Pairing:Wi/Sp
Disclaimer:All the BtVS characters and the locale of Sunnydale are owned by Joss and the other usual suspects. If I owned 'em they'd stay in my toybox *grin*
Summary: Part 1 of a series of links short stories
Distribution:Bite Me, please, Soulmates, Fever of Fate, Near Her Always The Adult Willow Fanfic Archive and Willows Ripper if they want it, anyone else, just ask -- hell, it's a first attempt, how likely am I to say no?
Feedback: Continues to be wonderful and is frighteningly addictive. "I'm STILL not satisfied!" Tom Lehrer, fr "Smut" 1965
Author's notes: 1) Spike will sling the bat more than usual in this piece. ie use more and a greater variety of Pommie slang 2) The point of divergence is 5.06 "Family" Tara elects to return home. 3) all thoughts are enclosed in { } 4) Thanks as always to My bodacious beta slave, karen for her untiring work to help Me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~ Illusory Enemies
Three months after the conclusion of “A Very Ordinary Evil”
“Damn it Spike! I can’t research like this!”
“Why not pet?”
“Because I’m butt naked!”
“Oh, that.”
”Yes, that. Now let me get dressed first. Then we can go research.”
“Sorry kitten, Giles said it was urgent and we had to be there now. I didn’t even look as I came in.”
Willow collapsed back on the bed, roaring with laughter. “Honestly, Spike,” she gasped out between guffaws. “At times you’re so Victorian it’s frightening!”
Spike mock-glared at his diminutive lover. “You’re a brat. I’ll deal with you later young lady.”
“Ooooh! Promise?”
Spike glared and pointed towards the walk in robe. “Get thee to a dressery, wench!”
“Wench?” Willow asked, plaintively. “Do I look like a buxom wench? I’m not getting fat am I?”
Spike chuckled. “Kitten, you’re not gaining any weight at all. You’re as slender now as the first time I saw you.”
“Really?”
“Yes pet, really.”
“Well, that’s good.” Willow walked off to get dressed, twitching her hips enticingly.
* * * *
As Spike and Willow walked into Giles’ apartment, they saw him struggling with blueprints all over the table. He looked up as he heard the door open. “Oh, I’m sorry about this. The plans for the new Magic Box are being … difficult.”
Willow’s lips quirked as she asked, “That’s not why you asked us over is it Giles? To fight evil blueprints?”
“Well, er … no. It’s more to do with the sightings of some rather peculiar … demons I suppose we’d call them.”
“What kind of demons?” Spike asked, his interest piqued by Giles lack of knowledge.
“Well, that’s just it. Everyone who’s seen them describes something quite different. The only point of consistency is the number. There are always five.”
“Well, perhaps there are more than one group.” Willow suggested logically.
“No, Willow, you misunderstand, or I wasn’t clear. I’m talking about witnesses who describe the same group. Seen at the same place and the same time. Two of the witnesses are very reliable--Anya and Xander.”
“Oh,” Willow said. “That changes things then, doesn’t it. What did Xander and Anya see? I’m wondering if they were at different angles and saw the same thing.”
“I already checked that Willow. Xander said he didn’t know what the demons were, but that they were at least eight feet tall, naked, deep blue skinned and had four large curling horns and were unarmed. Anya said they were a light grey, about six feet tall, hornless and carried swords. And Xander and Anya were next to each other when they saw the demons.”
Willow looked puzzled and thoughtful. “Did they have mouths?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you remember, Giles, about the telepathic demon that gave Buffy telepathy? Could these be another group of telepathic demons? Ones that somehow … project images to people, making them see different things?”
Giles looked at Willow. “That’s an excellent thought. Now we have a line of research. Shall we start?”
Willow smiled and immediately headed for the database she had established over the years for Giles, while both Giles and Spike turned to some of the volumes on the shelves.
Research had become easier, especially since Spike had taken the disorder of Giles’ library in hand six weeks earlier. All the books that had been scanned into the database were consigned to the basement, packed carefully into boxes designed to avoid damp and mildew. The books that had been partially scanned were placed closest to Giles’ computer, while those that had not yet been dealt with lined the other walls.
Both Giles and Spike both selected books from the far wall and began to read; while Willow accessed the database she had created and began to search for demons which met her criteria. The trio worked in an amicable silence until the door burst open. “So, G-man, found out what I accurately saw yet?”
”What you accurately saw? Xander, you’re so annoying. I know what I saw, and you didn’t. So there.” Anya responded hotly, if somewhat illogically.
“Now, both of you calm down.” Giles said sternly. “Willow has an hypothesis which could well explain what you both saw. So if you would like to sit and listen, I’ll get her to explain it to you.”
Willow reduced the screens and turned in the computer chair to look at the young lovers. “We aren’t sure yet, but I think that the demons, or whatever it is that you saw, have some kind of telepathic ability to project images that each person interprets differently.”
“And in English?” Xander asked, a little acerbically.
“You see what they want you to see, and they want everyone to see something different.” Willow explained.
“So we were both wrong?” Anya asked, obviously disappointed.
“No,” Willow said. “You saw what they made you see. You both reported what you thought you saw. I’d say you were both right, rather than both wrong.”
“Both right? All co-operative? Isn’t that a bit socialist?” Anya asked accusingly.
“This is demons, not politics Anya,” Willow said in exasperation. “Politics aren’t involved with demons … well unless you count the Initiative and Spiro Agnew.”
“Well, since you’re here, you can help with the research.” Giles added, smiling. “There are still a lot of books you can access without having to use Willow’s computer.”
Xander sighed while Anya rolled her eyes. “But I’m a capitalist,” Anya stated. “Shouldn’t I hire someone to research for me?”
Spike was in front of Anya instantly, using his vampiric speed, holding a hand out in front of him. “Only thirty bucks an hour.” He said, grinning.
“What! That’s extortion!” Anya squawked.
“No, it’s capitalism,” Spike responded.
Anya glared at him, and then went to the bookshelves. She snatched two books, seemingly at random, and sat down with Xander to start helping the group find out what was happening.
* * * *
Willow sighed as she shut her laptop down. “There’s nothing in the database so far.” She said tiredly. “Once things calm down, Spike and I’ll do some more scanning for you Giles. For now though, we’re going to have to do it the hard way.”
“Thank you Willow. I know I may not show it, but I do appreciate the work you and Spike have put in.”
Willow smiled a little wanly. “It didn’t help this time though. Sorry Giles.” As she spoke, she rose and walked to the bookcase, also taking down a book to help discover the origins of the demons.
The work continued, until Giles’ ormolu clock pealed out the time at two in the morning. Both Anya and Xander had succumbed to sleep. Giles was beginning to nod a little, and Spike noticed that Willow looked pallid. “Giles,” Spike began, “I think we should turn it up for the night. The moron and yoyo knickers are … OWWWWWW! What was that for pet?”
“I told you not to call Anya that.”
“Damn it luv, that hurt.”
“Good, it was meant to. Now, what were you saying?”
“Just that everyone’s tired and we should knock off for the night. Do some more tomorrow night.”
“Ah, okay then. It makes sense.”
“Well, all right then,” Giles responded, stretching as he did so. “I’ll wake the sleeping beauties and encourage them to seek their own bed. Why don’t the pair of you head off home?”
Spike nodded. “Okay Ripper. Get some rest why don’t ya?”
Giles nodded tiredly as Willow and Spike departed.
* * * *
Spike held Willow close as they sat at Giles’ table the next night. The news had been horrific. Five young women had been slaughtered during the day; and the details were enough to turn the strongest stomach. In addition, although the killers had been described very differently, all five women had been mutilated in an identical ritual manner.
It was this last fact that haunted everyone; surprisingly, even Spike. The obvious inference was that the demons that Anya and Xander had spotted were the perpetrators of the atrocities, and all, to some extent, felt as if they had failed. Cordelia--who had not been present the previous night--was there and equally upset. Two of the victims had been Cordettes in their high-school days. Even though she had grown apart from the essentially shallow girls, she still had fond memories of them.
Giles sighed, and looked over at Willow. “Do you think you can get into the coroner’s files? I need to know if there was anything the women had in common, other than their age.”
