This world is older than any of you know. Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons demons walked the Earth. They made it their home, their... their Hell. But in time they lost their purchase on this reality. The way was made for mortal animals, for, for man. All that remains of the old ones are vestiges, certain magicks, certain creatures... -Giles in The Harvest
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“Help?” Buffy exhaled loudly and closed her eyes. Angel stood before her, staring at her with his best tormented expression and she felt like a ton of bricks had been sewn into her stomach. Opening her eyes, she glanced heavenward and snapped, “This isn’t funny, God.”
Angel stepped forward and reached for her bag, but she brushed past him and tossed it on the sofa in the living room, mumbling as she went. “Okay, someone up there must really hate me because I doubted this could get more complicated and then there you are. Complicated times ten!”
“I’m sorry.” Angel glanced at Joyce nervously, unsure of how to act around her and unable to hide his discomfort.
Joyce seemed to take a cue and said, “I’ve got to get up early.”
Buffy watched her mother go up the stairs and turned back toward Angel. “Who called you here?”
“Is it important?”
“Was it Willow? Giles?” Buffy searched his face and then nodded. “It was Giles. What did he tell you?”
“It wasn’t just Giles. Cordelia sees things now and she saw you in a hospital gown. You were badly injured, Buffy. I called Giles myself and he filled me in on what’s been happening here.” Angel shifted his weight from one foot to the other and clasped his hands in front of him. “I had to come.”
“No.” She sat down and ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head as if she wanted to wake up from the dream. There was no way this was actually happening. “You didn’t have to come. You didn’t have to leave, you didn’t have to make all my decisions and you didn’t have to hurt me. You did it because you wanted to.”
Angel had been expecting a harsh reaction from her, but this was too much. “You think I ever wanted to hurt you?”
“You must have.” She shot back, then rose to her feet and grabbed her bag. “Dammit, I forgot about patrolling. Just, go back to Los Angeles, Angel. Live whatever it is that you call a life and let me live mine.”
“You’re in trouble.” He said, stopping her from leaving the living room. “I can’t go back to LA and leave you to handle something that can get you killed.”
“You left me so I could have a life.” She stepped back and spread her arms wide, urging him to stare her up and down. “Here it is and I'm still in danger. That didn't stop you from leaving before. It’s the exact same as it was and the only difference is that you aren’t here anymore. I’d like to keep it that way.” Scowling, she started past him again.
“Giles said that you weren’t to go out tonight.” Angel moved to the doorway and leaned against the jamb. “If you go, I go, and the sun will rise soon.”
“Me and my shadow.” Buffy sang sarcastically. “It never ends with you, does it? I get to a point where I can move on and you come along to torture me again. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t think about you today. I didn’t think about what you did to me and I didn’t think about how much it still aches.”
“I said I’m sorry.” Angel growled angrily, the words slicing through the air with finality. “I can’t say more than that. I’m here because I think you might need me. If it turns out that you don’t, then fine, I’ll go and leave you to it. But I can’t ignore Cordelia’s vision and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s going to happen.” Buffy started to say something and he shook his head. “So, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll hang around. I won’t get in your way and I’ll try my best not to *shadow* you.”
“You’re too kind. How wonderful you are to come back here. Do you think one selfless act makes up for how selfish you’ve been? How selfish you are?” She sneered, moving around him and going to the kitchen. She yanked the refrigerator door open and pulled out the orange juice, then turned to find a glass. Her coat felt heavy and she shoved it off, suddenly overheated.
He followed and sat at the bar, watching her pull her coat off and sling it onto the table. His eyes trailed over her and he frowned. She was thin, too thin. Her leather pants were snug and the backless halter revealed her ribs, which were visible everytime she moved. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Being a slayer isn’t exactly conducive to weight gain.” She replied, pouring herself a full glass of juice.
“You weren’t this thin before.” Angel replied, standing up to take his own coat off. He tossed it and watched it land on top of hers, feeling oddly affected by seeing the coats together, then opened the refrigerator door himself. “Do you like eggs?”
“Do I like eggs?” Buffy raised her eyebrow and sat her glass down. “What kind of question is that?”
“Fine, don’t answer. This morning, you do like eggs.” He pulled three from the door, grabbed the butter and milk and kicked it shut. “Where are the pans?”
“You’re going to cook me eggs?”
“No offense, but I’ve seen healthier looking refugees.” He ignored the way she stood up straighter and crossed her arms, and opened the cabinets, intent on finding the necessary utensils himself.
Buffy watched him; half annoyed and half-impressed, as he broke the shells and mixed them with a little milk. Soon, the smell of food was making her stomach growl and she accepted the plate he sat down in front of her. Shaking her head in disbelief, she looked at the fluffy scrambled eggs and toast, and smiled. “You really did cook me eggs.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on around here while you eat.” He nodded toward the table and she followed with her plate. Angel put the coats on the back of a chair and watched her intently. “Let’s start with Spike.”
Between bites, Buffy told him about Thanksgiving and Spike showing up looking half dead and needing a place to stay. It progressed to her telling about Willow’s spell, which made her fall in love with Spike, and then finished with the night they were both taken in the sewers. Naturally, she left out the kiss and the way he made her weak in the knees, and simply told him how scared Spike had been. “It’s not right, Angel. What they do is wrong. I mean, it’s torture. First they make them defenseless and then they test them and then they kill them.”
Angel leaned back in his chair and digested everything she had told him, mulling for a while over the thought of Buffy and Spike kissing and being ‘engaged’. He knew Buffy better than she knew herself and since he had seen her torture a vampire, he wasn’t convinced that she was standing up for ethical treatment of demons just because. No, there was more there. “Are they actually torturing them? Moreover, why do you care?
“Well, maybe not physically, but certainly mentally. And I care because suffering, even if it’s a demon, is still suffering. I mean, they could have taken you a long time ago, you know?” She finished her last piece of toast and sighed, hoping to change the subject. “I’m stuffed. That was really good.”
“Good.” He replied absently, staring past her at the wall, his mind still overflowing. “What exactly is it that these commandos hope to do.”
“They’re creating demons that can only feed on other demons. That way, they can kill the weaker demons and then eventually just have one breed of demon. It’s flawed right now though.” She quickly explained everything Riley had told her. Starting with how the brain slows during death and finishing with how one day, they hoped to have a better chip that wouldn’t weaken and kill the Hostile.
“That’s impossible.” Angel shook his head and leaned onto his elbows. “Buffy, most demons are almost human like in the fact that they have brains and can think and register pain and die. Hell, vampires were human once and there are hundreds of other breeds that were as well. Think about it, people and demons are almost alike.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that these tests, these things that they’re doing, don’t add up. To make a demon have any human qualities, you have to either amend it magically, like a soul restoration, or you have to connect the two somehow. People and demons.”
