pairings: will become Spike/Willow, William/Tara
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
distribution: Bite Me, WLS, WWW, Cat, Red SoulMates, yourmission, Feen, - anyone else please ask.
Time: set in soon to be very AU season 5.
Author's Note: response to Fayth's Alterna Spike Challenge: It must include a Spike that isn't our Spike. This could be in the form of Robot- Spike, Shapeshifting Spike, Demon-Spike, Human-Spike, Timetravelling Spike, or Different Dimension Spike.etc etc etc. Whoever must come to Sunnydale and find our Wills and wackiness ensues especially when the other Spike finds out. Set when you want, how you want whatever you want. Smut or fluff, you decide.
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~Part: 1~
Spike gritted his teeth, feeling frustrated, and bored. He hated this chip, hated it with a burning intensity, and hated the miserable Initiative that had put it in his head. But what could he do about it? Nothing. Even more frustrating was it's effects - he couldn't act violently against any human, couldn't even think particularly graphic violent scenes. He'd been starving... and discovered that he couldn't even feed on the miserable rats scurrying around in the allies. The real ones, that is. It was just to cruel and wretched.
So, he'd gone to the Slayer. He'd hoped for answers, for an explanation and a cure. Turned out that the Slayer's then current boy-toy was one of those soldiers that had captured him. They'd put a chip in his head, the cause of all his misery. More frustrating, the Initiative didn't plan to remove it - ever. And he couldn't do anything about it because they were all human.
The only person who seemed to have even the faintest bit of interest in helping him was Willow. But she was trying to figure out exactly how the chip worked, and what might disrupt it's functioning, or if it would be possible to remove it. He had no idea why the person that he'd threatened more than anyone but the Slayer would be willing to even consider helping him, but she was making the effort.
Of course, her efforts kept getting preempted by the need to research the latest demon, the latest crisis. And she'd fallen miserably sick twice, so sick that she'd done little more than huddle in her bed, miserable and mostly asleep. He'd been the only person to stop by. Although the second time was after she'd started spending so much time with that other witch, and Tara had been by briefly, but only once.
He wondered exactly what the deal was with those two. The Slayer seemed to think that they were an item, and so did Xander, but... Spike didn't think so. Their actions weren't quite right, and they never smelled of each other and sex. So, for some reason, they wanted everyone to assume that they were a couple.
He'd even blackmailed that hopeless geek that had built a robot for a girlfriend into building him a Buffy-bot. Something with the face of the most annoying person, someone that he could hit, that he could vent his frustrations on. All of his frustrations. Ironically, the stupid robot was just as effective at patrolling as the real one. He'd had a program put in where she would go forth patrolling, killing the idiots dumb enough to attack, and then he would find her, they would fight, and maybe... Well, it helped a little.
If he'd had any idea how much trouble that stupid robot would get him into, he'd have never had the damn thing built.
Apparently, one of Glory's minions had seen him and the bot. They'd mistaken the Buffy-bot for the real Slayer, and somehow, either on their own or under their mistresses orders, he'd been captured. Again. He'd been able to fight her minions, and he'd tried, but they had swarmed him, hordes of them that had eventually just dragged him down by sheer numbers.
He'd been taken to a warehouse, and chained between a pair of posts, wrists and ankles both chained, pulling him into an awkward position calculated to make him vulnerable, to inspire feeling of helplessness. It was working.
"Well, vampire. It seems that you've got the Slayer twisted around your finger. Want to tell me how?" The voice sounded a bit petulant, arrogant and demanding. The speaker was a woman, blond curls spiraling down her back, a short red dress barely covering her. She radiated power and menace unlike anything he'd ever encountered, even more than Acathala.
He felt something inside of him wanting to curl up and hide. He tried to squash the impulse. "I'm not telling you anything."
She didn't like his defiance.
Any shred of doubt about her annoyance were soon erased as she had him whipped until his back was a sticky screaming mass of pain, strips of skin hanging, bone and muscle exposed to the damp air. The whole time, she demanded answers, her voice cooing that the pain would stop if he would just tell her how to get her key back.
When she reached into his chest, her red-painted nails scraping over his heart, he could do no more than scream, part of him wishing desperately that he could tell her something, anything to make the pain stop. But he didn't know about this key. Most of his, forged by his early years at the non-mercy of Angelus and Darla, honed by almost a century with Dru, polished by this chip, refused to give in, to allow her mastery over him. He'd rather die.
It felt like that was what would happen to him. He would be beaten, ripped into, tortured to death in an effort to gain information that he didn't have. He couldn't even scream anymore. He'd tried not to even give her that much satisfaction, but the pain had grown too intense. It had been when she'd poured something over his back, something that had burned worse than holy water over his spine and muscles, sending him into near convulsions that the screams had come, continuing until his throat was too raw for even a squeak.
In the end, she pouted at him, one blood covered hand resting on her chin as she looked at him. "This, entertaining as it is, gains me nothing. He's not breaking from the torture. Something else would be needed for this to work... It would be so much easier if I could just reach in and take the information, but that doesn't work on vampires."
She paced, her little skirt riding up, showing an expanse of pale thigh. "How to crack his shady mind open? It's not like I can just... but I can, can't I? I am Glorificus, terror of seven dimensions. I can get him."
With a sharp gesture towards him, she issued her orders. "Take him away and leave him. I have a new plan."