Willow nodded. “I can do that, then maybe the database will show something when we have all the details of the killings,” she said as she went to the computer desk.
Willow simply went to her bookmarks and used the back door she had found years ago to enter the coroner’s site. It took her only moments to locate the details she needed. “Giles, I have all the details, and there is one thing we weren’t aware of. All five girls were virgins.”
Giles looked up. “That’ll limit what we have to hunt for. Virgin sacrifice isn’t the Modus Operandi of most demons.”
“I always thought it was a bloody waste,” Spike interjected. As the others all looked up in shock, he continued. “Virgins are over-rated. There’s nothing special about their blood. When I was that way inclined, I’d rather have seduced than killed a virgin.”
“Wait a minute, we are talking about Melody, aren’t we?” Cordelia asked. “Because she had so many boyfriends that she couldn’t keep their names straight.”
“Perhaps she didn’t …” Giles petered out, unable to articulate what he wanted to say in front of the people he still considered his children.
“Put out?” Anya asked, bluntly.
Giles reddened slightly and nodded.
Cordelia looked surprised a moment and then began to laugh. “It makes sense, given the amount Harmony used to lie about her boyfriends.” A thought occurred to her. “Was she alone?”
Willow looked briefly at the reports. “No, she was with Sabina.”
“From the forensic reports, is there anything that would suggest that they were … close?” Cordelia persisted.
“I didn’t even think of that,” Willow answered, “let me look.”
Moments later Willow looked up. “There’s nothing certain, but they shared an apartment.” She shrugged before asking, “Why?”
“I just thought that finding lesbians might be a good way to find sort-of virgins.”
Giles raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather clever thought Cordelia. It’s the kind of short cut that some demons would use.”
Cordelia smiled at Giles compliment as Willow turned and re-engaged her database search with details of the mode of killing. Spike had already turned to the books, muttering about demons who tried to do things in his town.
Willow looked up only minutes later. “I have the ritual killing here Giles, a precise match. It’s attributed to a demon called a Lapsardis. I’ll need to cross-reference that though.”
Giles nodded and went to some books that he had not perused the previous night. Flicking as rapidly as he could through the old vellum pages, he found the entry he had been seeking. “Ah, the Lapsardis.” He said in a satisfied tone. “It says nothing here about any kind of telepathic ability. Willow, has that infernal machine given you any information yet?”
“Yes, but there’s nothing here about telepathy either. It describes them though. About um … how many cubits is six?”
Spike sniggered, while Xander looked at Willow open-mouthed. Giles moved to smooth over Willow’s faux-pas. “About nine feet, Willow, but why did you ask?” He replied, answering the question Willow had meant to ask.
“Because that’s how tall they are.”
“How very odd, this book says they’re around er … five feet tall.”
“What? I have an idea. Everyone else, try and find these Lapsardis demons in books,” said Willow urgently. “Giles, come here and we’ll see how much the information matches.”
Willow and Giles poured over the printouts that Willow had generated and the book he had found the information in, comparing notes. In short order, they discovered that the Lapsardis sacrificed twenty virgin women in the month prior to each Lunar Eclipse to ensure their breed’s continued fertility. The manner of the sacrifice was very specific, and perfectly matched the wounds suffered by the victims. That however, was the only congruity. The description of the demons themselves was totally different.
Cordelia brought a book over. “These guys are so gross,” was her initial contribution to the discussion.
She handed over the book to Giles. As he looked through the book he nodded. “Yes, once again the description of the ritual is identical, but the description different.”
“That’s what I expected,” Willow said. “It’s obvious that the Lapsardis are able to project very different images to everyone who sees them. I’d assume that they can also project images of humans, that would be how they can get close enough to attack.”
Giles nodded again. “Yes, but that’s going to make it very difficult to find them.”
“Perhaps not.” The voice from behind the three startled them. It was Xander’s. “Do your books say anything about smell?”
“No,” Giles answered, “there’s nothing in any of them about smell.”
“Well, this one does, it says that they’re accompanied by a smell rather like vinegar.”
“Well, that’ll help a lot,” Spike interjected sarcastically. “We can all wander around sniffing and appear completely normal. And of course, we’ll track down every fish’n’chip shop in town.”
“Spike, be nice. It’s more than anything else we have.” Willow said sternly.
“Have either you or Anya found anything?” Giles asked.
“Well … No. Not yet, but let’s be fair, Ripper, the chances of Chubs finding something before me shows it’s nothing but chance.”
Willow giggled, and at Xander’s glare, poked her tongue out, grinning. “The point is,” she said, hoping to head off the tangential discussion that Spike and Giles were about to have, “that we need to go through each book and try to get some kind of confirmation about smell. It’s the only lead we have so far.”
* * * *
Seven hours later, they had finished working through all of the possible volumes. The Lapsardis was described differently in each volume, but three books mentioned the smell of vinegar.
As Giles tiredly pushed the last of the books away from him, he spoke
in exhausted tones. “So, we have to try and find these creatures, that
look different to everyone who sees them, using only the smell of vinegar.
And we have only five days before the next series of sacrifices.”
~Part: 2~
16 hours after the conclusion of part 1
“How’re we gonna to find any of them?” Willow asked Spike plaintively.
“The only idea I’ve had, pet, is the possibility of you talking to the women’s groups on the campus. Trying to find out if any new arrivals have shown up in the last week or two.”
“I can’t really see that working. They seem rather … distant nowadays. I suppose since Tara and I broke up, and … oh I don’t know. But I can’t see them telling me anything.”
“Bugger. I’m snookered then luv. I’ve got no bloody idea how to do this.” Spike thought for a moment. “Pet, you can cast spells that will find things, right?”
Willow nodded.
“What about a spell that can detect the smell?”
“I don’t think I can do it. It’s not like a smell is a thing. It’s all molecules floating in the air, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Bugger it. I don’t want these bastards slicing up anyone on my patch. What about a spell to counter their telepathy luv?”
“What do you mean, your patch?”
Spike grinned. “Can’t help it pet. Us vamps are very territorial. I just don’t like other kids in my playground. I don’t like other people messing around on my turf. If anyone’s going to do killings here, it’ll be me.”
Willow shook her head and smiled a little. “What am I going to do with you?”
Spike just grinned, and Willow blushed a bright red. “Not like that Spike!”
“More importantly pet, what are we going to do about these bloody demons? Can you block their telepathy?”
“I’d need to know that I was casting the spell at them. Otherwise I’d have no way to focus it. Once we find them, I think I can probably block them, but until I know where they are, I can’t do anything.”
“Bloody hell! No pet, I’m not angry with you. I’m angry at the situation. We’ve got to find these buggers. Quickly.”
Willow looked up thoughtfully. “I could see if there is something available on the net that’ll do the job.”
“That’s a good idea pet.”
* * * *
About an hour later, Willow pushed her chair back and stretched. She looked over at Spike, slumped in a chair and watching TV. “I found it,” she said a little hesitantly.
Spike looked up. “That was quick love.”
Willow nodded. “There is a small problem however …”
“What luv?”
“It’s … a bit expensive.”
“How expensive?”
“Ummmmm … ten thousand dollars?”
“How much?” Spike squawked.
“Well, it’s an electronic odour detector Spike, it’s pretty much cutting edge. And I can’t think of anything else.”
“Bloody hell pet. That’s a hell of a lot of money for something we may only ever use once!”
“I know, but I don’t know what else to do Spike. My magic is limited. I can’t cast a spell unless I can see a target. So I can’t track them until I find them. Catch 22. I suppose we have to hope Giles found something that could work.”
“Well love, if there’s no other option, then we’ll look at it. Okay?”
* * * *
As Willow and Spike walked into the Magic Box soon after sunset, they saw that everyone else was already present, and looking decidedly downbeat.
“What’s happened?” Willow asked immediately.
Xander looked up. “We’ve gotten nowhere. Giles spent the whole day researching, leaving Anya to work alone. Cordy came over early to help, too. And Anya and I have been helping since five. But there’s nothing! No spells, no way to follow those ... things. Nothing!” Xander looked defeated.
“Well, I did a web search today, and I may have found something,” Willow said, desperate to raise their spirits. “I found a chemical odour detector. We can buy it, but it’s rather pricey. It will be able to follow their scent though, once we’ve found it.”