“Come again?”
“In every aspect of life, there are links. Every being is somehow linked to another being. Science would like to have you believe that man and ape are related, but it’s more like man and demon. Way back, before there were people, there were demons. They used their magicks, used their skills and one day, it blew apart, their reality diminished, and man was here. They inadvertently created their own enemy.”
“Demons created man?”
“Some demons claim that it happened that way. Some people believe that God, a higher power, intervened and created it, and some believe that demons don’ t exist. We know better. And the links between the two are broken in this Initiative. Unless-” He trailed off, reprocessing everything she had told him.
“Angel, I’ve never been good with reading between the lines, so can you be blunt?”
“You told me that they are doing tests on demons to make them unable to hurt people. You can’t just test one thing without the other. People have to be down there, Buffy. For them to know what happens to a vampire’s brain during the change means that they allowed someone to be changed and monitored it.”
“They quarantine people. Maybe they knew it was too late and monitored the change on a victim that they couldn’t help anyway.” Buffy offered, but her heart wasn’t in it. If what Angel was saying had truth in it, and considering the source it had to, then the implications were there. The Initiative wasn’t harmless and she would be forced to stop them.
“Do you honestly believe that they could make these assumptions and analysis based on seeing it happen randomly?” Angel saw for himself that she didn’t and stood up. He walked into the living room and returned a few minutes later with a newspaper. “These four little girls are missing. Giles told me you found a body in the sewer. Was it one of them?”
Buffy took the paper and scanned the four faces. “It was the little blond one. I actually saw her in a dream. I could hear her screaming and there was blood. It was-“ She paused and stared at the pictures more closely.
“Buffy, what is it?” Angel moved to her side and laid a hand on her arm.
“When was this paper printed?” She flipped it over and stared at the date. “It’s today’s paper.”
“Yeah, and?”
Heart pounding and hands shaking, she pointed at two of the girls and swallowed hard. “When I went out with the Initiative to the drive-in and pulled those people free, these two girls were there.”
“Where?”
“Hanging in the nets.” Buffy scanned their smiling faces and bit her lip, then pointed at one with black hair. “This one asked me if I was an angel and told me I was. Forest said that they would be transported to safety. Maggie said they bring people underground for surveillance and they simply think they’ve been in the hospital.”
“Were the girls hurt?”
“Not that I could tell. I mean, they were crying and pretty upset, but uninjured as far as I could see.”
“Buffy, do you think –“
“They’re testing the quarantined people?” Buffy nodded at him. “Hell, yes. That’s exactly what I think. I mean, you’re right. They have to be doing stuff to humans in order to learn what they know.”
Angel nodded, eyeing the paper again. “What’s the plan?”
“Somehow I don’t think that going in and accusing them is the way to go.”
“I agree.” He narrowed his eyes and then looked at her. “But, this means that this is even more dangerous now. They know you’re a Slayer and they could just be earning your trust to get your guard down. Who better to model their demon slayers after than a real live demon slayer?”
Buffy stood slowly and took her plate to the sink. “Well, my guard just went up and my defenses are on red alert.”
“Keep it that way.” Angel replied, pulling his coat on.
“Where are you staying?”
“My old apartment.” He fixed his collar and turned back toward her. “I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid to ask for it and don’t fool yourself into thinking you don’t need it.”
“Thank you.” She said, smiling slightly at the feeling of nostalgia that rushed through her. “I’m sorry about-“
He held up a hand and said, “Let’s not, okay? This is business and as soon as it’s over, it’s back to LA with me and back to school for you. When are you going down again?”
“Ten a.m.” Buffy sighed a little, wanting to say something more, but unable to find the words.
“Good luck is what I want to say, but instead, I’ll say be careful. I think you need that more. You can't be too cautious, but you can be too reckless.” With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Buffy heard the door open and shut and slumped in her seat again, staring at the faces on the paper. In her opinion, the girls had been dirty and parched. Nothing about them would indicate that they needed to be kept for this long in the facilities. It had been over twenty-four hours and that was plenty of time to get them hydrated and reunited with their families.
She walked to the back door and stared out at the night. Suddenly her life didn’t seem as complicated as those of the parents of these children. Somewhere out there, a mother was without her baby and the little girl was without her mother. Having been without before, Buffy swore to herself that come ten a.m., she’d have answers.
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Sleep was something that did not come to her. Buffy tossed and turned, watching the glowing red numbers on the clock tick away the hours and finally rose at dawn. Pacing passed some of the time and writing in her journal gave her something to do briefly. Then it was almost eight a.m. and she could wait no more. Pulling on her running clothes, she trotted down the stairs, scribbled out a note and left on foot.
She jogged easily, quickly covering the five miles and arrived at Lowell House flushed, but not out of breath. Several guys greeted her when she was let in and she made half-hearted replies to their attempts at conversation. Finally, she recognized Michael, the man who had introduced himself to her the first day, walking toward the elevators and joined him. “Hi, Michael, right?”
“Oh, hello Buffy.” He smiled down at her and glanced her up and down. “Out for a jog?”
“Yeah, got to maintain this girlish figure.”
“You’re anything but girlish, honey. I’ve never seen such a woman.” He replied with a small wink. “Did you need an escort down? I know your pass isn’t activated yet.”
“I’m actually looking for Professor Walsh. Is she underground?” Buffy asked casually, letting his flirtation pass without incident.
“She should be. Is something wrong?” Michael hoped that there was something wrong. He hoped that she had discovered what a pissant Riley was and was going to request a team transfer. His team was lonely and could definitely use a hot little number like Summers for distraction.
“Well, I don’t know.” She pulled the paper out of her jacket and pointed at the little girls, which she had drawn a circle around. “I rescued these kids the other night.“
“I was there.” Michael took the paper and glanced at it nervously, wondering how to handle the situation. He doubted very seriously that Walsh would have told this girl, this new agent, much of anything.
“So you know as well as I do that they were fine and should have been reunited with their families before this paper went to print.” Buffy took the paper from him and put it back in her jacket. “I need to see Maggie.”
“I’m your man.” He pointed at the mirror and waited for the green ray to pass over them, then stepped inside with her. “How do you like it here?”
“I like it fine.” Buffy replied monotonously.
Michael spoke into the speaker and then smiled at her. “You don’t sound convincing.”
“I’m tired. No sleep.”
“Riley keep you out all night?” Michael grinned a little and wiggled his eyebrows. "Rumour has it that you two are quote the little couple. Is that true?"
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Buffy asked, forcing herself to grin at the man. She had seen the way he eyed her the first day they were there and she hadn’t forgotten the way Riley seemed to tense up when he was present. Her first impression was that he was oily enough to slither his way into most places, but her good graces would not be one of them.