It hurt too much to do more than a pitiful whimper as he was dumped out of a van, rolling across a lawn, stopping when he connected to a hedge, offering a tiny thanks to whatever was responsible for that near mercy. Everything went black as he was wondering what time it was, and if he would even be awake for the fatal sunrise.
~Part: 2~
Willow had gone to her parent's house for the weekend, driven out by the repainting that was going on in the dorms. The dorms weren't closed, but apparently she was allergic to the fumes, because they were making her terribly ill. Her head hurt, and her stomach twisted, churning and heaving. She couldn't eat, the idea of food making her stomach feel even worse. And she was a bit worried about Spike.
Not that she'd be able to tell anyone about that. Who could she mention it to that wouldn't freak out? Well... maybe Dawn, but... no, that didn't seem right. Dawn had enough stress being fourteen and having Buffy for a sister. She didn't need all of the 'what if's that Willow could envision happening to Spike. No, she would have to suffer in silence.
Something - she wasn't certain what it was, but something woke her up. Had it been a noise? A disturbance in the force? It didn't matter what had woke her, she could feel... someone was in terrible pain outside. Someone that she knew...
Pulling on a pair of sweat pants under her nightshirt, she slipped down the stairs, grabbing a short sword from the umbrella stand on the way out the door. Opening the door, she looked around, seeing nothing. Carefully, she crept along the sidewalk, alert, twitchy-nervous as she looked for the presence.
The sword almost fell out of her hand when she saw Spike. She only recognized him because of his hair, because she'd certainly never seen him like this before. Never seen his back raw and bloody, hints of vertebra and ribs showing, strips of skin hanging down into the grass, the one wrist that she could see raw and bloody, fluids oozing from abused flesh. He was laying almost under the hedge, his feet bare, his body abused, no - tortured.
She made an incoherent noise, darting forward to kneel beside him, looking over his injuries in dismayed horror. How had he... surely he was only still here because he was a vampire? She couldn't just leave him here. But how to get him inside without making the pain worse?
In the end, she levitated him, using her magic to lift him up, floating him along the sidewalk, the little bloody bits of grass and leaves falling like gory breadcrumbs to mark his path... She had to whisper an invitation, relieved that he didn't need to be awake for it to work.
Willow took him into the basement, the only place that she could think of where he wouldn't have to worry about sunlight. She kept him floating, turning him over slowly, looking at his injuries. His back had been... shredded, his wrists and ankles were raw, the skin rubbed and torn away as if by some sort of shackles, and there were horrible deep puncture looking wounds on his chest, wounds that looked as if they were infected.
Her vision blurred for a moment with tears. She'd been right to worry. Apparently, he'd been abducted, tortured by someone, something. She had to help him.
Carefully, she began using her magic to remove all of the bits of leaves and grass and shrub needles from his mangled back. She used a damp cloth, slightly warm, to try to wipe away the blood, had bandaged his wrists and ankles as gently as she could. But her power had limits, and in the end, she'd had to lower him onto an old mattress, carefully face down to spare his back. Spike would need blood to heal from this - a lot of blood.
It was well after sunrise now, and she could think of only one place to get Spike the blood that he would need - Willie's. A glimpse of her reflection brought her up short - appalled at the sight of a pale figure streaked with blood. She darted towards the shower, her stomach heaving at the sight of her reflection. She looked half dead herself...
By the time she'd emerged from her near scalding shower, her skin felt almost raw from frantic scrubbing, and Willow felt clean again. She put on simple clothing, a pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt and went towards Willie's. He would be there... and if he wasn't? Well... Spike needed blood, she would have to come up with a plan B if Willie wasn't there.
Fortunately, there was somebody moving inside Willie's Alibi, and she knocked on the door. The only response was a muffled voice that might have been 'go away'.
A push of magic and the door rattled, made a series of clicks, and flung itself open, allowing her to walk into the little bar. She saw Willie, standing near his bar with a look of unwelcome surprise on his face. "Hello, Willie. I need blood. Human."
He'd started backing away, babbling nervously about being unsuitable for any sort of ritual, and probably bad tasting and... It was clear that hew as afraid of Willow for some reason.
"It's not for a spell. I have a hungry vampire at my house, and I was getting carry out. I didn't intend for you to be the carry out. Now, are you going to offer to sell me some human blood - fresh mind you, or..." She let her voice trail off, still trying to devise plan B.
Willie practically sprinted for his back room, emerging with a cooler full of red cross packets. He was pale, and shaky, and stammered something about being sure that they could come to a reasonable price...
Willow pulled two hundred dollars from her wallet, dropping it on the counter as she used a bit of power to pull the cooler towards her, catching it. "Thanks, Willie."
Making her way back home, she wondered how to get a sleeping vampire to drink the blood. Especially since she was fairly sure that she was out of magic.
~Part: 3~
In the end, it had been a somewhat messy, and rather painful experience. She'd had to roll him over onto his back, which had caused him to wake up screaming, a growl rumbling in his chest, teeth sharp, his eyes amber and bloodshot. He'd looked around without apparent comprehension for a few moments, before looking at her in puzzlement.
"Will..." His voice was a raspy whisper. His eyes were still amber, and he looked so confused.
"I'm sorry... but I had to turn you over. I got you some blood. Of course, since you're awake, that makes the whole thing a lot easier..." Willow felt relieved. He was awake, he could get better. She pulled the cooler over, opening it and lifting out the first bag. "I picked up some blood from Willie's."
His hand was shaking as he reached for it. Grabbing it, he pulled it close, wincing as the movement pulled against his back. He bit into the package, not even bothering to ask if it could be heated, or put into a mug, or... anything. He just sucked it down, like a straw-less Capri-Sun.
