blood smell like?”
“Uh. . . .” Spike had to think a minute. “Metallic, sorta. You ever taste a penny?”
“No. . .wait,” Andrew considered, “no.”
“Smells like that.”
Spotting a penny on the ground, Andrew stopped to pick it up and then did a fast trot to catch up with Spike, who hadn’t noticed what he had done. “So, have you heard from Buffy lately?” Spike asked.
“Of course. She lives in Rome now. Dawn's in school there. Italian school., and.” Andrew paused to see what the penny tasted like. Putting it in his mouth, he immediately spit it out with disgust. “Buffy had been rounding up slayers in Europe and decided she really liked it there. I think she’s just happy to get away from California for a. . . .” He stopped talking, as Spike stopped in his tracks and surveyed his surroundings. “What’s wrong?”
“I smell blood. A very strong odor of blood.”
“Like nickels?” Andrew asked, as Spike broke into a run.
Following the blood scent, Spike rounded the corner into any alley with Andrew at his heels.
“Dead end.” Andrew said as both he and Spike skidded to a stop.
“There’s blood on that wall.” Spike pointed at the end of the alley. “And I think it’s. . . .”
Dana caught them by surprise, as she suddenly appeared behind Andrew. It only took one punch to knock him to the ground. Staring at Spike, she recognized her prey. It was time to lure him into her trap.
**
Clawing his way to consciousness, Spike tried to focus his eyes, but everything was fuzzy. Memories flashed through his mind like a slide show: the fight with Dana, a hypo she plunged into his neck, a basement with chains and the smell of molasses, another hypo, and the strange young woman’s babble. Vision clearing somewhat, he made out Dana standing in front of him.
“Piece by piece.” She recited in her monotone voice.
“Bloody well release me.” Spike could feel the heavy chain around his neck and chest.
“Shh!” Dana said. “Stay quiet, and I'll let you go.”
“You're homicidal.” Spike felt like he was on a merry-go-round which just went out of control. His stomach churned, and he felt the urge to vomit. “What did you do to me?”
Dana held up an ominous looking bone saw. “Losing all your pieces. Not weak. Can't touch me anymore.”
Lifting his arms, it was then that Spike saw his bloody stumps. Dana had cut off both his hands at the forearms. Horrified, he heard screams. He realized that they were his, but wasn’t sure if they were coming out of his mouth or were just in his head.
**
Standing in front of a map of LA, Angel watched as Gunn pushed another pin into it. “Tactical found the body here on Fourth and Camden. Your brothers,” Gunn looked sideway at Angel, “are doing a good job tracking this girl.”
“It’s a vampire thing.” Angel stated simply, shrugging. It was a given that his brothers were good. “It looks like Dana is staying in the area then. Let's get. . . .” He broke off, as a bruised and bloody Andrew came flying through his office door.
“We were attacked, and I think she got him. She’s got Spike.”
**
“Listen, love.” Spike tried to scoot back, wanting to put more distance between him and the psychotic young woman, but chains and a body that felt like it was made of wet straw prevented any movement. “I never touched you. I never hurt you. It wasn't me. I've done my share of bad, but you're not one of them. It was someone else.”
Dana’s answer was to punch him hard in the face and then babble in Chinese.
Spike had faced fear more times than one could count in his existence, but the young Dana was the first to cause him such a desperate fear that he began hyperventilating. “Your visions are mixing. . .mixing with your real memories. Other slayers, other places. New York, China. . . .”
Another punch to the face cut him off.
“Stop. Stop. You got it wrong. Your brain's all jumbled. You've got me confused with another man.” He managed to gasp out.
“You murdered them both.” Dana referred to the two Slayers Spike had fought and killed. Holding up the bone saw, she chanted. “Head and heart. Keep cutting till you see dust.”
“Please!” Spike’s eyes grew wide, as he realized what the young woman was about to do, cut him up piece by piece. “I never hurt you. It wasn’t. . . .”
A tall figure came flying down the stairs, interrupting Spike’s pleas and stopping Dana from doing anymore damage. Grabbing the young woman, Angel threw her across the room.
“Dana.” Angel held up a hand, trying to stall for time; he knew backup would be arriving soon. After Andrew had told them the news, he had jumped into his fastest car and took off without waiting for anyone else. It wasn‘t the smartest move, but he didn’t know how to wait, knowing his William had been taken capture.
“I'm here to help you. The man who tried to hurt you; his name is Walter Kindel. He tried to rob a liquor store five years ago, and the police shot him. He’s. Dead. Dana.”
“Hold still.” Dana jabbered. “Can't hurt me. Not weak anymore.”
“That's right.” Angel risked a quick glance at Spike and visibly blanched.
“Strong slayer.” Dana said right before she charged, kicking Angel in the chest.