“Just so you know, my team could use you if you get tired of playing house with Riley. We’re more active that the pansy squad and you’d get out a lot more.”
“Out?”
The elevator doors opened and he stepped through. “You know, out in the field. We cover the sewers. We’re not like the little country boys that have to hang out above ground. We get down and dirty. Something tells me you’d fit right in.”
Buffy pursed her lips like she was in deep thought and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Riley was sparring with Forest in one of the padded exercise areas when he saw Buffy walk past him, followed by Michael, who was talking rapidly to her. It was only nine o’clock and he remembered telling her specifically that she wouldn’t be needed until ten. He turned slightly, watching her demeanor, and caught a mouthful of Forest’s fist.
“Damn!” Forest shouted, clutching his fist to his chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’ll be back.” Riley grabbed a towel, ignoring the ache in his jaw, and climbed the ladder, following the way they had gone. He walked the main aisle, glancing down the corridors and finally saw them all the way at the end of the Implanting row.
Michael saw him coming and led Buffy to another elevator, draping his arm over her shoulders. He had purposely brought her this way in hopes of Riley seeing them together. “I guess Walsh is on the other level.”
Buffy wanted to wriggle out of his grasp but let him pacify himself instead. When they were inside, he leaned low to whisper in her ear and she saw Riley heading their way. The closing doors prevented her from stepping out to greet him, but it didn’t prevent her from seeing the look on his face. “Michael, why do I get the feeling that you don’t like Riley?”
“Because I really work hard to make sure everyone can tell.” He shrugged, leading her down another hallway as soon as the elevator opened.
“Care to tell me why?”
“I can only tell people why over coffee. Have some with me later and I’ll gladly fill you in.” He tweaked her nose and pointed at the end of the hall where Walsh stood. “Find me later if you’re interested.”
Buffy watched him as he walked away; arrogantly holding his head high, and whispered, “Don’t hold your breath.” Rolling her eyes, she headed toward Maggie.
Professor Walsh saw her coming and her forehead creased with concern. “Buffy, are you injured? Why are you coming to the infirmary?”
“No. I’m fine. I was looking for you actually.”
“You found me.”
Buffy pulled out the paper and pointed at the smiling faces on the front page. “I found them too and it’s strange to me that this paper reports them as still missing.”
Maggie was taken aback, but quickly forced herself to remain impassive. “Yes, I know. Initial examinations of the people who were rescued showed signs of contamination. We’ll need to watch them for at least seven days.”
“Contamination of what?”
“Buffy, prolonged exposure to a demon can be harmful or fatal to a person. This particular demon was incredibly nasty and every person from that night is ill.”
“I’m not ill. Riley’s not ill. Forest isn’t and neither is Michael.”
Maggie sighed heavily and closed the medical journal she had been looking at. “I said prolonged exposure, Buffy. We need to keep them here long enough for our antibiotics to kill any of the germs left on them.”
“What makes you think they need it?”
“You’re very inquisitive.” Walsh smiled and put her arm around Buffy’s shoulders, squeezing lightly, the way Michael had done. “I like that quality. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you why they need it.”
Riley met Michael as he stepped out of the elevator and was relieved when she didn't see Buffy with him. He held up a hand as the man started to brush past him to get into the elevator himself. “Where’s Buffy?”
“Look for her.” Michael smiled.
“Just tell me. Or else-”
“You think you have some kind of pull around here just because your mommy runs the show? My dad was--”
“Oh hell.” Riley stepped back in disgust and looked at the boy like he was insane. “Are you still on that? Your dad got himself killed. Forest didn’t do it. Graham didn’t do it and I sure as hell didn’t do it. He did it.”
“Right.” Michael nodded his head and spoke sarcastically. “He knew that something was happening at that High School, Riley. He told us and none of you assholes believed him. You stayed behind and let him go alone and he got blown to hell and back.”
“We told him not to go, Michael.”
“He had rank in your group. You didn’t have a right to tell him anything.” Running a hand through his hair, Michael stared him in the eye. “I should let Buffy know what a coward she’s running with.”
“This is an old fight, man.” Riley exhaled loudly and turned to walk away. “And don’t you even think about bringing Buffy into it.”
“Maybe you should see what it feels like to lose someone you love.” Michael mumbled.
Riley spun fast and gripped him by the throat. “Don’t you even look at her and don’t you dare come within three feet of her again or I’ll mess you up so bad, you won’t know a Hostile from your face in the mirror.”
Michael shoved him back and swung his fist, which Riley blocked. Riley got a good left hook in and knocked Michael’s head back against the wall and Michael’s foot caught Riley between the legs before they were separated by Walsh’s sharp reprimand. She shouted for them to halt, from one end of the hall, and both did as instructed, backing away and staring at the ground. Buffy followed and watched with wide eyes as Walsh seemed to dominate the situation instantly.
Maggie looked from one to the other. “What is the meaning of this?”
Michael stood straight and said, “Nothing, ma’am. It’s under control. Permission to be excused, ma’am.”
“Shake hands.” Walsh said, crossing her arms and watching as the two boys did as instructed. “Permission granted, Michael.”
Michael turned and stepped through the door to the stairwell, pausing on the other side to listen through it. He couldn’t wait to hear what Riley would tell Mommy Dearest.
“Riley?” Turning, Maggie appraised Riley. “Your side?”
“It would appear that Mikey hasn’t gotten past his father dying in that explosion last year at Sunnydale High. He still blames me.” Riley stared at the floor, his jaw clenched tightly. It was very degrading for this to happen in front of Buffy and he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
Buffy cleared her throat and said, “Uhm, how are you responsible for the school blowing up? I did that. The Mayor was ascending into a demon and we had to stop it.”
“You did that?” Professor Walsh looked astonished.
“I did.” Buffy smiled a little, leaving off the part where it was actually just her idea and Giles had pulled the trigger. “I knew it had to be done to stop the Ascension.”
“Wow.” Riley beamed with pride. “That was gutsy.”
“Slayers are gutsy.” Buffy agreed and then remembered the children in the paper, her main reason for arriving early. “Hey, you said you would show me the kids. Professor Walsh?”
“Oh, Riley can show you.” She moistened her lips and gazed up at her son. “Buffy is concerned about the people in quarantine. Can you take her over and let her look through the glass and see for herself that they are perfectly fine?”
“Sure.”
“No one is to go in.” Maggie started to walk away and then paused, “And Buffy, if you are so inclined sometime later, I’d love to hear about the school and what happened.”
“Okay.” Buffy watched her leave and looked up at Riley. “So, show me.”