Xander looked at her, hope burning in his eyes again. “How long will it take to get it?”
“I’m not sure. But I’d hope we could get it within twenty-four hours.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Cordelia asked.
“It costs ten grand.” Spike answered flatly.
“How much?”
“Bloody Hell!”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “But it does. It’s cutting edge technology.”
“So what are we going to do?” Cordelia asked plaintively.
Willow looked over at Spike, delivering a devastating ‘puppy-dog’ look that simultaneously made him weak at the knees and feel obscurely guilty. “Oh all right Red, we’ll get it! That look of yours should be registered as a deadly weapon!”
Willow managed to grin and blush at the same. “Well luv, don’t just sit there, go and call them. Find out how long it takes to get!”
Willow smiled and fished the number of the company from her jeans pocket and went to Giles’ phone.
When she returned, she told everyone what had happened. “I had to do a bit of fast talking,” she began, “but, to make a long story short, a ‘sniffer’ is being Fed-Ex’d to us tomorrow. It should arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon. We should start to make plans for using it.”
* * * *
Shortly after sunset the next day, Willow and Cordelia arrived at the apartment that had been home to Melody and Sabina. Making a quick survey to see if anyone was looking, Willow removed the hand held device and turned it on. Willow had already set the detector to sense only the vinegar smell that they had worked out was associated with the Lapsardis demons. “Oh look, it works, it works!” Willow was excited as the LEDs on the little sniffer flashed. “We can track them!”
The two girls followed the scent path down to the foyer of the apartment building and outside, where the rest of the gang were waiting. “It works!” Willow informed them excitedly. “They went to the left.”
The whole group followed the scent path down the street and then along the meandering path the group of demons had taken, presumably as they searched for their prey. They arrived at another apartment, this one also still sealed by crime scene tape. It took a little time to find the scent again, but when they eventually did they continued to follow the trail. The trail led, from the other apartment, to an abandoned service station. As the Scoobies moved closer, trying to observe, Spike saw some kind of movement.
Dropping to his haunches, he motioned for the others to stop. He pointed towards the single small light flickering faintly through one of the broken windows. As the others looked, they each saw their personal demons.
Willow smiled, and slid her hand into the small pouch of crystals that she now habitually carried everywhere and withdrew one. Muttering a single word, she threw the crystal through the broken window and it activated. When they looked again, they could see the Lapsardis in their true forms. Willow’s will-suppression spell had worked.
The Lapsardis were small bipedal creatures, perhaps four feet tall. They were a pure white skinned demon, with a crown of small horns decorating their heads. Beneath the crown were two eyes that appeared to be adapted for daylight vision. Their fingers terminated in razor sharp claws perfect for the kind of damage done during the ritual slayings. As the Scoobies watched, they could see the five creatures eating something. After a moment, Giles blanched. “My God! That’s a human pancreas!” He whispered urgently to the others.
Spike nodded and removed a bottle from his jacket. “I can chuck this in and we’ll probably not have any problems,” he said grimly. “It’s a Molotov Cocktail,” he explained to the curious looks he received.
He lit the taper and waited for the cloth it was made from to catch fully alight and then threw the bomb into the centre of the Lapsardis’ improvised lair. As it exploded, huge tongues of flame rolled out of the cracks in the wall and the broken windows and the Scoobies beat a hasty retreat.
They watched as the demons staggered out of the inferno Spike had created. Two of the creatures were covered in flame and they writhed as the fire slowly consumed them. One had received massive injuries to its left arm, which hung loosely, only connected to the shoulder by flaps of skin. The other two appeared uninjured.
Spike sprinted forward and, while the demons were still disoriented, delivered a blindingly fast series of kicks, punches and bites. In a matter of seconds, one was dead, it’s ribcage rent to pieces. The other turned and attempted to fight. It delivered a series of slashing blows, some of which caught Spike across the chest. He staggered and reeled backwards.
Willow gasped in horror as she saw her lover injured. She took another crystal from her pouch and stood up, hurling it towards the remaining demon with all her might. “Tranformatum Hasta!” She cried as the crystal was in flight. It turned into a spear, long, slender and deadly, that drove into the chest of the remaining Lapsardis.
As the demon fell, lifeless to the ground, Spike looked back, game face firmly fixed in place, before swaying and then collapsing.
As the Scoobies rushed towards Spike, he was already beginning to rise. “Bloody Hell that hurts!”
As he stood unsteadily, a small redheaded bullet hit him. “Goddess! Are you all right Spike? Let me see! Lord and lady, if I knew it’d hurt you that much, I would have done worse than spear it!”
Xander and Giles helped support Spike, while Willow examined the series of slashes across his chest and abdomen. “We need to get back quickly. There’s a lot of blood loss.” Willow said, her voice quavering with her concern.
Spike began to lose consciousness once more and was prevented from falling only by Giles and Xander supporting his weight.
“I don’t want to appear insensitive,” Cordelia began, “but in my experience explosions and large fires usually lead to the arrival of the police and other emergency services. We should go. Now.”
Willow muttered under her breath and then released another crystal. There was a large pyrotechnic flash, and suddenly everyone was in Spike and Willow’s apartment.
Xander appeared to recover first from the nauseating shock of the translocation. “Just have to say, Will, that’s not replacing the car anytime soon.”
Willow looked at everyone, chagrin on her face. “Sorry. But I really wanted to get back here so I could arrange for Spike to get some blood. I try and keep a point of human blood in the fridge at all times.” In response to the expressions of shock she continued to explain. “Yes, it’s mine, but don’t worry. I only take a pint every two weeks, which is safe. And having a small emergency supply will let Spike heal if he needs to. Like he does now.”
Giles sighed and went to the fridge. He removed the single plasma bag from the top shelf. He decanted it into a cup and set it to heat in the microwave. Once it was ready he brought it into the living room.
Spike was now sitting on the couch, looking very disoriented. As Giles handed him the cup, Spike smiled up and murmured his thanks. The expressions of surprise on all of the faces around him confused him even further. “What, if I may ask, is wrong?” Spike asked in a completely different voice to normal.
“You … you sound like … Giles!” Xander exclaimed, shocked.
“I do? How strange. I would assume it to be an after-effect of the grievous shock which I suffered during combat. I must say, Rupert, that you’ve prepared this blood to perfection.”
Giles squeezed out a strangled “You’re welcome,” to Spike as he looked utterly stunned at the transformation that had taken place.
Spike smiled and held his hand out to Willow. “Light of my life. May I hold thee?” As Spike took Willow’s hands in his, he pressed them to his chest, reached into a side pocket and removed a small notebook along with a ballpoint pen. He began to write feverishly, his eyes darting from Willow to the page and back again.
Willow blushed a deep red while Xander snickered and Anya simply looked at her lover for a moment before leaning over, nudging him and whispering into his ear “Take notes.”
Giles smiled at the interplay between the two young couples. He looked over at Cordelia and asked her “Should we perhaps retire a graceful distance and allow them to be … demonstrative?”
Cordelia smiled. “With them, you may want to phrase it demon-strative.”
Giles winced at the pun, rose, and suddenly seized by an urge to also play a role, bowed in a courtly fashion to Cordelia and proffered his arm to escort her out. “Shall we?” He asked in a very cultured tone.
Cordelia smiled and played along. She curtseyed and said, in an atrociously bad impersonation of a southern accent, “Why thank’ya Suh. Ah dew declare that youah th’ only true gennelman in th’ room.” Cordelia accepted Giles’ graciously proffered arm and together they left the room to the two pairs of lovers.
* * * *
Spike woke the next evening with a blinding headache and some terrible memories. He looked over at Willow, still asleep next to him. In her hand was still clasped a much creased and twisted scrap of paper. He peered at it in the dim light and saw his own handwriting. He very cautiously drew it from her hand and read it.
“Oh bloody, bloody fuckin’, buggering, bloody hell. It’s poetry! What
the hell happened to me?”
~Part: 3~
Four Weeks after the end of part 2.
