Mad Bad & Dangerous To KnowBy DM Evans
Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.
Remember - Christina Rossetti
"I think you need your head examined," Faith said, looking up at the moon. The night was sweltering but we kept the campfire going to keep the mosquitoes down. They didn't bother me, other than the nerve-plucking buzzing, but everyone was getting sucked dry. I was jealous of the mindless creatures. Pig's blood couldn't compare to the rich bouquet of what flowed in human veins. My fangs ached in their sockets.
"This is a good hiding place. You can go back in the air conditioning," I said, pointing to the RV. We had driven for four straight days practically non-stop over two thousand miles to the Florida Everglades.
"That's because sane people don't camp in a swamp in the height of summer," she shot back, sitting in one of the foldable camp chairs we had bought.
"I didn't know it could be this hot," Connor said.
He sprawled on top of the picnic table, stripped to his shorts. Faith wore her bra and underpants. I had argued against it until she showed me the swimsuit alternative she had gotten when we stopped briefly in Georgia to get Connor clothes that fit him. The bra and knickers covered far more than that electric blue bikini. She reeked of bug spray and the air was ripe with the scent of citronella. Tiki lamps filled with the stuff surrounded the encampment. We exuded tackiness, especially since Lorne had bought pink flamingo lights to add to our touristy cover.
"It's hot and I'm bored," Faith groused.
"We can go in and watch a DVD," Connor said.
We had stopped in Nebraska and traded the big RV for two smaller, more modern ones because it looked like our run was going to be even more prolonged. All six of us in one RV was wearing on everyone's nerves and if we needed to split up, now we could. Faith, Connor and I shared one. I should have switched Faith for Fred, given how blatantly Connor was flirting with Faith.
Each day since we left South Dakota Connor got a little better. We could all see it now. He spent less time withdrawn and motionless. Granted, he could watch amazing amounts of television totally stone-still but he'd talk to us if we spoke to him. At least now he got up and did chores if needed but not without grumbling. If we wanted Connor to do something without a fuss, all we had to do was have Faith ask him to do it.
But switching places wasn't possible. Fred seemed to want to stay with Wes. Connor still didn't like Lorne and I didn't want him alone with Wes and Fred. I had this need to hold Connor close. Still, I didn't want Faith and Connor alone in the RV. A horny teenager and a bohemian girl didn't need to be alone together even though Faith seemed to consider Connor off limits; maybe due to his age, or his current mental instability or that he was my son. But I didn't trust this to last.
"I'm sick of being cooped up. One more minute in there and I'll kill someone," Faith said, getting up, going to the cooler full of beer we had gotten before coming into the Glades.
"We went hiking today. That was interesting," Connor said then added for my benefit, "We saw alligators."
"It's a swamp. Wes and Fred were fascinated. I've got a sweat rash on my ass," Faith grumbled and Connor, of course, had to glance that way. Was I that embarrassing to my father at that age? Yes, I probably was. "Want a beer?"
"No," I said, sharply. "And neither do I."
"Why aren't I allowed to do fun things?" Connor groused.
"You're too young for beer." Could my tone be any more like my own Father's?
"What did you do when you were my age?" He rolled on the table to look at me. "I bet you drank and had girlfriends."
Yes, there were times Connor made me long for those not-so-long-ago days of total silence. "Those were very different times back then," I said. "My father was very disappointed in me because I was a bad son."
Connor's brow lifted. "Are you disappointed in me?"
I got up from the camp chair and went over to him. I brushed his hair back and he wormed away. I didn't blame him. What teen was comfortable with a doting parent? "The only thing I'm disappointed in was missing your whole life. But that wasn't your fault."
His sun burnt face went contemplative. "Why was your father disappointed in you?"
I didn't want him to learn about that but I had promised to be honest with him about my past. "I was lazy. I wouldn't work. All I did was waste your grandfather's money on women and wine."
"See?" His eyes filled with accusations. "Fun stuff."
"And all those women and alcohol got me killed in an alley," I said sternly. The last thing any of us needed was for Connor to take after me in that respect.
"Is that how it happened?" Faith asked, collapsing back in the camp chair, running the beer bottle along her neck.
"Who did it?" Connor asked.
"It's part of that long story I promised you but I don't think it's time for it yet," I hedged. "I guess it was an easier death than syphilis or being knifed by an irate husband or father, either of which was probably where I was headed."
"Who?" Connor persisted. "Was it Mom?"
I took a step towards the fire. "Why did you say that?"
He sat up, lifting his hair off the back of his sweaty neck. "Dunno."