Riley motioned her to follow him and she did, eager to see the children. Neither one noticed the stairwell door open, or the very angry young man who stepped out. Michael watched her closely, predator to prey, and then turned and stalked down the stairs. It was time to hack into the Agent file and get Buffy’s home address. His dad would not die in vain and Riley would pay for every single thing he had ever done. It would be such poetic justice to kill two birds with one stone.
Riley paused at the end of the long hallway and tapped on a window. Buffy gasped when blinds were pulled back and she could view the Infirmary’s Quarantine Unit. Every bed was full and every patient lay motionless, hooked up to various machines. Despite the theories that Angel had bounced off of her the previous night, these people appeared to be unharmed. “Why are they so still?”
“We put them to sleep. It’s easier for them to handle the quarantine that way. As soon as we know that they’re fine, we transfer them to the city hospital in Los Angeles. They will wake up there and probably won’t remember anything.” He pointed to two small figures in side by side beds at the back of the room. “There are those kids you saved.”
Standing on her tiptoe, she nodded, making a mental note of where the Infirmary was located and vowing to check back in as soon as the opportunity presented itself. “Are they going to be okay?”
Riley lifted a receiver beside the window and punched in several numbers. One of the men, who was wearing a mask over his face, picked up and stared out at them. “Are the two little girls going to make it?” asked Riley, indicating the back of the room.
The tech nodded and hung the phone back up. Buffy laughed a little and said, “A man of few words.”
Riley didn’t say anything as he put the phone back in place, then he turned. “Stay away from Michael.”
“Well, that came out of left field.”
“I mean it, Buffy. I didn’t tell my m- Maggie this, but he threatened you. He thinks that I was somehow responsible for his father’s death and wanted him to die so I could make rank in Team One. I told him to stay away from you and he said something about it being time for me to lose someone I care about.”
“He could have been talking about anyone.” Buffy replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. It dawned on her that she had made the motion without thinking twice about it and that was very unnerving.
“I only care about you and he knows that. Everyone knows that.”
“I can take care of myself.” She smiled, both from his concern and his admission, and looked up at him.
He brushed her hair back and took a deep breath. “I don’t doubt that, but humor me. Promise me you won’t go out alone or go around him.”
“I promise.”
Nodding, he lowered his mouth to hers. A loud buzzing caused them both to jump and she pulled away. “What’s that?”
“It’s ten. Time for the meeting.”
<><><><><>
Professor Walsh stood on her podium and glanced at the people who had gathered around her. It always gave her a rush of pride to see so many fresh-scrubbed faces staring up at her. These people were the future of the world and she was proud to lead them in the war against darkness. Lifting the field report that Riley had filled out, she flipped it open and read the first two lines. “Team One is pleased to report that there were no fatalities on Mission X-3 Drive-In2. Five specimens were brought to base as requested and the victims were salvaged.”
Closing the folder, she smiled. “Give yourselves a hand, people. You did an outstanding job.”
Buffy clapped along with everyone else and then smiled at Forest, who nudged her with his hip as he joined the group. Walsh glared at him and he shrugged apologetically. “Sorry.”
Shaking her head, Walsh continued. She was going to do something that was positively unheard of. It was time to settle into business and that meant that she wanted as little distraction as possible. “With no impending problems on the horizon, I am decreasing the workload. The holidays are practically here and I’m sure all of you have family and loved ones to spend time with. For the most part, we will still be actively running the mission and I want you to keep your beepers with you at all times. In two days, we will be shutting off all systems for Y2K structuring and I must devote time and attention to that. However, do not hesitate to contact Agent Finn or myself if a crisis arises. Any questions?”
“Will we be required to report to base daily, ma’am?” Forest asked, unable to contain his glee at the prospect of less work.
“The technicians, the feeders, and the cleaners will still have to maintain their workload, but the field agents are free agents.” Walsh grinned a little at the small cheer that erupted and then clapped her hands together. “However, there is much work to be done today. The chamber has sixteen dead creatures that need to be moved to the surgery bay for autopsies and we have four specimens in the later stages of implanting that need to be moved to the chamber. I don’t need to remind you that demons that are dying are very, very unpredictable in nature. Teams Three and Five, you gather some volunteers and remove the bodies. Hose down the area and get it ready for the new occupants. Agents Finn and Gates, you two will show Agent Summers how to handle the transferring of the Hostiles to the chamber. Summers, as soon as you have finished the tasks at hand, please find me.”
Buffy nodded and tried to make sense of what she had just heard. They put dying demons into something called a chamber. It was like Nazi Germany all over again. The hair on the back of her neck tingled and she gave a small shiver. Maggie continued speaking, “I don’t have to tell those of you who are remaining in Sunnydale for the holiday break to use extreme caution at all times. Despite the fact that you will not be required here daily, you are still Agents and you are to keep order above ground. I’ll want a list of everyone who will remain in town for Christmas break. Some of you have standing orders and those will still stand. Please see Agent Gates and sign the proper paperwork. I want to know who I have to fall back on if something does happen. In this town, that’s very likely. Are there any other questions?”
No one raised a hand and Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. She had expected someone to question the Y2K information, or at the very least volunteer to help. Only a select few people knew what was really happening and she had spent the better part of the morning preparing careful replies to possible questions. “Very good. Dismissed.”
Several of the boys gave others high fives and laughed loudly, unable to contain the rush they felt from having a real holiday. Riley watched them, a small smile on his face and then moved toward Buffy, who had followed Forest to a table near the elevator to help him get the signup sheets ready. “I’m glad they’re getting the break. Everyone needs a little time off.”
“Time off is that thing that we don’t actually have.” Forest replied and opened a pack of inkpens, pouring them all over the table. “You can bet that us poor souls who are hanging out here for Christmas will be put back to work.”
Buffy was putting blank pieces of paper into clipboards and nodded absently, “It’s nothing new for me. I’m used to it.”
Riley chewed his bottom lip and watched her closely. “Well, it’s time you get used to something new then. Enjoy the break, Buffy. It won’t hurt you to forget about slaying for a few weeks.”
Buffy stopped what she was doing and looked up at him skeptically. “You’re kidding, right? Let me explain a little something. Evil doesn’t stop coming just because it’s December. I know, holy month yadda-yadda, but this is still Sunnydale and break or not, I’m the Slayer.”
“It won’t matter if you miss a vampire here and there.”
“I’m sure the person who supplies dinner for that vampire would beg to differ.”
“You can’t save everyone.”
“But I will damn well keep trying.”
Forest taped the cardboard sign he had made the edge of the table and looked from one to the other. “I hate to interrupt what some people may interpret as a lover's quarrel, but we have work to do.”
Buffy glanced at him and said, “I thought you were in charge of the sign ins for the people who were staying?”