Willow curled up in bed, luxuriating in the warmth of the covers. The cold weather had arrived earlier than normal, and she detested it. She stretched and realised that she should get up, noticing how late it was. She had been overjoyed to discover she could take all evening classes in this, her junior year in college. It allowed her and Spike much more time together. She reluctantly threw the covers off, wondering how long Spike had been up. The room was cold enough to make her immediately grab her flannel robe and slip it on, before walking out into the living room.
As she emerged into the glaring lights of the living room, she saw Spike slouched in a recliner armchair, reading an old book. She could see he was utterly engrossed, and, her impish sense of humour getting the better of her, she decided to surprise him. She walked cautiously up behind him and covered his eyes, saying, “Guess wh … aaaaaaaaah!”
Willow sailed across the room as Spike reacted, throwing her over his shoulder. “Oh shit, pet! Sorry!” he cried as he saw what had happened.
Almost as soon as Willow landed, crashing into the bookshelves on the far side of the room, Spike was by her side and beginning to lift her up. “I’m so sorry luv, you startled me.”
The little redhead looked back at him and said, “Remind me never to throw you a surprise party.” As her legs gave out.
* * * *
Willow regained consciousness in the hospital, surrounded by nurses and two doctors. “What happened? Goddess, that had to sound trite. I have a headache and where’s Spike?”
A middle-aged woman in a business suit appeared next to Willow’s bed. “Sign these, and you’ll never have to worry about Mr Blood again, dear.”
Willow looked up, confused. “Why would I want to do that?”
“So he can’t beat you again dear.”
“But he didn’t.”
“He told us what happened. How he threw you into the wall.”
“It was an accident. I surprised him, and he reacted.”
“Yes, dear, of course it was. Just sign these papers.”
“No.”
“All right dear, we can’t make you. But don’t worry about that brute. He’ll never hurt you again.”
* * * *
Spike sighed and sat back in the chair. After his immediate detention by the security guards at the hospital, he had called Giles, who had arrived just in time to sit in as, supposedly, Spike’s lawyer. Unusually, the interview was occurring in a small room at the hospital. The fact that Willow had not been spoken to, and Spike’s vehement insistence on not leaving the hospital until he knew about Willow’s condition had seen to that.
The police interview had not been going well. The officers patently disbelieved Spike’s story; and were already beginning to threaten various kinds of legal charge being brought against him. In addition, one of the pair was obviously anglophobic, which further aggravated the situation.
Spike looked over at Giles. “Can we find out if Willow’s okay?”
“If she is, it won’t be any thanks to you,” the anglophobic policeman stated bluntly.
Spike glared at him. “I bleedin’ well know that you daft git. I know what I did. I also know it was an accident. Now, why don’t one of you at least find out if Willow’s regained her bloody senses?”
“Officer,” Giles interrupted, “do you think, honestly, that if Spike had meant Willow any harm that he would have brought her to the hospital. We’ve viewed the footage from the security cameras. You know how distressed he was.”
“No, we know he said he was.”
Giles sighed. “And what about the martial arts training? I explained how the situation could occur.”
“And who made you a doctor?”
Giles looked levelly at the Police Officer. “Very well then, can we suspend this interview while I make a phone call?”
“Sure, it won’t change anything.”
Giles returned some ten minutes later. “I’ve called a psychiatrist who I know. A Dr McKeon. He’s a consultant here specialising in combat fatigue. He’s the perfect person to speak to about this.”
* * * *
Willow looked up at the social worker. “For the last time, I will not sign any kind of restraining order. It was an accident. I got concussed, that’s what the doctors told me. Now, go away, or I’ll make you go away.”
The woman looked at her. “I’m really sorry you feel this way. But we will help you.” Smiling, the social worker walked out of the room.
Willow sighed, and sat up. She was alone for the first time since she had come to. “Damn it, I’ve got to find Spike,” she said aloud.
She looked around, “Where on earth did they put my … oh shit, I only had that robe on! Spike must have brought me in. I bet he didn’t even bring my purse!”
The little redhead got out of bed, feeling the breeze of the air conditioning blowing around the tied back of the hospital gown she wore. “Goddess! I have to get some clothes.”
Willow took a deep breath and began an incantation “Spirits aid, I call on thee. Thine assistance I require. Help me dress and leave this place, in the clothing I desire.”
There was a muted flash as Willow’s spell worked. She looked down at the clothes in a neat pile at her feet and gasped. “Goddess! That wasn’t what I meant by desire!” Then a wave of nausea swept over her and she had to sit on the bed. “I guess that means no more magic for awhile,” she concluded ruefully as she held her aching head.
She looked at the clothes again, sighed and began to dress. She drew up the leather skirt, a lovely calf length design, with unfortunately, splits to just below both hips. Then she pulled on the patent leather ankle boots, balanced a little precariously on the four and a half inch stilettos and threaded the leather tongue through the buckles. Finally, she opened the corset, slid it over her shoulders and began to tie the ornate frontal lacing as tightly as she could.
As Willow left the emergency cubicle, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a glass partition. “Goddess! I look like the demon harlot from hell!”
* * * *
“Ah, Dr McKeon, it’s so good to see you again.” Giles said when the psychiatrist was shown into the interview room.
“Giles, it’s been entirely too long. How’s everyone?”
“Buffy decided to go to England, as we talked about. Willow and Spike had a little accident. That’s the reason I called you. Peter.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened, Spike?” McKeon asked, looking over at the thoroughly miserable vampire.
Spike’s recounting of the incident was terse, but conveyed everything that happened. McKeon looked over at the two policemen. “Have either of you interviewed Ms Rosenberg yet?”
The policemen looked back. “No, we were called in by the social worker,” one answered.
“Ms Rosenberg was still unconscious when the interview began,” the other added.
“Don’t you think that checking with her would be a good idea?” McKeon asked in a deceptively quiet voice.
“What? Surely you don’t believe that story of his?”
“Officer,” McKeon sighed, “there are over thirty similar cases on record where the person who surprised the ex-soldier was not only hurt, but killed. So, yes, his story is believable. And from what I know of Mr Blood and Ms Rosenberg, I am strongly inclined to believe them.”
“Well, obviously we were going to talk to Ms Rosenberg …”
“But you decided to try and coerce a confession first.” McKeon concluded.
“What’re you saying?”
“Just that you should really speak to Ms Rosenberg first. I suggest you do so. Now.”
The policemen realised they would get nowhere with McKeon until they did. With a muttered “Wait here,” they went off to see Willow.
* * * *
Willow walked cautiously out towards the hospital’s emergency desk. When she reached it, she noticed that the woman at the contact counter appeared somewhat … forbidding. “Excuse me,” she began tentatively, “but I need to see my boyfriend. His name’s William Blood.”
The receptionist looked up at Willow. “You can’t. He’s being interviewed by the police.”
“What? Why?” Willow was utterly confused.
“That is not my concern. Please return to your room.”
Willow drew herself in and put her resolve face in place. “I wish to discharge myself. Immediately. And how do you know that I’m a patient anyway?”
“You’re on the admittance side of the doors. No-one gets through on my watch.”
“Oh. I think you may have been working the last time I came in. I cut my hand accidentally.”
The woman looked at her. “Oh, yes. Your boyfriend’s a rude, obnoxious and very aggressive Englishman?”
Willow blushed and nodded, realising as she did so that, for the first time ever, someone had, at least temporarily, defeated her resolve face. {No way. If I lose this round, it’ll never work again,} she thought angrily.
Willow resumed her resolve face and said coldly, “I remember. You weren’t going to let him in until he threatened a lawsuit. Now, that’s beginning to sound like a really good idea. Let me out immediately or I’ll go call our lawyers.”
“What’s going on here?” Like the tolling of a death bell, the falsely cheerful voice of the social worker came to Willow’s ears.
“I’m discharging myself. Then I’m finding my boyfriend and we’re going home. That’s what’s happening.”
“Actually, dear, you can’t. I’ve decided to have you declared non-compos mentis. To make sure that dreadful man can’t hurt you again. Now, until two consultant psychiatrists co-sign the document, we cannot do anything … except keep you within the hospital. But that’s really only pro-forma. They always accept my recommendations.”
Willow gaped at the social worker. “How dare you! SPIKE!!!!!!!!!” Willow yelled, more in hope than expectation.
* * * *
“SPIKE!!!!!!!!!”