Battling Dana for what seemed like hours, but in reality was mere minutes, Angel hoped to knock her out, but he was unpleasantly surprised by her strength and fighting ability. The sound of help arriving urged him on, as he finally managed to grab Dana around the neck and turn her toward the stairway. “Now!” He shouted, as he had heard the stomping footsteps of backup arriving armed with tranquilizer guns.
Three darts hit Dana in the chest. As she began passing out, Angel dropped her to the floor and ran to Spike, while shouting, “Get the med team down here. Now! William.” He knelt down by his Childe. “William, Childe, I’m here.”
“Si. . . .” Spike tried to speak, but his heavy breathing prevented any speech from coming out.
“Don’t speak.” Angel was frantically trying to break the chain that held Spike shackled. “Look for a key, or get me a bolt cutter.” He turned his head to shout at anyone who would listen, when Damon stepped up to his side.
A tightening of the lips was all that showed on Damon’s face as his eyes swept over his nephew. “I’ll find a bolt cutter.” He said immediately and then took off.
Spike’s gasps for air turned to coughing, as he began to flail his stumps around.
“William!” Angel commanded with authority, as he grabbed his sons by the shoulders. “It’s over. Calm yourself.”
Years of obeying, especially when his Sire spoke in such an authoritarian tone, had Spike immediately attempting to slow his breathing. “Sire.” He finally was able to speak. “My hands! Where are my hands?”
Out of the corner of his eyes Angel could see the medical team placing his Childe’s dismembered hands in a medical transporter cooler. “We’ve got your hands, don’t worry.” Holding Spike’s head against his chest, he pressed his lips on top of his son’s head. “Your Sire is here now, Childe. Your Sire is here.”
**
January 2006
“Good show, people.” Faith praised the team, as Matt pulled into their driveway. “Mission accomplished, and you guys,” she addressed Djoser and Spike, as she hopped out of the SUV, “have your prisoner.”
The mission had gone perfectly. They had taken out the one lair, identified the leader, and then beat the information they wanted out of him. Afterward Djoser had requested that the prisoner be given to him to take to LA. He was sure that Judelin would also like the chance to talk to the vampire, find out what the survivors of the Toredor Clan were up to.
“Right then.” Spike gave a nod to the three humans. Despite the fact that everything had gone smoothly, he was anxious to leave. Dana still creeped him out. “Mission successful, so we’ll just be moseying along.”
“What’s your hurry?” Faith asked with surprise. “It’s early, and I was hoping to bum a couple of cigarettes from you.”
Exchanging a look with Djoser, Spike gave his brother a silent signal. He wasn’t about to make the same faux pas that Nic made three years ago. “Right.” He took a step toward Faith, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
“Wanna beer?” Cigarette in mouth, Faith leaned down toward the lit match that Spike held for her.
“Why not?” Spike glanced again at Djoser, who shrugged slightly. It seemed they were bound to be sociable for a bit.
“Matt.” Faith yelled out. “Grab some beer from the fridge.”
“I’ll transfer the prisoner.” Djoser opened the back hatch of the SUV. They’d have a quick beer and then politely take their leave. Pulling the tied up and unconscious vampire toward him, his plan was to heave the prisoner over his shoulder, but two other hands quickly reached in and grabbed the legs.
“Let me help you.” It was Dana, who had taken the first opportunity to have a moment alone with Djoser. “I’ve never seen anyone like you.” She said, as the two lifted the unconscious vampire out of the car.
Not sure how to answer, Djoser said nothing, just gave Dana a slight nod of the head.
“I like you, vampire.” Dana continued, as the two deposited the body into the trunk of their car. “We should go out on a date.”
Her words took Djoser so by surprise that he lost track of what he was doing and ended up cracking his elbow on the edge of the trunk. “Damn!” He swore softly. Holding his elbow, he looked at Dana carefully. He didn’t like or trust her, but he knew how dangerous she was. It would be prudent not to offend her outright.
“I’m a vampire, and you’re a Slayer. I don’t think your superiors would be happy if you went on a date with. . . .”
“Like any of them could say anything.” Dana scoffed. “Buffy had a thing with your Sire and is now seeing some immortal guy. And Faith has had her share of demon lovers. I could help you, vampire.”
“Help me?” Djoser was suddenly intrigued. “And how could you. . . ?”
“Ready to go?” Spike walked up, beer in hand, interrupting the tete a tete. “What?” He saw the look of frustration on Djoser’s face and misinterpreted it to be anger at him. “This is only my second, err third,” he held up the beer can, “ok, my fourth, but we did what we came here to do; we’re going home, and I’m not driving.”
The moment had passed; Faith was now in ear shot, so Dana turned and started for the house.