“I am in charge. There are the pens, there’s the paper and there’s the sign that says, ‘Sign Here If You Are Staying.’” He shrugged and scratched the side of his face. “I’m a man of many talents. I can be in two places at one time. That’s why I’m always the one Walsh picks for these odd jobs.”
“She picks you to keep you out of trouble.” Riley pointed out.
“Well, that too.”
<><><><><>
Thirty minutes later, Buffy was holding a gun in her hands and listening intently to Forest and Riley arguing about the best way to get a very large and scaly demon to the chamber. Riley felt that the minute they opened the doors, the demon would charge. Forest felt that there would be plenty of time while it was charging for Buffy to immobilize it. For the third time, Riley was explaining why shooting it with the ray gun would only serve to anger Walsh. “Maggie doesn’t like to have the bodies damaged when they’re this close to the end. The implants make it impossible for them to heal properly before they die.”
Forest pointed at the demon, which was alternating between baring it’s fangs and making lewd hand gestures. “Do you think she really cares about the skin on that thing?”
“I care about my skin, Forest, and I’m not putting my ass on the line. I’ll try to get close enough to inject it with the tranquilizer.”
“Don’t you have a tranquilizer gun?” Buffy asked, impatiently tapping her foot and eyeing the small hypodermic needle in Riley's hand.
“We ran out of the darts for them a couple of days ago and the shipment hasn ’t come in yet.” Riley replied, watching the demon closely. “I think it’s too sick to put up much of a fight.”
“Why can’t we just walk it to the new place?”
“That’s why we’re drugging the thing. So we can shackle it and take it where we need to go.”
“Standing here isn’t getting it done.” Buffy shoved her gun into Forest’s arms and held out her hand. “Just give me the needle and let me do it.”
Riley laughed at her and shook his head. “Absolutely not. I said I’ll do it.”
“That’s just it. You keep saying you will do it, but you haven’t yet. Just open the door and let me take care of it.”
“Buffy, request denied.”
“I am a member of this team. I’m not going to stand around and hold a gun that I’m not supposed to use while you get your skull bashed in.”
“Are you going to challenge me on everything?” Riley snapped.
Forest rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Oh lord, here we go again.”
“I’m only going to challenge you when you try to repress me. I’ve been doing this for a long time, Riley. Now open the damn doors.”
Riley swiped his security pass through the panel and punched in several numbers. Buffy moved toward the glass, waiting for it to move aside. As it started to open, she took a deep breath. “When I tell you to give me the needle, give it to me and don’t give me a hard time.”
“Whatever.” Riley turned to look at Forest and said, “Don’t hesitate to use that.”
“I thought that we had to save the skin and-“
“Shut up.”
The door opened and Buffy slipped inside, eyeing the demon up and down. “We have to move you.”
“Slayer …” It growled, pulling thick jowls away from a long snout.
"I remember you." She stepped closer, eyeing the creature that had gotten away a few weeks before, and said, “Sit down.”
“Make me.” Came the garbled reply.
Buffy kicked out, snapping the creature in the knee. It crumbled onto all fours and tried to bite her, then howled in agony. She sidestepped and sent a foot into his forehead, knowing that the implant would be causing immense pain there already. When the thing cowered into the corner, she shrugged. “Would that qualify as making you?”
She turned and held her hand out, taking the needle from Riley, who said, “Try to inject the neck. On this certain breed, the skin is softest there.”
“Turn your head.” Buffy uncapped the needle and squatted in front of the demon. When it ignored her, she sighed. “Turn it or I’ll turn it for you. Permanently.”
It complied and hissed when she stuck the needle into the gray flesh. She squeezed quickly, emptying the syringe and then stood, putting the lid back over the needle. “Now what?”
“We put the shackles on and see if it can stay awake long enough to walk.” Forest came through the doorway with a set of thick chains and began to work on the demon’s hands.
Buffy gripped the larger set, snapped them around the ankles, and stood. “Get up.”
The demon stood on shaky limbs and swayed back and forth. Riley gripped one arm and began leading them toward an elevator. Buffy walked on the other side of the beast, her mind racing over how angry she was at the way Riley tried to shelter her. She was the Slayer. Capable and strong and –
The demon stumbled and Buffy moved toward it instinctively, trying to keep it upright. The thing raised it’s arms, dropping the chain around her neck and began choking her. She lurched forward, barely registering the orders that Riley was shouting or the fact that she couldn’t breath. Pushing with all her strength, she was able to create enough space to get her head free. She pulled the demon down, crouching and causing it to slump over her. Then she kicked upward, clutching the chain in her hands as she swung out and up. Her body flipped over top of the demon and she dropped behind it. The chains that had been around her neck, were now around the demon's and she twisted hard, snapping the neck as she yanked it off it’s feet.
It fell to the ground lifeless and her eye’s widened. “Oops.”
“Oops?” Riley shouted, pointing at the angry red welts on her neck. “Buffy, that move you just made could have severed your head. And you killed the damn thing!"
“Look on the bright side.” Forest said, putting his arm around Buffy’s shoulders protectively. “At least the demon's skin wasn’t damaged.”
“You guys are-“ Riley shook his head when they both broke into hysterical laughter. “absolutely not as funny as you think.”
“But you like us anyway.” Forest wheezed.
“I like one of you and I tolerate the other.” Riley exhaled loudly and grimaced. “Now, which one of you want to do the paperwork on this one?”
“I think that break you told me to enjoy just started.” Buffy announced, still giggling.
Riley finally had to join them, wondering if his mother would also see the humor in the situation. He doubted she would and he didn’t really care. For the first time that he could ever remember, he was happy and nothing else mattered.
<><><><><>
Maggie flipped through the latest test results for Hostile Seventeen and sighed, pushing open the door and looking at him. She had meant to speak with him sooner about what she had read in Hal’s file, but one of the patients in the Infirmary had suffered a bad reaction to treatment. It had taken most of the night to get things back on track. Now she had time though and that was something he didn’t have much more of.
Spike had his head resting on a table and looked like he was sleeping. She nudged him and he sat up, glancing around the small room. She frowned when she got a good look at him and looked away quickly. His face confirmed what the results had indicated. The dark circles, the red bloodshot eyes, the lack of color on his lips, all of it. The implant was working faster than she had expected. She figured that he had been unwilling to accept the fact that he couldn’t harm anyone and had continued to try, causing the implant to work harder. The normal life expectancy was about a week, possibly two, longer than this, but his chip was worn and was already releasing the toxin that would shut down his nervous system.
Spike watched her sit a glass full of blood in front of him and cringed. It was insulting for them to try to appease him now. He could feel the changes inside of him and knew exactly what was going on. “You’re killing me. Don’t try to act like that blood will make me better. I’m dying.”