"I got more. You looked... Spike, you're in bad shape. Which I'm sure you already know, and I want to help you. Probably silly of me, considering the number of times you said you'd kill all of us when the chip was out, but you need help." She was babbling. God, when would she get over that embarrassing tendency?
Spike drank more of the packets, his hand shaking a bit less, the injuries starting to heal. At least, the ones on his wrists and the bruises on his face were healing. He was still holding himself rigidly upright. There was near silence for a few minutes, broken only by the sounds of Spike draining the bags of blood, letting them fall to the floor.
He looked up, his eyes still golden, still filled with pain, but now alert, aware of his surroundings. His voice was still harshly rasping, as if... as if the inside of his throat was raw. "Thanks."
She let him drink more of the blood, a corner of her mind trying to keep a running total of how much he'd drank. Twelve, thirteen bags? Surely easily enough to have drained a person entirely. And he still looked terrible, still had this drawn, hungry edge to him. "Who did this to you?"
"I think it was Glory. She thinks I know where the key is." His voice sounded... odd, almost cracked inside.
Dots connected for Willow. "She was torturing you for the information. But... you don't know. None of us know what this key thing is."
He nodded, his eyes filled with something that wasn't quite guilt, more like shame. "I would have told her... to make it stop. But I didn't know."
"She's evil, and scary. But... I can try to help you get better." Willow didn't know quite what to say. Offer sympathy? No, surely Spike wouldn't want that, not from her.
"How did you find me?" He looked at her, his eyes puzzled, and hints of worry.
He didn't know? Willow felt the startlement move through her. But, he'd been so badly injured... "Spike, you were under the hedge in front of my house. Something, I don't know what, woke me up, and I found you outside."
"Bloody hell... was that deliberate?" Spike's voice was filled with so many differing emotions that Willow couldn't quite decipher the subtext. But there was a lot of underlying meaning.
Willow shivered. "no... it can't be. If they know where we live, why wouldn't they come after us? Maybe even search our houses for the whole key thing? So... it had to have been a coincidence." Willow could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
"Red... she's up to something. Something that she thinks will let her find the key." He looked very worried, one hand catching her wrist to make sure that she paid attention.
Glory was up to something to get her key? That couldn't be good. "She tried to make you talk... but why didn't she just... Couldn't she just pull it out of your head?" Willow paused, thinking that that hadn't sounded quite right. "Not that I want her... I mean, it wouldn't be good, but... umm, why didn't she?"
"Apparently she can't get into the mind of a vampire. But she had a plan." Spike drank another packet, making a slight face at the temperature. "She called herself Glorifucus... terror of seven dimensions, or some such."
"I don't think we're going to like her plan." Willow couldn't help it. She knew the statement was obvious - if the big evil has a plan for destruction, you never like it. "Maybe having a name will let us get some information?"
"Slim chance, but... better than nothing." The words came slowly, reluctantly. "Best have the Watcher start looking. Paid enough for the name, might as well try to get something from it."
~Part: 4~
Glory was muttering to herself as she directed two of her minions to draw out the diagrams. Another was carefully attempting to place the bowls of incense, a strange blend that she found soothing and relaxing. It had taken them such a long time to clean up the floor from questioning that vampire. He'd bled all over, creating quite the stain.
Honestly, vampires and minions these days... neither were satisfactory. The vampire had defied her, refusing her reasonable and nearly polite request for her key. So stubborn, he hadn't even wanted to scream in appreciation of her efforts.
As for the minions... no better than third rate at their best. Clumsy, awkward, unattractive... It was very demeaning. At least they were properly respectful, never looking into her eyes, rushing to obey her slightest whim... They were properly respectful. And fairly obedient.
But she wanted her Key.
That vampire couldn't have bent the Slayer to his will on his own. Obviously, that meant that he had the key, or something useful to him. She wouldn't rest until she had her key back, until she could return home.
She still owed that stupid council of lesser gods for throwing her out. They'd been jealous of her beauty, of her power, so they'd banished her here. When she got back... heads would roll, baby.
"Not telling me where my Key is... Miserable disrespectful leech. I'll fix him... figure out just how to make him beg, how to break that little fortress mind. Just the right way to get what I need. Can't read him now, but the way he was then, before becoming a vampire... Doesn't change that much getting turned... no, learn how to break the mortal, learn how to break the vampire.
She smiled as she surveyed their efforts. Everything should be ready by moonrise. "I am brilliant."
~Part: 5~
Spike had closed his eyes, allowing a moment of near bliss at the taste of human blood in his mouth again. Not only the taste of human, but his stomach felt almost uncomfortably full. The down side was the reason why it had happened. No, he hadn't got the bloody chip out, hadn't been able to slaughter the Slayer and bathe in her blood. Instead, he'd been kidnapped and tortured by the scariest evil woman that he'd ever seen, and left to die. Or maybe he'd been intended to barely escape, and be a helpless defenseless wretch when the decided to get him for round two. His body ached all over, especially his back, still a mass of burning pain as his muscles and skin re-knit. Some of the bones had a particular itchy feeling that he knew meant they'd taken injury as well. He hadn't got this blood himself.