All three men looked up as Willow’s scream echoed throughout the emergency room. As one, they headed towards the sound of her cry. Spike led the way, with Giles only a pace behind, while Peter McKeon brought up the rear.
They all saw the confrontation. Willow’s hair was beginning to rise as she unconsciously drew power from her surroundings, while she continued to glare at the social worker.
“What is it pet? What’s wrong?” Spike called out as he ran towards his lover.
“Willow, we’re coming!” Giles shouted as he followed in Spike’s wake.
Willow looked over, saw Spike and Giles and then gestured. The door into the admittance area slid open and try as the receptionist might, she couldn’t make it close again. As Spike reached her, he slowed and took her in his arms.
“It’s all right love. I’m here now. What on earth are you wearing?”
“Don’t worry about that. This … woman wants to have me declared crazy! And she wants you prosecuted for wife beating!”
It was at this moment that the two police officers also arrived on the scene. They had been unable to find Willow and had come running at the screams.
“What is going on here?” The senior of the two asked.
“Well Willow called …”
“I heard a scream …”
“This woman needs to be held …”
“Everyone’s turning my reception area into a zoo!”
McKeon put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a pea-whistle and blew it. Very hard. The piercing shriek of the whistle echoed in the room as everyone stopped talking and looked over at the psychiatrist.
“That’s enough from everyone. I’m the senior consultant here and I’ll take charge. For now, would you two,” he said, indicating the policemen, “please obtain Ms Rosenberg’s version of events.” He turned to the social worker. “I will not sign any document suggesting committal or any declaration making anyone else Willow’s guardian for now. No discussion, no argument. And … you’re Marla Horrocks, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes I am. Have we met?”
McKeon nodded. “You also work out at the Glendale hospital don’t you? I used to consult there. We met some three years ago. I must say, you look remarkably good Marla. Especially considering you’re dead.” McKeon ignored the amazed looks he received and pressed on, knowing that he would lose the chance to reveal whatever was inhabiting Marla’s body if he did so.
The social worker looked up. “What on earth are you talking about Dr … McKeon wasn’t it?”
“Marla, I worked with you for some time. And I remember the discovery of your body. You were eviscerated, all your internal organs had been removed, and the forensic evidence suggested that they’d eaten at the crime scene. Ergo, you aren’t Marla.”
As McKeon expounded, the creature that had been posing as the social worker began to shimmer. It slowly expanded, changing shape as it did so. It grew to about nine feet in height, and its arms lengthened, taking on a gnarled and warty look. Vicious claws extended from its fingers while it’s legs thickened appreciably. The head took on a visage of terror made manifest, with glowing eyes, fangs sprouting from both its jaws and horns emerging jutting upwards from the forehead.
“So … discovered,” it growled in melodramatic fashion. “I will kill you all; beginning with the ‘Union of Abominations’,” it continued; looking directly at Willow and Spike.
As it reached out to take Willow, one of the policemen opened fire. The bullets ricocheted off the creature’s armoured skin, sending sparks in all directions. “So, you think you can fight back?” It snarled. Its left arm whipped around, disembowelling the policeman with one easy motion. The delay had, however, given both Spike and Willow time to begin to fight back.
Spike began by dropping almost to his knees and making a scythe kick, designed to unbalance the huge demon they were facing. The kick did make the creature wobble and rock, but no more. Spike rapidly rolled away as a foot was brought down towards him.
Willow realised her limitations. She knew that raw magical energy would be more efficient and cost her less than attempting to conjure anything. She began by throwing a flash of light at the creature’s eyes. Dazzled, it stepped back a pace and blinked, trying to re-focus. Spike got to his feet and delivered a series of savage kicks into its Achilles tendon, trying to at least damage it. The kicks did make the demon growl in pain, and Spike dodged away as it turned to again try and stomp on him.
The remaining policeman took careful aim, firing for the gigantic creature’s eyes. A rapid volley of shots rang out, but somehow, all the rounds just missed the demon’s eyes.
Devoutly wishing she had thought to also conjure her crystals--and now had the time to do so--Willow brought a second spell into action. There was a flash of light as the tiny redhead let a blast of pure energy surge toward the demon. The blast hit it full in the chest, and the creature began to smoke and smoulder where the beam hit it. It reeled backwards, growling and trying to avoid the energy that the little witch kept directed at it. The screeches of the beast became shriller as the damage done began to mount. Willow murmured, “Oh, shit!” And passed out, sprawled on the floor helplessly.
Spike realised that Willow’s effort had damaged the creature, and, as Giles stepped forward to drag Willow to safety, Spike slammed his fist into the glass partition. Selecting a large shard about two feet long, he ran directly at the demon, and, game face now in place jumped prodigiously, and thrust the shard deep into the creature’s chest, twisting back and forth, trying to damage as many vital organs as he could.
The blond vampire dropped back to the floor and sprinted for another shard, as the demon shrieked in agony. Spike this time went to the side and kicked at the Achilles tendons again. The creature dropped to its knees, still howling in pain and Spike thrust the second shard upwards into one of the eye sockets.
The beast howled one last time and collapsed, killed by the combined efforts of a human witch and demonic vampire.
“And who’s going to clear all this up? And pay for a new partition?” The survivors heard the inevitable voice of the receptionist.
* * * *
Willow came to again, moaning. “Oh Goddess, my head is killing me.”
“It’s all right pet, I’m here.”
She heard Spike’s voice from behind her. Realising he was cradling her head in his lap, she reached back to stroke his arms. “Love you,” she murmured softly. “We won?”
“Yes kitten, we won. And Giles drove us home. You didn’t stir when I carried you in.”
“Mmmmmmmm. Cuddles are nice.”
Spike chuckled, and so, to Willow’s chagrin, did Giles, until now silent.
“Willow, are you capable of talking coherently?” Giles asked in a soft voice.
“I think so. Can you help me sit up Spike?”
“Sure luv.” Spike gently pushed Willow upright, and then slid her around so that she was sitting, rather than lying in the four-seat couch that was the centrepiece of the living room.
“Willow, may I ask you a question?” Giles continued.
“Sure.”
“Why are you wearing all this … leather?”
Willow blushed and lowered her head. Then, a moment later lifted it to look at Giles in the half-light. “Are you sure you want the answer to that?”
“Er … perhaps not. Well, if you’re all right, I should be going. No, I’ll see myself out. You recover. That was an astonishing display of power earlier.” As Giles finished speaking he turned and walked to the door.
As the door shut, Spike looked over at his lover, still clad entirely in leather. “Tell me one thing pet. How come when I get concussed all I do is write sappy poetry, but when you do, you conjure up kinky clothing? Hang on a mo’ luv, I recognise the corset and the boots, but where did the skirt come from?”
Willow blushed a rich crimson. “When I summoned the clothes, I used the word desire. I’ve been eyeing this skirt for weeks and … I’ll return it tomorrow. I promise.”
Spike’s laughter filled the late night silence.
~Part: 4~ The Demon Drink
Two months after the end of part 3
Spike and Willow were very drunk. They had just returned from Xander and Anya’s wedding and had toasted the happy couple liberally.
“Goddess Spike, I think I’m gonna be sick!”
“Well, pet, remember to do it in the bowl, not next to it.” He giggled inanely. In his present state the comment seemed to be high art.
Willow glared at him, took a step towards the bathroom and fell over. “Oh bugger it! Who made the floor move? If I was sober this could be fun. Can we get a vibrating floor Spikey?”
“Bloody hell pet! If we got one of those, we’d never get anything done!”
“’Cept each other!” Willow laughingly slurred.
“My god! Where did you leave your inhibitions pet?”
“I think they’re under the gift table.” Willow giggled.
“Pet, you’re as pissed as a parrot!”
“No I’m not, I’m happyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy”
“Pissed drunk, not pissed off kitten.”
“Well, I’d agree with that. I’m definitely drunk and I’m still here, so I haven’t pissed off.” Willow giggled. She then tried to stand up and fell over again. “I like it down here, I can hold the world and stop it moving! Only … only, if I do that, everyone and everything will hurtle into space. Goddess Spike, should I hold onto the world?”
“Errrrrrr … no pet. I don’t wanna be an astronaut.” Spike replied, laughing helplessly.