“What?” Spike still couldn’t figure out why his brother was so annoyed.
“Just get in the car.” Djoser ordered, marveling at Spike’s bad timing. “I’ll tell you on the way home.”
**
Epilogue
“Bloody. . .ow!” Spike yelped. He had taken his requisite shower and was now sitting on the bed with Angel behind him.
“I haven’t touched you yet.” Angel waved around the hairbrush he had in his right hand.
“Well, it bloody well hurt.” Spike grouched, as he hunched down. It was a frequent, but not regular event that after a shower his Sire liked to comb his hair. “And I can bloody well do my own hair.” He ran a hand through his short, wet curls.
“I’ve seen how you do it. Two head shakes and a comb-through with your fingers. Now *sit still*.” Angel’s voice raised a notch as Spike squirmed.
“My hair’s short.” Spike continued his complaining. “Two shakes and pat with the fingers is all it needs.”
“You should grow it out more.” Angel said, as he persistently pulled the brush through his Childe’s hair. “And stop bleaching it! Your natural color is much more attractive than this awful platinum blond you have it.”
Spike rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. His Sire was in one of those moods. “I like my hair this color and aren’t we done?” He scooted to the end of the bed, out of Angel’s reach.
“You like your hair green?” Djoser exited the bathroom, damp from his shower. “Because all that bleach is giving your hair a green tinge to it.”
“Shut up!” Spike snapped at his brother with a scowl. “Did I ask for your two cents? Like you know anything about looking good.”
“He must know something.” Angel set the hair brush down on the nightstand, and settled himself back on the pillows. “Since *Dana* asked him for a date.”
“Oh, Miss Nut Job?” Spike wasn’t impressed. “And you can’t seriously be considering allowing him to go on a social outing with her?”
“She offered help.” Angel stated. “I would like to know what kind of help she meant.”
“Probably wants to give us lessons on how to dismember someone, someone, who is still *living*.” Spike emphasized the word living. He hated to admit that Dana still scared him.
**
January 2004
Waking up slowly in the hospital wing of Wolfram & Hart, the first conscious thought Spike had was tremendous pain. As memories flowed through his head, he couldn’t help but sit up abruptly, desperately checking his arms. Both hands were now back in place, but neither could move, not even a twitch of the finger. Opening his mouth, he tried to yell, but a lump in his throat prevented him.
“William, Childe.” The door opened as Angel stepped in. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
Shaking his head in the affirmative, Spike would have held out his arms to his Sire, unfortunately he couldn’t move them.
Sitting by the side of the bed, Angel bit his tongue, as he tenderly took one of Spike’s arms in his hands. Pushing the bandage aside, he lifted it to his mouth, and began to lick the stitches with his bloodied tongue.
Lying back, Spike closed his eyes, feeling Sire’s blood soothe his pain. Clearing his throat a couple of times, he found his voice. “I can’t move my hands, Father.”
“Give it time.” Angel placed the bandage back. “Your motor skills will come back little by little. In fact,” he gave Spike a small smile, “they tell me that as part of your physical therapy, you’ll be required to play those video games you’re so fond of.”
Spike gave a nod of acknowledgement but said nothing more.
Taking his Childe’s other arm, Angel gave him a worried look. He had expected his son to start demanding a new video game system, a television, and sound system, to aid in his therapy, but there was nothing but silence. “It’s okay.” He reassured, not knowing what else to say. “Your Sire is here now, Childe.”
**
January 2006
“Did she threaten you in any way?” Angel could again smell Spike’s terror.
“Naw.” Spike shook his head, as he crawled up, to lie beside his Sire. “But two years ago, that slip of a girl scared me shitless.”
“I would never allow her to hurt you again.” Angel said reassuringly, as Spike curled up alongside him, head nestled in the crook of his arm.
“I know, but she’s creeps me out. When I see her, all I feel is fear and shame.”
“Shame?” Djoser plopped down on the foot of the bed.
“She thought I was the bogeyman, who had killed her family and tortured her. She was all mixed up in the head, wanted me to pay for my crimes against her and her family.”
“And how is that your fault? You weren’t responsible for her being crazy.” Angel slid his hand up and down Spike’s ribcage in a comforting rhythm.
“No, but how was I supposed to complain, just because hers wasn't one of the hundreds of families I did kill?” Spike paused, as he studied the faces of his Sire and brother. He just admitted a guilty secret he had carried for two years.
“Dana wasn’t your doing.” Angel said firmly. “And you did and have paid with pain and fear.”
“Right.” Spike wasn’t convinced. “Anyway. . . .” He decided to change the subject. How could he expect Angel to understand? “If you’re really planning to date Psycho Slayer,” he addressed Djoser, “better take a chaperone, maybe Nic and his .50 caliber handgun.”
****
Finis