Walsh didn’t reply for several seconds and then she nodded solemnly. “You are. I was hoping that you’d be willing to talk to me now though.”
“What, deathbed confessions? I was a bad, rude man. You think I won’t try to get even badder now? I have nothing left to lose.” It took all of his will power not to strike out at her. After all, she was here alone with him and no soldier boys were around. Whatever they had done to his head would cause more pain than he could handle right then, so he sat still, trying to move as little as possible.
“Have you ever been to Venice Beach?” Maggie asked softly.
“Hasn’t every freak on the face of the planet?”
“What year?”
“I go every year.”
“Why?”
“It’s fun. People all over the place, women who parade around in their knickers and go to bed with anyone, and demons selling the best spell books you can buy. It’s like Woodstock for demons there.” He groaned a little, nauseated, and lifted the glass to his lips. The blood was cool and definitely belonged to a pig. He swallowed with a loud gulp and pushed it aside again. “Damn nasty shit.”
Maggie glanced at the tablet in front of her and noticed that the vampire Hal mentioned was a brunette. “Do you bleach your hair?”
“You color yours so you should know the answer to that. You should be white headed judging from the crows feet you have.”
“When you were at Venice Beach once, did you encounter someone who stuck a syringe into your leg?”
Taken aback by the question, he looked baffled. “No. I'm pretty sure I would remember that.”
“I think you did.”
“I think at your age your mind begins to play tricks on you.” He rubbed his fingers across his forehead and a growl rumbled from his chest. He felt awful. For most of the night, he had lain awake with thoughts of the Slayer flitting through his mind. He had struggled for hours, wishing he knew what she was doing and trying to convince himself that she was there to save him. Sometime during the night, he had felt something in his head. A snapping sensation that was immediately followed by a dull ache and then dizziness. And he knew that she couldn't save him if she tried.
“Tell me about your sire.” Maggie decided to change the subject and come back to it later. Maybe if she forced him to talk, he would grow tired and let it slip that he was actually the vampire that Hal had injected.
“He’s a prick.”
“Did you want him to change you?”
"Does it matter what I wanted? Here I am."
"Tell me about your life, the mortal one. I want to hear it all."
Spike sighed heavily and glanced at the ceiling. He wanted to curl up someplace and wait for the inevitable with no more intrusions. He had a lot of things to think about and mull over. “Is this my dying gift? You pick my brain apart and tell me why it’s better for me to go?” The woman didn’t reply and he added, “If I tell you what you want to know, will you leave me alone and let me die in peace?”
“Yes. If you answer my questions and stop giving me a hard time, I'll see to it that you are left alone for the remainder of your time."
"Get comfortable. I'm about to tell you a story and the only reason I am telling you is because I know I will never have to tell it again."
This part contains depictions of violence, rape and Spike's changing. I tried to keep it toned down, but it is there. Read at your own risk.
Spike fidgeted, running his fingers along the edge of the table for several seconds before he cleared his throat. “Where do you want me to start? I’m not going to tell this like that soddin’ poof in Interview With The Vampire.”
“Start at the beginning of your life. Tell me about your birth and take me through the years of your youth and don’t stop until I tell you to.” Maggie pulled out a small hand held recorder and put it in her lap. “You broke my good one with your temper tantrum.”
“I was born with a temper in 1850. London was a dark and rancid place back then. I was born on a cold night in December and I think it was the twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve to some. Christmas Day found me bundled up and left inside a Catholic Church on one of the pews. I was shipped to a orphanage almost immediately, save for a few days spent in the hospital overcoming frostbite on my feet. I grew for seven years without feeling a kind hand. We were worked, the children there. We rose at dawn and stayed up long after the sun had gone to sleep, knitting, sewing, earning our keep. And a meager keep it was. Days would pass with only brown water to sustain us. If we cried for food, we were hit and if we collapsed from the hunger, we were put in the boom room. I spent many a day sitting inside the boom room.”
“Boom room?” Maggie urged him to elaborate.
“The walls were metal and it was about four feet wide and three feet tall. When we were punished severely, something that a slap wouldn’t rectify, we were forced inside and the lid was closed. The good children, the ones who were too scared to protest the foul treatment we received, were given metal pipes. For hours they would beat on the outside of the room, too afraid to stop and glad to be doing something other than poking holes through their thumbs with needles. The sound was so loud and horrible, vibrating through you and making you dizzy. It was dark, darker than a starless night and I hated the dark. It terrified me and when I was allowed to leave the boom room, I would try to find a workstation beside a window so I could feel the sun for as long as she would shine.
We were poor. The orphanage couldn’t afford blankets and what bedding there was had holes in the sides and at night, you could feel the rats rustling under your back. My stomach sang me to sleep growling and my stomach woke me up a million times, aching and begging for anything. If you couldn’t sleep because of a bad stomach then that meant you needed a day in the boom room. For seven years I lived inside the same walls, never allowed to go outside. We were a scab on the face of what London was working toward at the time and we were best kept hidden away. If they didn’t see us, see our gaunt little faces and the bellies protruding from hunger, then we didn’t exist. Nothing felt worse than being there and being considered nothing.
Two weeks before my seventh birthday, a man and woman came to the orphanage. They had two daughters and their only boy had passed away a few months before that. He was seven and they desperately wanted a replacement for him. The boys that fit that age group were lined against a wall and told to stand up straight and we scrambled to do it, thinking that this would be our lucky day. Couples had come in before, wanting a boy and I was used to them walking right past me. A hundred times it happened. They’d pass me over and pick the tall boy, the cleaner boy, the boy with the strong arms.
My spindly little legs were shaking when they stopped in front of me. The woman lifted my chin and dampened a hankerchief with her tongue, rubbing my cheeks with it. I never forgot that moment. She smelled clean and good, like a woman should, and I wanted to beg her to pick me. I didn’t have to beg. She saw that I did have rosy cheeks and even though I looked puny and was smaller than the other boys, I would do.
William Lawler was a banker and his wife Agnes lived to serve him and her children. I had a spring in my step when I left that building and stepped into the sun for the first time. The carriage was large and the two little girls were in the back. Oh, how they laughed at my clothes and ratty hair. I looked like a little girl with such long curly hair. Father Lawler shouted for them to quit being mean to their new brother and they leaned their heads together to whisper so he couldn’t hear them. Katharine was ten and Elizabeth was eight. I think I knew right then that I would love her. I can remember her hair, so straight and fine, hanging around her face. She looked like a dream, so delicate in her dress and shiny black shoes and the biggest green eyes you had ever seen.