I debated telling him the truth. Could he handle it? "Yes, it was."
"She made you a vampire." He shifted, his shorts nearly sliding off his perspiration-slick body. He had no hips to hold them on. Maybe Lindsey was right, I should be concerned at how thin Connor was. "Were you together a long time?"
"Over a century," I said. "And I will tell you about this when we don't have Wolfram and Hart hanging over our heads."
"Will that ever happen?" he asked.
"Uh, probably not," Faith put in unhelpfully as the other RV door opened.
Fred bounced out with a bag of marshmallows in one hand and chocolate in the other. Lorne followed with tin foil and graham crackers. Wes trailed after them, pausing to grab a beer.
"We're making s'mores," Fred announced gaily.
"What's a s'more?" Connor asked, scratching at the sad patch of fuzz between his pecs that passed as chest hair. Was I this androgynous at his age? I doubted it.
"You'll love it." Fred ruffled his hair. The next stop we make I'm going to insist on a hair cut for him. He was starting to have the same bad hairdo I had in the 70's.
"Want some help?" Faith asked.
"It's everyone for themselves, except Connor. You and I can show him how," Fred said.
As Fred started putting graham crackers in a boat of tin foil, Faith got some thin branches, sharpening them into stakes. Okay, marshmallow stakes but still, Slayers with sharp sticks made me nervous.
"Here, Connor, like this." Faith stabbed some marshmallow and handed one stick to Connor. She put her stick in the fire.
"Now what?" he demanded.
"Cook that puppy."
Connor plunged his into the flames while I wondered what a s'more might taste like. I could try one but the flavors would be so muted, it would be a waste. Connor brought the stick up sharply, the marshmallow a ball of fire on the end.
"Is it supposed to do that?" He shoved the stick at Faith who jumped back.
"You're too impatient," Fred said, putting the tin foil boats on the rock of the fire ring. "You're supposed to cook it slowly, get it all golden."
"Some people like them crispy," Faith said, her marshmallow also ablaze.
Fred helped Connor construct the s'mores while Lorne launched into some campfire songs; hardly the way to be inconspicuous but I understood the need for release. Wes sat next to me in Faith's abandoned chair.
"We haven't seen any signs of Wolfram and Hart since we left Missouri. Is it too much to hope they realize we're going to be difficult and expensive to catch?"
"Way too much to hope for," I replied.
He smiled bitterly. "I know. At least Lindsey's information is proving useful. Combined with what Giles' people are uncovering, we should be able to cut off their reinforcements. Willow hopes to have the law offices blue prints and security systems hacked into soon."
"She's good at that," I said, remembering how many times Willow's computer skills had come to Buffy's rescue.
"And that's a good thing. We're all getting weary of this running." There was a hint of caution in his voice. Wes didn't want to sound like he was laying blame.
"I know, Wes. I offered you all the chance to go your own ways. It's me and Connor they want most of all."
"True and the point we argued last time hasn't changed, we're a team. We're not abandoning anyone." Wes took a swig of his beer. "And if Wolfram and Hart are after us all, we stand a better chance together than apart."
"I appreciate it, Wes," I said then looked over at the campfire hearing Connor laugh. It was such a strange sound, so foreign for him. I saw he had dribbled melted chocolate onto his chin and Faith was cleaning it up with a finger. I guess I should be glad she didn't use her tongue. Of course, her popping her finger into her mouth, sucking it clean wasn't helping. I noticed; Wes noticed and Connor most definitely noticed. Wonder what the chances of getting him to trade those flimsy shorts for something more concealing were?
"Connor seems to be making amazing progress in these last few days," Wes said.
"Seeing Darla helped break him out of his stupor." I stretched my legs out in front of me, trying to relax. "I think she gives him a sense of family."
"But it's a delusion," Wes said, setting his empty beer bottle aside.
"No, Wes," I said softly, almost not wanting to share this private information. "I've seen her twice."
One of his eyebrows stabbed upwards. "Interesting. Well, hopefully this will continue with less little..bumps along the way."
"Is that your way of saying Connor's prone to brattish outbursts?" I smiled.
"He's a teenager." Wes smirked. "I'd be worried if he wasn't a brat."
"Point taken. Connor, how do you like that, s'more?" I called.
He beamed widely with that weird smile again, his eyes dancing. "I could eat these every day."
"Chocolate solves all sorts of problems," Fred assured him. "Want us to make you one, Lorne?"
"Sure, sweets."