Willow had got it for him. She'd gone to Willie's and brought him back blood... easily the equivalent of three grown men. She's tried to tend his wounds, even picking out all the bits of grass and leaves. She'd done her best to help him. It gave him this odd, uncertain feeling. He didn't understand why she would go to the effort, why bestir herself to help him. But she had, and he was grateful, and amazed, and thankful to the very depths of his heart. And once again his ideas of what she could and couldn't do had been turned upside down and shaken.
"Spike? Are you feeling better?" Willow's voice found him, apparently finished with her conversation with whoever had called on the telephone.
He gave a small smirk. "Much better than earlier, Red. But I'm still not quite up to a hundred percent. Who called?"
She sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, the bottom of the lock curling around her ear like a trickle of blood. "Giles called. He's been looking for information on that name, and wants us to come over to hear the news. Sort of makes me thing he found something and it's bad, you know? Anyhow, he's got Anya helping with the research, and Tara and Xander are supposed to be over to make sure we get there safely."
Considering not only her words, but what she hadn't said, Spike frowned. "What's up with you and Tara anyhow? I know the two of you aren't shagging, so why's everyone think you are?"
Willow blushed. "I... we... You aren't supposed to know that. Everyone's supposed to think that we ARE shagging, as you put it. That keeps me safe from Buffy's matchmaking, and... Tara... she had a few problems. She's sort of using me as a shield from unwanted attention. It's a mutual using thing... except that that sounds so calculatingly mercenary."
"How do you know I won't let out your little secret?" He grinned, hoping that she knew he was teasing her, hoping that she'd blush.
Willow did blush, turning a deep near red that went badly with her hair. The blush didn't hide her almost wicked smile, however. "Got a plan for that. If you try, then we have a cover story - you wanted to make our lesbian duo into a torrid threesome and we turned you down. So, the whole jealousy thing."
"Hey! That's... that's... that would be pretty effective, actually." Spike felt himself grinning, wondering how he'd missed the fact that Willow had such a devious streak in her. "Of course, if you ever decided to try that torrid threesome idea... I'd be delighted to help out."
Willow giggled, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Nah... not going to happen. You are't Tara's type at all."
"I think I'm offended. Why wouldn't I be her type? What's wrong with me?" Spike pretended a bit more outrage than he actually felt. And then it hit him - Willow had said that he wasn't Tara's type. Not that he wasn't Willow's type. Hmmmm... That little fact made wheels start turning in the depths of his mind.
Dropping to sit beside him, Willow grinned. "You're much too scary for her. Too much the big bad, the predatory dangerous type that is sure to have vast appetites and exotic tastes. She'd rather have someone a bit more quiet, maybe even a bit shy. More inclined to poetry readings than wrestling."
Tara thought he was too scary? He had to smile at that, remembering all the effort it had taken to get to be the big bad that he was today. "Not easy to become a big bad. It's sort of reassuring to know that someone's still afraid of me. But... becoming a vampire can liberate your dark side, bring out all sorts of things you didn't know were lurking in there. Want to try it?"
"Eeep. Umm... I've seen vampire Willow. We don't need her here right now. Short attention span, rampant sex drive with a lack of discrimination... No, definitely no return of vamp Willow." Willow had this almost nervous expression, and the faintest thread of fear had entered her scent.
Spike grinned, trying to imagine a vampire Willow, one with an aggressive sexuality and less inhibitions. "How did you see... How do you know what you'd be like?"
"I really hope that I'd never be quite like her even if I did get turned. Although I'm starting to think that the leather isn't quite so bad... I think it should make a difference that I wouldn't... couldn't have the same Sire that she did, and she was insecure fifteen year old Willow, not the me that I am today, if that makes sense." Willow paused, as if trying to explain her objections to the vampire version to a vampire. "She couldn't stay focused on a task very long, she wasn't particularly selective about her sexual partners, and she had no concept of discretion. And she was having sex with the Master. Euugh."
Remembering the one time that he'd ever met the Master, Spike winced. "Blegghh. I can see your point. But you aren't the same person that yuo were at fifteen, you wouldn't become her. And the Master's dead, so that wouldn't be an issue."
"You sound so confident of that. But we have to start getting you together so that we can go listen to Giles." Willow didn't sound upset with him.
He wished that he could understand why it seemed so important that she wasn't upset. "Clothing? Mine is a bit worse for wear. And if you ever want to find out how the new you would turn out, let me know. I'd be happy to have you as my childe."
She froze, looking at him with wide eyes. "You... you would want to turn me? To have me as your childe? To actually... It would be different to have a parent watching over me for a while..." She shook her head, as if trying to clear things away. "I got you some extra things. Dark jeans, a black tee shirt. It will have to do for now. And you left a pair of boots over at Xander's so you don't need to have bare feet."
Carefully, he changed into the new clothing, testing to see just how badly everything still protested to movement. Willow hadn't reacted the way he'd expected at all. No protests about not wanting turned, she'd just... Focused on the concerned Sire aspect of it. There had to be some significance to that. "Right then, off to see the Watcher."
~Part: 6~
Xander and Tara had arrived, and there had been a quite spectacular looking hug between Willow and Tara, causing Xander to try not to stare. Seeing their bodies pressed together like that, Spike could definitely understand the staring. He looked himself, wondering how they could... Well, it looked convincing.
"Giles wanted us to meet him at the Magic Box." Tara's voice was low, and she seemed worried about something.
Xander just shook his head, muttering something about exhibitionist tendencies. Then, in a louder voice he added "Anya said she had a weird feeling of something going to happen, some portent of doom type thing. Any second votes?"
Tara looked over, a half smile on her face. "Sunnydale, remember? When isn't something bad about to happen?"