“Oh,” Willow said. “I always did y’know. When I was little.”
“Really pet?”
“Uh huh.” Willow rolled onto her stomach, then pushed up onto all fours and crawled over to her lover. “I love you Spike,” she sighed as she collapsed next to him.
Spike looked over at the very drunk redhead. “I love you too pet.”
Willow closed her eyes, thought a moment and then asked, “Where would they be now?”
“Who?”
“Xander and Anya, silly.” Willow expanded, slapping Spike on the forearm. “On their honeymoon.”
“Errr … up to the hilt?”
Willow laughed and grinned back at Spike. “The real question, my drunken friend,” she slurred, “is who is up whom?”
Spike gaped at Willow and then began laughing. Willow joined in and curled up against him. Shortly thereafter, they slept.
* * * *
The phone, shilling loudly, cut through Willow’s sleep like a knife. “Goddess! Stop that!” She lurched to her feet and staggered to the phone. She fumbled a moment before picking it up “What?”
“Er … Willow?”
“Yes Giles. I’m just not feeling well.”
“That’s to be expected. You did consume rather a lot last night.”
“Oh, I know. I know. I’ll never do that again.”
“Yes, well. We all have these little events in our lives. Talking of which, some of Xander’s family got into a certain amount of … trouble after they left the reception.”
“What happened?”
“It appears that they went to what is called an ‘English Pub’, although I haven’t ever seen a real English pub here. Anyway, it’s called ‘The Sweeney’. From the little I’ve gathered so far, it’s quite new, but has already developed a somewhat unsavoury reputation. Xander’s Uncle Rory and his parents got into a major fight with some of the other patrons.”
“Goddess! Are they all right?”
“Just cuts and bruises. And assault charges of course.”
“What did they do?”
“According to the police, Mrs Harris smashed a full pint mug into the face of a man who she alleges was trying to … molest her.”
“She what? Goddess! What else happened?”
“Well, apparently Mr Harris er …” Giles looked down and consulted his notes. “Mr Harris was detained while holding a man’s beard in one hand and repeatedly kicking his victim in the groin. And Xander’s uncle Rory was demanding that the Miscegenation Act of 1868 be enforced, while hitting and beating anyone who came close to him.”
“There’s a Miscegenation Act in California?” Willow asked, shocked by what had happened.
“I have no idea, and I seriously doubt Rory does either,” Giles said rather acerbically. “Now Willow, you know Xander’s family better than anyone, is this behaviour at all within their normal range of expression?”
Willow thought for a moment before speaking. “Well, it is, except for his mother. But even for his dad and uncle the behavior is a little ... extreme. Xander has told me about incidents that were just as bad though.”
“Oh,” Giles said inadequately. “But Xander’s mother is definitely behaving out of character?”
Willow nodded. “Normally she wouldn’t challenge a mouse. Why are you being ask details guy? And please explain slowly, my head still hurts.”
Giles chuckled. “Poor Willow,” he said, his voice speaking volumes about his amusement at the little redhead being so badly hungover. “Well,” he continued after a moment’s thought, “I found a book that’s helped me with that infernal machine that you insist I have. I was able to get into the newspaper archives with it.” Giles sounded as pleased as punch as he told Willow.
“Giles, that’s so cool! Which book is it?”
“Um … er … ‘Computers for Dummies’ is the title,” Giles said quickly and indistinctly.
“I am so proud of you!” Willow bubbled enthusiastically. “So, what did you find out?”
“That there has been a series of fights, some of which have ended in near deadly assaults, that the police regularly patrol around there because of the levels of violence and to try and intimidate the kind of people that it usually attracts. It’s not an isolated incident, Willow, and the events are far too frequent for there not to be some kind of supernatural force at work.”
“So, we investigate or research?”
“Both. Tonight. I want you and Spike to go there and see what’s happening. Cordelia and I will handle the research. We’re short handed at present with Xander and Anya away. Cordelia will also, I hope, help me with the blasted machine.”
Willow chuckled. “Be good then, Giles. I’ve seen how you look at her.”
“Willow!” Giles sputtered. “She’s young enough to be my daughter. Well, she would be if I had been an exceptionally precocious teen.”
“Uh-huh.” Willow’s tone spoke volumes about Giles’ sensitivity to his age.
“Willow, be careful tonight. I know Spike and you are the most skilled fighters in our merry little band, but … there’s something that makes me uneasy about this.”
“We’ll be careful Giles. I promise.”
“Good. Bye Willow.”
* * * *
Spike and Willow walked into the bar, Spike chuckling as he began to tell Willow the story of the pub’s name. “It’s a person’s name pet. From before my time I think. Anyway, there was this bloke, Sweeney Todd, a barber by trade. And he ran a nice little barber’s shop on Fleet Street. … Yes pet, where the newspapers are now in London. Anyway … every so often, clients would disappear. For a long while no-one knew that it was the barber that was taking them. He was slitting their throats and sending ‘em down a chute into the basement where his wife was making ‘em into pies. Very good business it was too, I’m told. Anyway when he was found out, they all referred to him as ‘Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street.' And that’s who this pub’s named after.”
“That’s just so … gross Spike! Did it really happen?”
“I dunno pet. Thing is though, it’s either true or a very widely believed urban legend. Either way, I don’t really like a pub named after something like that. Then there’s the violence that’s happened here. I got nothing against violence pet, you know that, but this seems … off somehow.”
Willow nodded in response as she scanned for seats. The place was packed but she saw a couple leaving a corner booth and she pointed to it. “Hurry up Spike! We can sit.” She headed for the booth as nimbly as she could, seating herself in the just vacated booth. Spike followed and leaned on the table as he asked the little redhead, “What’s yours luv?”
“Uh … Coke?”
“Okay pet.”
Spike moved through the crowded pub to the bar, and sliding to the counter, caught the barman’s attention. “A Coke and a …” He scanned the bar selection. “A Bass, thanks”
The barman nodded and filled Spike’s order in silence, placing the drinks on the counter. Spike paid and took them back to the booth. As he sat he smiled at Willow. “Pet, you picked a good seat here. We can see almost the whole pub from here. And we have a wall at our backs.”
“Oh … good. I don’t like it here Spike. It’s wrong.”
“Who do you mean pet? Who’s wrong?”
“No, not who, the whole building feels … evil. In a nasty uncaring way.”
“As distinct from, say ... a kind, caring sort of evil like me? That what you're saying luv?”
Willow glared for a moment and then smiled a little. “It really does scare me here Spike. Jokes aside, I don’t like it here.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Really? Okay pet, let’s just be careful and watch. See what happens. If you get too freaked we can always leave.”
Willow nodded and almost seemed to huddle down in her chair. Spike began looking around and instantly started to see things that he would rather have not. People accidentally brushing against one another gained snarls and threats rather than apologies. Men pressured women far too intensely for dances or more. Women shrilled at and threatened perceived rivals. The whole building was a cauldron waiting to boil over. “I’ve seen more than enough pet, let’s go. You got anything in your bag of tricks to get us out quietly?”
Willow smiled and nodded. Taking a small blue crystal from her pouch she placed it on the table and murmured a word so quietly even Spike’s enhanced hearing could not detect it. “Shall we go … Master?” Willow asked teasingly and swaying her hips. “Don’t worry, we’re invisible. No-one can see me except you. Let’s go tell Giles about the place.”
* * * *
“So, everyone in there was much ruder and more aggressive than in a ‘normal’ …” Giles gestured the quote marks, “bar? Is that right?”
“Yeah Ripper, that’s right. But there was more. Willow sensed it. Hell I did too and I’m not a zap ‘em and wrap ‘em type. The place was a riot waiting to happen. And the hatred ... if I fed on emotions I’d have been stuffed for weeks.”
“Fed on emotions?” Cordelia asked urgently.
Spike nodded, Willow shuddered and Giles raised an eyebrow. Cordelia began to explain. “Well, ‘The Hyperion'--you know, the hotel formerly inhabited by my ex-boss--well, before we moved in it was inhabited by this paranoia demon thing … what was it called? A Thesaurus?”
“A Thesulac?” Giles asked, trying to suppress his amusement.