I became William Lawler the Second and we settled into a new town, where no one knew that I was adopted. Father Lawler took his job at a new bank and I attended school, a constant source of agony for me. Elizabeth was in my class, having been held back a year because of sickness, and the only thing that got me through those days was her hair. She accepted me straight away. They all did, but she made sure I was happy. Her bread at the supper table always found it’s way onto my plate and she would whisper, “Eat it, William. You’re so small.”
We always had enough and I had blankets on my bed and shiny shoes on my feet and was allowed to go play with other boys. I rarely did, though. I wanted to stay around Elizabeth and her yellow hair. Father Lawler was always being invited to fancy parties and Mother Lawler always refused to go, claiming that putting on airs was the devil’s work. He would always tell her that the whole world was damned and he may as well be damned and handsome at the same time.
Time turned into years and soon I was fifteen. Elizabeth’s bread on my plate kept coming and it was right around that time that I noticed her plate was always full when dinner ended. She would slide her bread to me and then lift her fork to stab at her food. I really looked at her one night, where she was sitting in front of the fireplace and I saw that she was sick. Father Lawler announced that he was taking Elizabeth to a hospital over ten miles away and they would leave in a week. Ten miles back then meant two days of travel at least.
The night before they left, Lizzy came to me and asked me to walk with her to the stables to say good-bye to her horse. I watched her stroke his face and she was crying when she explained to me that she wouldn’t be coming back. She had seen the Angel of Death in a vision and it told her not to be scared. Quite a lovely woman at sixteen, she turned to me and pulled me into her embrace, telling me that I wasn’t her real brother and she couldn’t die without showing me that she loved me.
Right there in the barn, lying atop the dirt and the hay, I loved her completely. Not caring about sin or damnation. The next day she apologized for leaving me and told me that if she had not gotten sick, we would have run away together and married. I watched the carriage pull her away and she was on her knees, staring back at me. The last time I saw her, the sun was making the tears on her cheeks glisten and her hair, her beautiful flowing hair was blowing back toward me. Waving good-bye.
Katharine seemed to enjoy her absence and made a big deal about all the space she had in their room now. I ruined it for her by going in as much as I could to lift Lizzy’s brush or her pillow. I’d rifle through her things, stroke her doll’s faces and wait patiently for her to return and prove that the Angel of Death had been mistaken. I’d thumb through the books that we had read to one another and go to our favorite spot in the woods and talk to her.
The Angel of Death is never wrong. I waited at the end of our road on the day Father Lawler was returning and my heart sank when I only saw him riding atop the wagon. He stopped and asked me to climb on and I did. I saw the wooden coffin lying in the back and he had to support me to keep me from falling over with shock and grief. We stayed there together, sitting at the end of the road, and he told me that the only thing that kept him going was the fact that he still had a son. I pleaded with him to show me her body, to let me see that she was really lifeless. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t just sleeping and would accidentally be buried alive.
We had to leave her in the barn overnight and when everyone had gone to bed, I slipped out and sat beside her. She was still up in the wagon, waiting to be taken to the cemetery. I could smell the death and decay. Back then they tried to get people in the ground as quick as possible and didn’t have any fancy embalming machines. It was horrible. She had left smelling like roses and came back smelling dead. I used a hammer and pulled the lid loose. I moved it aside and forgot all about the smell. There she was, wearing her favorite white dress. She had wanted that style in red, but Mother Lawler claimed that red was the devil’s work. Her hair was hanging over her shoulders and she was blue. Her lips, her face, her hands.
I reached inside and put my hand on her cheek, whispering that I would never love anyone again. I cursed God and I cursed my family and I cursed myself. For the entire night I waited, shooing away the flies and finally, with tears streaming down my face, I hammered the lid back on. It was the hardest thing I had ever done to pull that lid back across and hide her from my view forever. I memorized every detail and when the sun rose, I pretended to have been outside washing up and went to get dressed.
The day we buried her, my life became a hell in more ways than one. All of Father Lawler’s attention turned to me and I was forced to study more, work harder and become a scholar. I was content to lie in my bed all day and remember the past, but he wasn't about to raise a lout. He chose my friends, making sure they were the highest society and forced me to put on airs, for which I felt damned. I was cursed for deflowering my sister, even though I was adopted, and I was cursed for being such a bad child that my real mother didn’t want me to begin with.
I discovered ale at the pub with these high-class friends when I was seventeen. Soon, I could be found lying in alleyways by the townspeople who would shout, “Lord help the Lawler’s, it’s their drunkard son William, lying here disgracing his family again.”
I wanted to disgrace them. I wanted to disgrace them all for letting Elizabeth go. Katharine was ashamed of me and moved away, marrying a merchant. I wasn’t allowed to go to the wedding for fear that I would lie down drunk and disgrace the groom’s family and not just my own anymore. Soon, my parents gave up hope and left me alone, figuring an orphan like me just had a bad mind. They loved me, they told me that, but I didn't care.
I was twenty-five when my world fell apart. My mother had died when I was twenty-two and my father seemed to cling to me then, scared to live alone. I gave him every reason to ask me to leave, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Just as I had turned to ale, he turned to women, whoring himself out and no longer caring about his social snobbery. The bank fired him, we had to move to a rat-infested tomb that rivaled the orphanage for filth, but I was content. I had started to hang out with the pickpockets and beggars, feeling more at home than I had since Lizzy’s death.
I was a regular street urchin and then Angelus and his childe, Drusilla, blew into town. She, this beautiful and almost childlike woman, bewitched my father. He would accompany me to the pub and stare at her, long for her, and I could see that she was aware of his adoration. She basked in it, making sure she got to touch him and tempt him as much as possible.
I wasn’t impressed with her. She wore impossibly snobbish clothing and walked around like a cat, slithering from one man to the other. He was always there, this Angelus, watching her with a smile that curved his lips only slightly. Women fell all over him, begging for a dance or more, but he had eyes only for her.
Then one day I saw his eyes on me and I was scared, terrified by what I saw in his face. Looking back at it, I can say that he was like the King Cobras that they show on documentaries, pinning their prey in a deadly gaze before they strike. One look at him and I felt the blood drain from my face. I knew. I knew that he was different. For three weeks it was the same. If I went out at night, he was there. Standing on street corners, lurking in the shadows of the pub and always, he watched me. I stopped going to the pub altogether, afraid that he would be there.
Then, one night I came home and Dru stood nude in the kitchen and my father was on his knees in front of her doing things that would guarantee him a spot in hell. Angelus was sitting at the table, flipping through Elizabeth’s books, and he smiled when he saw me. “Ah, young William.”
The accent was Irish and he stood, offering me his hand. He seemed impassive to what was happening a few feet from us, while I was tempted to run. My father stood and told me that I was to show Angelus around the town in exchange for the company of Drusilla. I said no immediately and my father’s fist flew. The first time he had ever struck me was right then, with a naked woman at his side and a man who terrified me hovering over us.