Willow opened her mouth to say something and just stopped. She closed her eyes, apparently concentrating on listening to something. "Anya's right... I can feel something building... the park?"
Xander just shrugged. "Maybe we should cut through the park on the way back then? Just to see if there's anything."
Tara gave him a weak glare. "You just don't want to hurry back."
The teasing continued as they moved towards the park, going slowly partly ot of the pretext of being thorough, partly out of the faint hope of delaying the news that there was nothing they could do, just an all powerful scary evil that would rip them into painfully screaming slivers with her manicured nails. But then Spike started to feel it too, although he couldn't exactly describe it. The air seemed to get thicker, and there were some of her nasty little minions lurking.
"She sent some minions. Something's definitely up." Spike felt his body tense, trying to be ready for a fight, but there was something else... a tendril of fear at the idea of going back. Fear of ever being in her clutches again.
The groups spread out a little bit, enough to have a clear view of the area. They tried to locate the various minions, hoping to prevent them from... well, whatever purpose they had here was probably on Glory's orders, which meant it was probably bad for them.
Slowly, the air began to move, almost as if it was being sucked towards a point, a tiny glowing flicker of pale green. The air swirled around, forming what looked almost like a whirlpool of air tilted onto it's side, sucking up grass clippings, small twigs, and bits of dust. Then, it was as if the current changed directions, and with a flicker of pale green across the vortex, a shape like a man emerged, falling to the ground. The minions surged towards the shape, clearly attempting to capture the who or whatever the portal thingy had dropped.
The Scoobies attacked the minions, and Spike was growling, rejoicing in the chance to hurt these minions, the same creatures that had grabbed him before, the same things that had left him under Willow's hedge. His features had shifted, and he roared a challenge, for the moment allowing himself to give reign to the darkest violent impulses inside of him. He was dimly aware of Tara and Willow doing magical things, of Xander and the person from the portal trying to fight the minions. Finally, there were no more to fight, the entire group of brown demons either dead or run away.
Slowly, he let himself go calm again, every muscle once more screaming agonized protests. He felt the rumbling growl cease, and realized that there was another scent in the air, the scent of the person from the portal. A human scent, one that seemed oddly terribly familiar.
"By chance could someone kindly explain what just happened?" The confused voice carried the unmistakable tones of a proper education, of wealth and correct etiquette. The voice sounded...
Spike spun around, looking at the person that the portal had spat forth. Shoulder length brown hair pulled back by a scrap of ribbon. A brown wool suit, now torn and with bits of leaves and grass clinging to it. A pair of wire frame spectacles perched on his nose, framing confused blue eyes. "Oh bloody hell."
The newly arrived person's eyes grew wide, and he stepped back in alarm. "A vampire!"
Hearing the rapid heartbeat of the man in front of him, recognizing those features, those horrible spectacles, Spike could only repeat his words. "Oh bloody hell."
The others were staring at him and at the mortal looking terrified at Spike. There was no recognition in the mortal's eyes, but Spike didn't need it. "Meet William Exeter, of London."
"Spike?" It was Willow who asked the question on their minds. "How do you know who he is?"
He grimaced, allowing his features to return to their human shape. "Once upon a time I used to be him."
~Part: 7~
"WHAT?!?" The shocked response came from almost everyone.
"But... but he doesn't look like a demented rampaging killer." Xander's words tumbled out.
"Glasses? And... h-h looks sort of... scholarly, sort of like Giles." Tara's soft words weren't so much a question as an observation.
"I most certainly am NOT a vampire! I assure you that I am very much alive. Can anyone help me get back home?" William's voice carried worry and a bit of concern.
Spike glared at everyone, wondering why Willow hadn't made some sort of comment. "I am not demented, that was Dru. I haven't had a bloody rampage for quite a while now, and he's not a vampire. I used to be mortal. Now, I'm not. As for you, William, you can't get home. You aren't in England, definitely not in London, and the year is two thousand and one."
Willow's voice was soft, only heard due to the stunned silence in the park. "Glory's spell brought him here for a reason. She wanted to get him. Therefore, I suggest we keep him... William, that is, away from her."
"I... could take him back to the apartment. Help him get adjusted to here and now." Tara's offer sounded a bit hesitant, and she kept glancing at William, and then away again. "Besides, Giles in big danger mode... it might be a bit much for him."
Willow nodded, apparently deep in thought. "Yeah... that should work. A lot of things have changed since he got up this morning. The rest of us can go talk to Giles and explain this new development."
So they resumed their trip to the Magic Box. Whatever Giles had wanted to tell them would still be important. They would also need to tell Giles about the arrival of William, and try to figure out what it meant.
"Do you think Tara just wanted to get him alone with her?" Spike leaned over, whispering the question to Willow.
Willow looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. "I don't think... not like that! That would be more Anya's speed, not Tara's. She might try to learn a bit more about him though..."
"Best hope he doesn't show her his poetry, the poor bloke. Bloody awful stuff." Spike gave a small shudder, not just at the memory of the disastrous reception his poetry'd received, but at the idea that now, these people would learn about the person he'd once been. How pitiful and hopeless he'd been, mooning over some bird that wouldn't give him the time of day.
"Poetry?" Her whisper was filled with amazement. "But... Tara likes poetry. That might not go too badly for him. I didn't know that you used to write poetry, Spike."
"I stopped." He hoped that Willow would let the subject drop. Poetry lead to pain and humiliation.