As she started it, someone screamed. We all looked around trying to orientate on the noise. More screams followed. These weren't screams of kids at play like we'd heard earlier. The winds shifted as Wes and Faith ran for the RV's and the weapons caches. A terrible stench came with the winds.
"The giants again?" Connor asked, flaring his nostrils. "No. Smells different." He snagged an axe out of the trunk Faith dragged out and raced off barefoot.
"Connor, not alone " I bellowed and he didn't listen. "Damn it "
Faith showed the same restraint. I looked at the remains of my team as we armed ourselves. "You and me, Wes," I said.
"Lorne, Fred, you're back up."
No one argued which surprised me on some level. Connor and Faith had caught up to the reeking creature. What few other campers were here had already dispersed far and wide. There only seemed to be one creature. The stink was so bad Wes and Fred's eyes were watering. The creature reminded me of those weird amalgam creatures the Greeks dreamed up. Its body was long and seemed more at home on all fours but it could go up on its hind legs as it proved, taking a swipe at Faith. She seemed off her game, her eyes tearing from the reek.
Its gray body was hairless and sleek, probably good for going through the swamp. Connor tried to attack it from the back only to be knocked off his feet by the thing's horse-like tail. It pinned Connor with a paw. The creature's wolfish head swiveled after my son but Faith shot at it with her crossbow. She missed her target as a new player slammed into her.
"Play fair, Faith," Gunn said, smashing a fist into her face, taking her off her feet.
"Damn it," I cried. I didn't want to have to face Gunn down again. "Wes, help Connor. Gunn's mine."
Wes took a bead on the creature with his crossbow while Connor tried to wrest it's paw off him by grabbing its long, rabbit-like ears. The arrow tore along the creature's side. Gunn stepped on Faith's throat as he came after me. "Happy for a rematch," he said. His punch to my jaw was solid but so was mine.
I shook off the blow, seeing my son back on his feet, giving the monster a kick. Gunn glanced back, his lips skinning back from his new fangs. "Damn. Long Ears wasn't for the unnatural little terror. It was for Faith."
"Sorry to disappoint," she said, taking Gunn's legs out from under him. He should have realized it would take more than what he gave her to keep her down.
"Wes, keep away from that thing. If it was meant to kill Faith..." I yelled before Gunn scrambled to his feet, catching Faith's punch.
He flipped her over his shoulder straight into me. We both crashed to the ground. Gunn raised his clawed hand to tear out Faith's throat but a crossbow bolt sprouted in his thigh. He staggered back, cursing. His head snapped around, his eyes flashing greenish-gold like a cat's in moonlight. Gunn growled at Fred who held our last crossbow.
"You're going to be sorry, bitch." He started for her.
"I already am," Fred said, fumbling to reload the bow.
While Wes took another shot at the monster, Faith and I untangled ourselves and went after Gunn. I dragged him away from Fred and Faith kicked the bolt deeper into Gunn's thigh. He howled and slashed her with his claws. Hearing Faith grunt, I knew he had scored a hit. To get a clear shot to Gunn's throat in order to drop him, I spun Gunn around as he dug into his pocket. His hand came up with a plastic gun in it. I started at the bright blue thing for a moment. It was ludicrous, a toy in battle then just as he pulled the trigger, I knew what it was.
The first blast of holy water struck me square in the face, blinding me. I turned, tossing my arms over my face as Gunn unloaded the entire squirt gun on me. I couldn't help crying out; it was like acid eating into my flesh. I heard the thunk of a crossbow bolt but no cries of pain. Fred must have missed. Where the hell was Lorne?
"Come on, Long Ears. Time to book," Gunn said.
I felt hands on me but I couldn't scent who it was over the stench of the monster and the smell of my burnt flesh. Blisters were popping up all over my face and hands as I yelled for someone to go after Gunn. I thought Lorne answered he was.
"Angel, are you okay?" Fred asked.
"I'll be fine. Check Faith," I said. "Is Gunn getting away?"
"He's too fast for any of us," Wes said.
"Angel " Lorne's voice was sharp, frightened. "Get over here if you can."
"This is not good," Wes cried.
"What is it? I can't see," I said. Someone took my hand. By the strength she pulled me along with, the scent of blood overriding everything else, it had to be Faith. "Faith, are you all right?" I rubbed my watery eyes, feeling the blisters on my lids bursting.
"Better shape than you."
"What's happening?"
"Connor's down," she said, no nonsense.
I felt my dead heart fall to my feet. I tried not to let it show as Faith led me to where my son was lying on the sand. I could hear him panting and my vision was beginning to clear just enough for me to see a blob writhing on the ground.