Cordelia nodded. “That’s the one. Anyway, this demon made everyone in the hotel go berserk, like years ago, and they hanged Angel. And we had to kill it before we could move in.”
“Hanged him?” The question came as a chorus.
“Duh! But not really, since Angel decided to let the demon eat everyone in the hotel after he got loose.” Cordelia added waspishly.
“Well, why don’t we look at the Thesulac as a possibility?” Giles asked. If Willow can use the machine, the three of us can use the books?”
* * * *
The next night, they returned to Giles to assess their findings after a long night of research had eventually paid dividends.
“Well,” Giles said, starting off the proceedings, “it seems that the behaviours we’re seeing at ‘The Sweeney’ do correspond to the presence of a Thesulac demon. Increased reports of violence, misinterpretations and misunderstandings escalating to violence and so forth.” Giles paused, took off his glasses, cleaned and replaced them.
“Now, Cordelia and I worked on the ritual to make the Thesulac materialise today. Her memories of the events in Los Angeles helped me a lot.” He smiled gently at the young brunette before continuing. “The demon is very dangerous when it becomes corporeal … becomes solid,” Giles clarified. “It’s very strong, very fast and its tentacles are very flexible.”
“I did those jokes in LA,” Cordelia interjected, hoping to keep the discussion on track, grinning at Spike as he appeared somewhat disappointed his joke had been shot down before he could even make it.
“Anyway,” Giles picked up the thread of his briefing, “I have the ritual to summon the demon--it can only be killed while it’s corporeal--and we have to use something potent, such as electricity, to kill it.”
Willow smiled. “I can do that. I can charge a crystal repeatedly and detonate it. It’d be like setting off a magical explosive, with all the energy focused on the one thing. In this case the demon. And if I link it specifically to a Thesulac …” Willow paused for a moment “It shouldn’t hurt anyone or anything else.”
“That’s good pet, I don’t really fancy the friendly fire type thing,” Spike remarked dryly.
“That really brings us to the question of ‘when’,” Giles asked. “I suggest that we do this as soon as we possibly can.”
“Well, what about after closing tonight?” Spike asked. “Does anyone have problems with that?”
“I think we can probably handle it whenever,” Willow said. “After all,
all we have to do is materialise it and then launch the crystal. What could
go wrong?”
~Part 5~ The Demon Drink, part 2
Follows immediately after the end of part 1
The four checked their weapons and equipment one last time. Giles looked through the ritual he had transcribed and made certain that the other ritual items he needed were all present. Cordelia brushed her hair after looking through her bag once more. The crossbow and arrows were all present and in working order. Willow looked pale and drawn after performing a series of incantations to ensure that the power levels inside the crystal she intended to use on the Thesulac were high enough. She ate chocolate mechanically and slumped on the couch, trying to regain her strength. Spike drank, making sure that he was as fit as he could be. If this demon was as tough as the watcher said, he knew he’d need to be on the top of his form.
Giles stood, “Are we ready?”
The other three all joined in a chorus of “No!” as they got up and began to trail out to Giles’ car.
* * * *
The pub loomed in front of them, somehow looking dark and forbidding. It was empty, of course, being so late.
“We need to get inside,” Giles whispered to the others.
“Leave it to me,” Spike answered easily. As he spoke he moved over to the front door and bent over the lock. Less than a minute later, the door swung silently open.
Spike led the small group in, while Giles brought up the rear. Willow conjured small lights for everyone. She had designed the spell so that no light leaked outside, which allowed the group to work in relative comfort. “Remember that I have to end the spell before anyone leaves though,” she reminded them all. “Otherwise the lights become visible.”
Giles opened the book, retrieved the orb he needed from his bag and gave Cordelia the magical powder to create the summoning circle. As Giles chanted, Cordelia began to look confused. “Willow,” she hissed, “something’s wrong. The building should be shaking.”
Giles reached the final crescendo of the incantation and waited. At first, nothing happened at first. Then, a disembodied voice spoke, “That would have worked wonderfully if there was a Thesulac here. There isn’t. This is my place. Begone!” There was a flash of light, and suddenly, all four were back in the car, looking decidedly confused.
“Is anyone else as confused as I am?” Cordelia asked.
* * * *
All four sat in Giles’ living room, totally confused by the events of the night. “At least we know it’s not a Thesulac,” Cordelia observed. “Yes, I know, stating the obvious. But hey, it helps in the research.”
“We also know that there is some kind of demon there.” Giles added. “A rather powerful one. It translocated us all completely; even our possessions were in the car. And it did it all at once.”
Willow nodded. “But we have no idea what kind of demon it is.”
Spike nodded at Willow’s comment. “It’s bloody powerful. I felt my demon cringing when it spoke.”
Giles raised an eyebrow, Cordelia looked shocked and Willow was astonished. “What?” Spike asked in response to the looks. “Just ‘cause I’m the Big Bad, it doesn’t mean that I’m stupid. Whatever’s in that building scared the shit out of the demon inhabiting me. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna run and hide though.”
The phone shrilled, catching them all by surprise. “Hello?” Giles asked as he picked up the receiver. He began to nod as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone.
“Of course, Wesley. As long as you and Gunn are willing to accept that Spike is now working with us, and that bygones are bygones.”
“All right, I’ll see you all in the morning. Be careful Wesley.”
Giles turned towards the three expectant faces looking at him. “Wesley and Gunn are relocating here. They haven’t had a lot of luck in the past year and they need to leave Los Angeles. They’ve been threatened several times, and Gunn only just avoided being shot. They’re bringing a friend with them, a chap called Lorne. At least Wesley may have some ideas about the kind of demon inhabiting the pub.”
* * * *
The following evening, Spike and Willow walked into Giles’ apartment, happy and glowing from a day of gentle lovemaking. Spike was whistling while Willow hummed, a little tunelessly, under her breath.
“Now, there’s two happy little lovebirds,” came an unfamiliar voice. “And, oh my! What a long road you have together.”
Both Spike and Willow looked at the strange voice and were surprised by the green demon sitting casually on Giles’ lounge as if he owned it. He stood. “I’m Lorne, and I couldn’t help reading you as you came in. It was like billboards. You kids are so happy it thrills me.” The smile was open and genuine, and Lorne’s red eyes twinkled with a happy mischieviousness as he spoke.
“Er … I’m Willow,” the little redhead said, introducing herself, “and this is Spike.”
Lorne flashed an appraising eye up and down over Spike. “Honey,” he said to Willow. “I love your taste.”
“He’s pretty darn cute, isn’t he?” Cordelia’s voice came from the kitchen.
“I heard that!” Willow shouted at Cordelia, trying to sound offended and then giggling slightly.
“Don’t worry cheekbones, I’m not hitting on you. Even if I wanted to play with someone else’s toy, there are some … incompatibilities that just can’t be overcome.”
Spike smiled and sat down, pulling Willow onto his lap. “Yeah, I’m about as taken as it’s possible to be. And I’m guessing you know about what I am too.”
“Oh yeah. A soulless vampire with an extraordinary capacity to love and care for another. I’d love to have met you as a human.”
Willow giggled. “Perhaps not. Spike was … different. Very different.”
“I meant about the … chip,” Spike clarified.
“Oh that, yeah. Giles explained it all. In agonising detail. Honestly, that man can go on and on can’t he?” Willow smiled and smothered a giggle.
She was about to answer when the door opened. Giles, Wesley and Gunn all walked in together. “I really don’t like that place.” Wesley remarked.
“It wasn’t exactly welcoming the way they are back home, was it?” Giles added.
Spike and Willow looked up while Cordelia came in from the kitchen. She looked quite at home there, Willow thought. ‘I wonder if they’re … it would be so sweet if they were.’
Lorne leant over and whispered in her ear “Not yet, but they will be soon.”
Willow jumped, and then smiled. ‘Good,’ she thought, ‘both Giles and Cordy need some happiness.’
“The events and descriptions all seem to match a Thesulac,” Wesley said without even greeting anyone. It was quite obvious that he was focused on the problem at hand rather than social niceties. “It’s quite a knotty little problem.”
”Well, don’t be polite then,” Cordelia said acerbically.
Wesley looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s good to see you again Miss Rosenberg.” He also nodded to Spike.