Willow was giving him this oddly thoughtful look. Somehow, he'd become the focus of her musings. With a sinking feeling, he suspected that it was because of the glimpse into his past that William had offered her. She was the observant one, just seeing him would tell Willow a lot. The idea made him feel oddly nervous. What if she didn't like William? What if she thought he was as miserable as Cecily had? When did it start to matter what Willow thought of him?
"I wonder what made Glory think you know something about the Key, anyhow."
~Part: 8~
Willow was trying to make sense out of everything. For some reason, Glory thought that Spike had or knew something about this mysterious Key thing. Spike didn't want to talk about why Glory thought that he knew something. Glory had tortured Spike to try to get him to talk, and had her minions dump him afterwards. Glory'd almost killed Spike. Willow wasn't quite certain why the idea upset her so much. Spike had threatened to kill them all in general and specific many times. He wanted to turn her, which should really bother her far more than it did. He was still in love with Dru. Even if he didn't talk about her anymore, you don't spend over a century with a person, have them break your heart and just wake up a few months later all better.
Spike hadn't told Glory what she wanted to know, mainly because he didn't know it either. But Glory wouldn't accept that answer, so... Obviously, Glory had some sort of plan to get information. How did that connect with her not being able to read vampires and using a big scary spell to pull the mortal version of Spike to Sunnydale? Did she think that Spike had known about her key even then? Or... was William some sort of test model? She felt herself run cold at the idea. That would be evil, despicable... well within the things that Glory would be willing to do, actually.
But she was filled with so many questions after seeing William. If that was how Spike had been as a human... he'd changed a lot after being turned. Had it been gradual, or just... I'm dead now, cut and bleach the hair, loose the spectacles, change the wardrobe? Had it been just being changed, or had he deliberately reinvented himself, the way that actors and musicians sometimes did? How much of William was left in Spike? How much of Spike lay buried inside William? Would William be able to adjust to being here, almost two hundred years later in time?
Remembering the way Tara had been looking at the confused young man, she had the feeling that he'd have quite a bit of help. And William had been a poet? Most likely Tara would be smitten. Best hope that William treated her gently. Hmm... if Tara hooked up with William, that would effectively end the lesbian charade, leaving Willow free to... But that didn't matter. She didn't do well with dates. They were always falling short of her internal standards, only, they really didn't even go asking to begin with.
"All we have to do is survive this... hopefully without anyone becoming dead... or deader than they already are." She wasn't quite certain why the words emerged, having been lost in thought.
Spike reached out, his hand touching her elbow for a brief moment. "Sounds good, Red. But how do we make that happen?"
Willow tried to smile, looking at his intense blue eyes. "I... really wish I knew."
They entered the store, slouching behind Xander, who immediately flipped open the donut box. Holding a powdered donut, Xander looked over at Giles and Anya and made his statement in his best profound voice. "Strange things are afoot at the Circle K."
"You mean I was right? What happened? You didn't get hurt, did you?" Anya was beside Xander, one hand touching his arm, curling over the muscles in what could have been possessiveness or admiration.
Giles looked at them, his eyes filled with worry. "Where's Tara?"
Willow sighed. "Well, that's sort of an interesting story. The short version is that there was a magical portal vortex thing that spat out a person, and Tara took him home to try to adjust. umm... we're pretty sure that it was Glory's doing, her minions tried to grab him. He's... umm... he's the guy who late became Spike."
That had been fairly short, covered the main points, and shouldn't have been confusing. Except that she was already feeling confused over the fact that there was now William, Tara seemed interested in William, they had an unknown evil woman trying to get William, and would William being here affect Spike's existence in a creepy Back to the Future no longer existing sort of way?
"She pulled someone through time? But... that could cause issues with Spike existing, depending on what spell she used. It could cause a dimensional shift, or disrupt an alternate reality..." Anya was frowning. "Just remember that this wasn't my fault. Not like that other Willow."
Giles frowned at his teacup. "What would she want with William? Unless... no, someone from two centuries ago wouldn't know about her Key. Which reminds me, I did some research on that name that you gave us."
Frowning, Giles sank into a chair. "She's a hell-goddess. I found some records of her exploits. Very violent and vicious, rather vain as well. One source connects her to the Greek Maenads, powerful madwomen who followed Dionysus. Another story tries to connect her to Teshub, a powerful force of destruction from Babylonian myth. I have no idea what could stop her."
"Way to be Mister Sunshine." Xander's dry comment made people wince.
"We can't just give up. How was Teshub dealt with in the Babylonian myth? I'm not going to just step back and let her take over or whatever she wants. She's evil, and cruel, and... I don't like her."
Spike gave a small snort. "Because you don't like her? Can't pull the same trick that got rid of Teshub - another god had to drop a volcano on him to contain him. Didn't kill him, just locked him away."
Giles looked surprised. "Ahh... yes, Spike is correct about the story of Teshub. And I do not advise attempting to blow up another building."
Anya made a small motion, almost like waving her hand. "D'Hoffryn said something about a Glorificus once. Apparently, that was someone thrown out of one of the more powerful demon councils. There's nothing of the same power level that's been banished here before. And she's much worse than an Acsencion.
Willow sank into another chair, her mind spinning. "A hell goddess... a powerful demon worse than the Mayor... oh dear. This is going to turn out really bad."