"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, trying to find my way to the ground without falling on him.
"I saw him collapse. He staggered a bit and went down," Lorne said.
"I don't smell blood," I said. "Connor, what happened?"
"I...feel...so cold."
"Did it bite you? Scratch you?" My mind screamed, 'poison.'
"No...why...what's happening to me?" His voice was agonizingly plaintive.
I couldn't see his face but I heard his fear. I felt for him, latching onto a shoulder. His bare skin was incredibly hot under my palm. "He's fevered."
"Let's get home to the RV," Wes said. "I can't examine him here in the dark."
"Can you carry him back, Wes?" I asked. "Faith and I are hurt."
"We'll take care of him, Angel-cakes," Lorne said.
Faith dragged me back to the RV. Fred was there already with the first aid kit.
"How bad are you hurt, Faith?" Fred asked.
"Got it in the gut but I don't think it's too bad," Faith said. "Angel's face and hands are a mess."
"I'll heal," I mumbled. "Take care of Faith."
"Tilt your head back, Angel," Fred insisted and I obeyed. Cool water ran across my eyes. "I don't know if that will help but if there's any holy water still there this might dilute it."
My vision cleared a bit "Thank you."
Fred nodded and tore open a packet, removing the large square of gauze and squirted it with antibiotic ointment. She pressed it to Faith's belly, which was scored by claw marks. "Hold this," Fred ordered and while Faith complied, she taped it in place. "I had to shoot Charles," she said in a quiet tone.
"I'm sorry, Fred. I know that wasn't easy but you saved Faith," I replied, not very helpfully. I couldn't concentrate on her pain, or Faith's or even my own, not until I knew what was wrong with Connor.
"I don't understand how Charles can be doing this." Fred's voice cracked.
"Ain't him," Faith said. "Wolfram and Hart fucked with him."
Before I could interject something, the RV door banged open. Lorne and Wes carried Connor in. His pale skin was red and blotchy all over his body. He shook uncontrollably. They put him in his bed. I sat on the edge on it.
"So cold," he mumbled again and I wadded the covers around him, wincing as my blistered hands cracked and oozed. "What's wrong with me?" His blue eyes were wide, fear whirling in them.
I had to stop myself from smoothing his hair with my gory hand. "I don't know, son." I looked over my shoulder at my friends. "Wes, could that thing have been poisonous?"
"I don't know. This doesn't look like poison." Wes fumbled in the first aid kit and came up with a thermometer. "Connor, I'm going to put this under your tongue. Leave it there." He turned to Fred. "Gunn called that thing Long Ears. Can you and Lorne start the research while I look over Connor?"
"Of course." Lorne put a hand on Fred's slim shoulder. "Come on, hun."
They went back to the other RV where the books were. The thermometer beeped and Wes eased it from Connor's mouth. He scowled reading it.
"A hundred and two."
"That...bad?" Connor asked, shivering.
"You have a high fever." Wes shook his head. "This doesn't look like any poison I know."
"Kinda looks like he has the flu," Faith said.
"Flu?" Connor asked, reaching for my hand but stopped, his eyes widening a bit seeing my bubbled, red flesh.
"Faith means you're sick," I said.
He shook his head. "Never been sick."
Wes took the covers down a bit, making Connor lie flat. Wes examined what looked like hives, no more like welts, that covered Connor's chest. "Do you feel sick to your stomach, Connor?"
"Feel very weak...cold, itchy."
Wes' fingers went to Connor's neck, probing. "His lymph nodes feel swollen...I guess. I'm not a doctor but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be able to find them so easily. Maybe that thing infected him."
"I've seen that before. A mystical Chumash warrior gave Xander syphilis and small pox and some other diseases that developed quickly," I said.
"Xander had syphilis?" Faith asked worriedly.
"Just for a day. Could that be what that thing does? Infect people?" I demanded to know.
"I have no idea, Angel. But we have places to look. We'll start by cross-referencing Florida and the name Long Ears. In the mean time, keep Connor warm and give him some aspirin to take his fever down," Wes said. "Faith, could you please bandage Angel's hands for him?"
"No prob."
Wes left and Faith got Connor the aspirin. He was too weak to even sit up and take them. I held him up and she held the water glass. I eased him back onto the bed while Faith got the gauze for my hands.
"I'm scared, Dad."
I barely heard that whisper. "It'll be okay, Connor," I lied. Somehow, I knew this was going to get a lot worse before it got better.