Spike rolled his eyes at the combination of fear and nervousness emanating from Wesley. “Still haven’t got over that ‘He’s all soulless thing,’ have you watcher boy?” Spike asked nastily.
Wesley looked over, offended. “I know you can’t harm me, so you may as well keep your innuendo and sniping to yourself. Out of respect for Miss Rosenberg, I won’t attack you, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you, just co-operate.”
Spike just raised an eyebrow and dismissed Wesley’s comments with nothing more than body language.
“I don’t understand,” Willow asked of the group in general, “if the evidence we have points to it being a Thesulac, but it’s not; then what is it?”
“We’re unsure, Willow. We really don’t know.” Giles sighed.
Lorne looked up quizzically. “Some kind of demonic baddie has laired in a bar? That’s … just evil. Is it a karaoke bar?”
Willow sighed, “And a friend of ours, his family is in lots of trouble because of the things they did there. But we think they were under the demon's control. At least I hope they were, but with the Harrises ... Oh, and no, not a karaoke bar.”
“Steady there honey. You’re so worried about your friend’s family that you’re bombarding me with images. Where did you get all that magical chutzpah anyway?”
“What? Oh … practice mainly I guess,” Willow answered. “And what do you mean, bombarding you with images?”
“Honey, you’re scared for your friend, it comes off you in waves. You don’t know how he’ll cope with seeing his mother in court, you’re afraid for his career too. All that puts this at the forefront of your mind. With your magical abilities, you’re like … a really good Marshall amplifier, only cuter. And I also think I know the answer to your dilemma.” Lorne said, gesturing grandly.
“What’s that?” Willow and Giles asked simultaneously. Immediately everyone in the room was alert.
“The images young witchy-girl here was sending to me tells me that the bar isn’t possessed or occupied by a demon. The bar is the demon.”
“What?”
”How’s that possible?”
“Bollocks!”
“Really Lorne, that does seem a little far-fetched.”
“Okay, okay. Explanations for you. Music comes from inside someone, right? But, sometimes, music can take on a life of it’s own, like Hendrix’s amplifier feedback did. Well, this is sort of like that. Some demons have no real form. So, when they enter a relatively ‘normal’ dimension they can choose to take on any form they want. Often they feed on emotions or other mental aspects of their prey. I think this demon chose to be a bar to get itself a captive food supply.”
“So how did the bar get there?” Cordelia asked.
“I don’t know sweet cakes. I can only guess that it appeared on a site without anything there.”
“More to the point, though, is how do we get rid of the demon,” Giles asked.
“Do I look like one of your books? I can’t answer that because I don’t know. And, by the way, once I reopen ‘Caritas’ here in Sunnydale, I want you to perform. I’ve heard about your voice.”
Giles looked surprised, and Willow explained to him. “I know some people heard you when they were here a few years back. When you were singing in the coffee shop. Guess they told Lorne.”
Giles nodded and then began to think. Soon he began to speak, unconsciously giving instructions, metaphorically marshalling his troops. “Wesley, can you start with the old languages. I’ll help in a moment. Spike, could you go through the Latin texts, please. Cordy, Gunn, could you work on the English language books. Willow, could you start by working on the database? I doubt there’s anything there but we should check. And after that could you assist either Spike or Cordelia?”
Gunn looked at Wesley as he asked, rhetorically, “Who died and made him General Grant?” He was therefore very surprised when Spike answered.
“Did you know Grant was a slave owner?”
“D’you what?” Gunn responded.
Spike looked up. “Before the war, Grant was a slave owner. He was also a lush, but that’s neither here nor there. Just thought you should know who’s name you were invoking.”
Willow looked up, suppressing giggles. She knew Spike could be mean, but she loved it when he did it like that, by challenging beliefs and stereotypes. He really was an intellectual and a scholar, she realised happily, and not for the first time. And that was a part of what was so attractive about him. She didn’t know for sure whether Grant was a slave owner, and didn’t much care if the truth be told, but the look on Gunn’s face was priceless. She also knew full well Spike could be lying in an effort to protect Giles. He was odd that way, she thought. It was if the Scoobies had become his new ‘family’. And he was as ferocious about protecting them as he had been with his previous, vampiric, family.
Gunn was still processing the information when Spike followed up. “Listen, let Ripper do what he does best, and help out. You aren’t an idiot, I can see that, so accept his lead when we research and worry about social niceties later.”
“All right already. I was just asking!”
“Good, so start with this.” Spike threw Gunn a large leather bound tome, edged in copper fittings. Wesley moaned and Giles winced before Gunn caught it.
* * * *
“Yes! I have it!” Wesley shot up out of his chair so fast that he sent several of the texts he had previously consulted flying.
Everyone looked up, even Lorne, who had long since got bored and was idly flicking through Giles’ record collection.
“There’s a species of demon, called the Deng-Taroni, who appear to be able to manifest as any inanimate object they choose, but only inanimate objects. They feed on emotions, all emotions but they much prefer the dark ones. Manifesting as a public house is perfect, the happiness of clientele would be as nourishing, although less tasty, as the violence and anger.”
“Sort of like a demon who has to eat his vegetables?” Cordelia asked.
Wesley looked up and blinked. “I suppose it’s an analogy,” he acknowledged.
“Anything there about getting rid of it?” Spike asked.
Wesley nodded. “Yes. We’re fortunate in several senses. Firstly, the demon can’t respond physically to us. It’s locked into the shape of the bar. However, that doesn’t mean it’s defenceless. Anything within the bar that’s moveable can, and probably will, be hurled at us telekinetically. Further,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall any questions, “the demon cannot move at all … because buildings can’t. So it cannot run away other than by returning to its place of origin.”
“So,” Cordelia began, “what you’re saying is that we should really have two groups. One with people doing the spell to return it, and the other with people to protect them, with like … shields?”
“Well, that would work, except for one thing. We need everyone performing the ritual. All present at the ritual must partake. The book is very specific about that.”
“What does the ritual entail, Wesley?” Giles asked. He wanted this issue resolved as quickly as possible. He hoped that with the banishing of the demon, the Harris’s legal problems would also disappear or at least, if there was no longer a scene of crime, make the various issues confused.
“The usual sort of material components that one would expect. In this case, it’s hensbane, some anthracite, salt, two live toads and blood of a transvestite?” Wesley’s voice ended the sentence in a sharply rising pitch and questioning tone.
“Bugger,” Spike said dryly. “We’re all out of that. Unless of course you have a secret you want to share.”
Wesley looked up at Spike. “Don’t be faecetious. We need one component. Do you have any idea how to obtain it?”
Spike shrugged. “There’s a university here. Show me a campus without a gay group would ya? Well, perhaps there would be the disturbingly named Oral Robert’s University … but any normal campus.”
Giles looked over and grinned. “It’s times like this Spike, when I wonder why we ever thought you were one of the baddies.”
Spike looked back at Giles feeling, in equal parts, offended, pleased, amused and befuddled. “Er, thanks Ripper. I think.”
“So, blood of a transvestite eh? Pity the poof isn’t around innit, pet. Gods, what am I saying!”
Willow looked up, shocked for a split second before she realised what Spike had actually said. Then she smiled. Immediately after that, her curiosity got the better of her. “Are you being serious, or just being you?”
Spike grinned wickedly. “Well, luv, mainly just being me. Although there was that one time that the Master got totally pissed with Peaches and made him …” He trailed off at the looks he received from the rest of the group. “Later pet,” he suggested.
“If we could get back to the central theme of our discussion,” Wesley said peevishly, “what are we going to do about this? We only need a very small sample.”
There was a chorus of shrugs and muttered “I dunno’s,” from everyone.
Willow looked up. “I have an idea,” she offered tentatively. “Lorne, I don’t want to stereotype or anything … but do you know any drag queens back in LA?”
“Well … one or two. They’d come to ‘Caritas’ to try out new shows.”
“Good. Any of them owe you favours?”
“I see where you’re going, cutie. And yes, there’s one who does. He’s got the most to die for voice, like whats-her-name from ‘Shocking Blue.’ I think I can go and visit, ask a favour.”
“So, Giles concluded. We can get some sleep and convene again tomorrow night, after Lorne has got us a sample for the ritual.”