~Part: 9~
Spike scowled as he remembered the torments that had been inflicted on him in the pursuit of information. Tortures that the mortal that he'd once been would have no way to deal with. Tortures that he'd rather the mortal version didn't experience, and certainly didn't want to repeat himself. He was also convinced that Glory would be perfectly willing to do all that and more to every single person here to get what she wanted. Unless she just sucked it out of their heads turning them into a raving lunatic.
He realized that the memories were making him growl, and tried to control his emotions. Looking at Giles, he demanded "Isn't there something you lot can do to slow her down, stop her? Get her away from here? Shouldn't there be something useful in those damn books?"
"Now, you seem to be over reacting just a bit..." The Watcher's words sounded as if he was afraid of being attacked.
Willow placed one hand on Giles' arm. "You didn't see how bad he looked when she was done with him, Giles. It was... umm... do you remember the victims of the Kshaga? How their backs had been ripped open? Sort of like that, with injuries elsewhere too. I can understand why he'd rather not let her be able to do it again."
Apparently, Willow's description made a graphic impression on Rupert Giles. "oh dear lord... that bad? But... how did he recover at all? How did he regain consciousness?"
"I picked him up some blood at Willies and fed it to him. A lot of blood. What he really means is the same thing I mean. I don't like her, and I want us to find a way to stop her." There was a core to her voice, not fear, but something strong, something that wouldn't let her break.
Turning to a book, Giles flipped pages while Spike tried to find something on the demons that were her minions. They hadn't seemed that tough one to one, but the problem was that they traveled in groups. Eventually, he found them listed as a minor entry in a dusty old book. It didn't have much of use to say, they were numerous, had a twelve year life cycle, and tended to make blindly obedient minions for just about any power that wanted demony minions. Any method that would kill a human would kill them.
"This... might be a possibility. If we can bind her... possibly place her into a non-mobile form, like a statue or a gem of some sort..." Giles looked hopeful. "Of course, there are complications to the ritual. It must be cast during a full moon, and the casters must have precise focus and control for it to work."
"Won't she... be able to feel it?" Willow's voice was soft, as if she didn't want to crush their single possible hope.
Giles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, yes. Perhaps Tara might have a bit of insight, or a direction to start looking? We can't afford not to look into all of our resources for this matter."
The door jangled, and Buffy entered the room, here eyes narrowed, hands on her hips and her shirt torn over her shoulder. "There are nasty grey munchkins running all over Sunnydale!"
"Here's your solution, Rupert. Send Fluffy there out to annoy the evil bitch until you can finish your ritual." Spike's voice was harsh, and he glared at the Slayer, certain that somehow, this current mess could be blamed on her.
She stalked over, eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "What did you call me? Why is he even here?"
A half smile ghosted over his lips in accompaniment to his momentary concern over Glory. "I called you fluffy. The other comment was referring to the current big evil. Those soddin' grey munchkins are her minions. She wants" Spike paused, swallowing unneeded air. "She wants her key back. For some reason, she thinks that I have information about it."
"Key? Again with this key thing. Giles, are keys covered in the whole Slayer hand book that you never had me read?" Buffy looked a bit deflated, as if she'd been looking forward to smacking him for some perceived insult.
The teacup clinked a bit as it was put back onto the table. "No, Buffy, we don't know anything about this key. We don't know what it is, or where. We don't know what it is a key to."
"She said she could use it to go home." His voice was low, and he tried not to shiver at the memories of his hours of torture.
"To go... home?" Giles blinked as he repeated Spike's words. "But... her home is another dimension."
A sudden horrible thought occurred to him and Spike looked over at Giles. "You're the Watcher, what happens when someone opens a portal to wherever it is that she considers home?"
"errr... I'm not quite certain, but I am inclined to think that it would probably be detrimental to our safety." Giles smelled afraid, and turned to his books with renewed enthusiasm.
Spike winced, imagining the sort of things that could happen. Hordes of demonic invaders, portals spewing fire and poisonous gasses... "Let's try to prevent that. Red, can you call Tara and see if she's got anything to say?"
~Part: 10~
William had followed the woman named Tara, hoping that she could explain what had happened. He'd been on his way home, having spent yet another evening watching the radiant Cecily dance with her more confident suitors. The ones that she acknowledged. The, there had been this strange wind, and the glowing swirl in the air... and he'd fallen into dead grass surrounded by a horde of short, grey skinned wrinkly... things. The grey creatures had tried to seize him, and he' been rescued by a group of strangely dressed people. There was a skinny girl with short red hair, a young man close to his own age with dark hair and this... colorful shirt with some sort of flowers or leaves on it, this beautiful girl Tara, and... a vampire.
The vampire had looked dangerous, with pale hair and a scar over his eyebrow, sharp teeth and this leather coat... and he'd known exactly who he was. Had introduced him to the others. Had claimed to have been him, and that the swirling thing had sent him two hundred years into the future. He wasn't certain that he wanted to believe it, but... How could there be any other explanation?
What had made him the most unhappy was the fact that the red haired woman had taken charge of the situation, and the words that she'd said. Someone named Glory had brought him here, for some unknown but probably bad purpose. They were intending to keep him away from Glory, whoever that was. He was just grateful that he'd gone away with Tara, instead of staying with the commanding red head or the vampire. His uncle was a Watcher, he knew a few things about vampires. Nasty creatures, what with the biting and the violence. And there was the no soul demon possessed corpse part of that as well. He shuddered.
"Are you... are you alright? I know that Sunnydale can be pretty scary." Tara's voice sounded gentle, soothing. She was worried about him.
He tried to smile, hoping that he could manage to keep some semblance of calm around such a lovely woman, especially considering her apparel... He could practically see every wondrous tempting curve to her. "It's... different than home. And more... monsters, I suppose."
She sighed, her shoulders drooping a little. "Yeah... monsters. But not all monsters have sharp teeth and scales, some of them are pretty much humans. Like... my family."
"Your... your family?" Surely he hadn't heard that correctly? How could her own flesh and blood do anything unkind to this woman?
She looked at him, her eyes filled with such depths of pain that it made his heart ache. "They told me that I was part demon. That if I ever got above myself, the demon would come out and they'd have to kill me." She fumbled with a ring of remarkably tiny keys at a door, eventually finding one. She inserted it into a tiny slit in the doorknob, and opened the door. "They didn't want me to do anything beyond cooking and cleaning for them. For the rest of my life."
He shook his head, trying to understand how people could be so cruel. He had no doubts that she spoke the truth, and indeed, he'd heard rumors of terrible cruelties even in London, even among the folk of good breeding and excellent families.
"We're here. I think I have some bandages for those scrapes... and maybe we can find something for you to eat?" She moved into the room, the furniture looking softer, more rounded and welcoming than any that he'd seen before. There was a strange scent in the air, something he couldn't quite place. But it seemed perfect for her.
He walked inside, looking around carefully. There was a shelf full of books, but they were not like any he'd seen before, with bright colors swirling over their covers, and the bindings themselves looked different. Another shelf had something similar to the flimsy paperbacks that he'd seen before, but these were obviously of a higher quality of construction, not to mention being much thicker. "Do you live here alone?"
"There's Miss Kitty Fantastico, my cat. And Willow's over here a lot, but... yeah. Pretty much it's just me." Her voice was slightly muffled by the walls, and the sound seemed to be absorbed by the tightly woven soft carpets beneath his feet.
William sighed as he allowed himself to sink into the welcoming softness of the chair. Such a welcoming place, not pretentious or intimidating, but... comfortable, soothing. Leaning back, he felt his muscles relaxing, the burning of all the terror and exertion fading. With a demanding meow, a furry body pressed itself against his arm, a familiar soothing insistence to be petted. Reaching, his hand encountered the soft fur of a cat, which then proceeded to walk onto his lap, purring loudly. A delightful calico, white and orange with grey stripes perched on his lap, purring and kneading his legs. With a small smile, he looked at the cat. "You must be Miss Kitty."
The cat looked at him, its... her? expression one of the same smug superiority that cat's always held. The cat continued to purr as she made herself comfortable on his lap.
"Yes, she does seem to have that effect. I don't think I've ever met a more welcoming person, or been n a more comfortable place. Do you think... could you put in a good word for me?" Perhaps it was silly to talk to the cat. But he whispered the words anyhow.
Her perfume returned first, at once soothing and alluring. She came into the room, arms filled with a shining box that was for some reason blue. "I found the first aid kit. This should help with those injuries..."
"err... thank you." He felt terribly awkward as she dabbed at his wounds, none fo them very serious, but all quite unhappily painful. She smeared a pale yellow salve that had a not unpleasant but strange scent, and put on tiny bandages that held themselves to his flesh. "There. That's better."
"So, William, what do you do?" Her voice was a bit hesitant, as if she feared he wouldn't want to answer her question.
He smiled at her, glancing quickly at his scraped hands. "I'm a student at a university. History, mostly, with some languages and a bit of mythology. My uncle sort of insisted, you see."
"Maybe you'll be able to adjust to being here. I mean, we can help you." She stammered a bit, as if she was unused to making those sort of decisions.
They sat there for a while, feeling a bit awkward and sipping at some tea from delicate cups with a pattern of yellow leaves around the rim. There was a sudden noise, like an insistent bell being rung very quickly. He watched in bafflement as Tara walked over to what he'd assumed to be an ugly table ornament, and picked part of it up, holding it by her ear. She then spoke into it, as if it would answer her. "Yes, we got here safely. He's pretty sure that there's a lot different here than at home."
"She's a what? Oh no... but... how could we do anything?" She sank into a chair, her face growing pale.
William stood up, reaching out to touch her arm. "Tara? What do you hear? What is this... thing?"
She looked up, for a moment her face blank with surprise. "Oh... it's a t-telephone. It lets people talk over a long distance. Right now, I'm talking to Willow. She said... Glory has a lot of power. Enough that... s-she's calling herself a g-goddess."
"Oh dear." He almost sat down, remembering the lack of chair just in time. "Oh dear... umm... wait, there was something my uncle said... Apparently, these warlocks cast a spell that would drain the power of other wizards, essentially stealing it. Could they... maybe something similar to weaken her? Is there more to the plan than that, I hope?"
Tara smiled at him, almost seeming radiant. He could feel the image imprinting to his memory, and words danced in his mind, trying to form verses, phrases to describe her appeal. She was breathtaking.
"William said there was something he was told about a group of warlocks stealing magic... taking it away with a spell. Could we... would something like that work against her?"
"Wonderful! That's good news. I'll just... h-help him adjust to being here." She was smiling again as she returned the shape in her hand to it's resting place, and she hugged him in delight. "We have a plan! We have a plan. Not a very detailed on yet, but a lot better than nothing."
For a few moments, they clung to each other, bodies pressed together, delighted smiles on their faces. But eventually the moment ended, and she let go of him with a blush and a few awkward noises.
"I'll j-just... go p-put the f-first aid kit away." She was still blushing as she retreated from the room.