Angelus grabbed his hand before he could hit me again and shoved him away. He says, “If you strike this boy again, I will kill you.”
I wasn’t a boy. I was twenty-five but I didn’t say a word. Angelus insisted that I begin showing him the town that night and pulled me from the house. His hands were cold on my arm and I shivered, feeling like he had reached through me and iced me over.” Spike paused, as if reliving the moment and closed his eyes.
Maggie watched him closely and said, “You tell this with such detail. I’ve never heard a vampire tell his stories this way.”
“I said I would tell it once. I might as well tell every bit of it.” The pain in Spike's head intensified and he brought the glass of blood to his lips again, taking a deep swallow before he continued. “We walked slowly and he never took his eyes off of me once. I don’t think I breathed one time as we headed down the alleyway that led to the center of town. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was expecting something. His presence, his demeanor, all of it put me on the defensive. I was shaking by the time we made it to the pub. I pointed it out, telling him that this was really all there was to see that time of night and he had already seen it for weeks. He pulled me around the corner and says to me, ‘I’m going to go into the alley right there, William. You go inside and bring a pretty girl out here.’
I wasn’t a fool. I knew what happened to pretty girls in alleys. I shook my head no and started back toward my house. His grip was like some sort of trap on my arm and I yelled out. He turned me to face him and I screamed. His face, oh, his face was terrifying. Gold eyes had replaced the brown ones and his forehead was wrinkled. Pointy teeth had grown from blunt ones and he seemed bigger to me. I think I would have had a heart attack if I had been able to register what I was actually seeing. I thought I was looking into the face of the Angel of Death.
And so help me, I was.
His voice was deeper, his accent thicker, when he spoke again. "You get inside there and bring someone out unless you want me to kill you, William."
All I could do was nod and he smiled at me, motioning me inside and I burst through the doors. I began to shout, "Help me, oh lord in heaven, the Angel of Death is upon us."
People laughed at me, accusing me of having too many spirits. I begged them to believe me. I begged them all to come with me and see for themselves. I wanted them all to come and protect me. No one budged and I began to cry. I felt a hand on my face and glanced up. A girl, no more than eighteen, wiped my face and said, "Show me. I believe you."
I begged her not to walk out the door. I pleaded with her to stay inside, but out she went. He grabbed her the second she made it past the doorway and covered her mouth. I trailed them, wondering if I could overpower him and tried not to hear the muffled screams coming from the girl. He pulled her into a cemetery at the back of a church and threw her on the ground, turning his feral eyes toward me. "You did good, William. Such a fresh, lovely flower."
I watched him grab a handful of her pale hair and pull her to her knees, then to her feet. He whispered, ‘What is your name, child?’
‘Elizabeth.’ She was bawling, staring at me and pleading with her eyes. I trembled from my head to my feet, feeling like this girl was my Elizabeth and I had to help her.
‘Have you ever been touched, Elizabeth?’ His hand moved to her throat and I saw him squeeze a little.
‘Touched?’ She cried even louder as he pinched her neck. ‘You’re touching me, sir.’
‘Such innocence.’ He crooned, leaning down and licking the tears off of her face. ‘Such sweet, sweet fear.’ Then his hands moved fast, ripping her skirt from her body. His grabbed her between the legs and pulled her knickers off the same way, tearing them at the seams and causing her to scream. She was naked from the waist down and he ran his palm over her newly exposed flesh. ‘Have you ever been touched here?’
Realization hit her, as much realization as the women were allowed to have back then, and she pleaded, begging him not to hurt her. I joined her, asking him to let her go. He seemed shocked and said, ‘William, I thought so much better of you. Are you a man?’
‘Yes, Angelus. I am a man and a man will defend a woman’s honor.’ I stepped forward and reached for her. ‘Let her go.’ I said, my voice betraying me and sounding weaker than I would have liked.
He laughed at me and says, ‘Ah, William, will you take her place?’
I nodded slowly, not realizing what I was agreeing to. He shoved the girl forward and she tripped, hitting her head on a piece of headstone and I tried to go to her. Halfway past him, Angelus grabbed me and pulled my mouth to his. It was a shock and I pushed fiercely against him, struggling the way the girl had done. His face was still deformed and I’m trying to scream and can’t get enough breath because he’s crushing me.
I feel his hands on my belt and try to fight harder. I’ve never felt strength like his. I find myself tossed across a headstone on my stomach and my britches pulled down. He shames me, causes me more pain and agony than I have ever felt. I had only ever known of sex with a man a woman, sex with only my Elizabeth, but I feel like I deserve this. I am being punished for cursing the Gods and shaming my family with ale and falling in love with my sister. I prayed loudly, reciting tidbits my mother had made me learn in the bible. The pain is so powerful, I think that I’m going to die and recite the Lord’s Prayer under my breath.
It seemed to excite him more and by the time his climax had come and gone, I was too weak and sore to move. I rolled off of the headstone and clawed at the ground, trying to find something to strike out at him with. I find a rock and turn and he had the girl gripped in his arms and his teeth buried in her neck. Blood was dripping from his mouth, running down the front of her dress and I stumbled forward. He let her drop to the ground and ran his hand across his mouth like she was nothing.
‘You said I took her place.’ I yell, throwing the rock.
‘Oh, you did.’ He caught the rock in his hand and tossed it up and down. ‘You would be the one dead if she had not been here. See, I had wanted a new girl, Dru bores me so, but now, I think I’ll keep you.’ He starts toward me and I run, pulling my pants up as I go. I can hear him behind me, not running, but not letting me get far enough away that I can’t hear his voice echoing through the night. He called to me, singing my name.
I have to get home. I get a stitch in my side and clutch it as I run, limping and stumbling. I slam open the door and finally find the breath to scream. My father, what is left of him, is lying on the table. Drusilla is perched on his face, pulling stuff from the wound in his chest and dropping it onto the floor. I vomit, gripping my stomach, and she slinks toward me, every inch of her covered in blood.
The horses are in the barn and I move fast, running toward it. I mount and fly out the door, bareback and still in pain. Angelus grabs my ankle and I topple off the side. He’s on me in an instant, covering my body with his. ‘Please, please.’ I screamed, sounding very much like the girl that Katharine said I looked like as a child. I think I was begging him to let me live, but now I know I was begging him to let me die.
My dignity had been stripped, my family lost, and when he leaned down and pierced my throat, I welcomed it. I welcomed death. I felt myself start to slip away and I see Elizabeth. She beckons me, calling my name in a field of wildflowers. I see my mother sitting in the parlor reading her bible. I see my father telling me that I made him proud. I see Elizabeth again, wearing a red dress like she had always wanted and she isn’t damned for it.
Then I see dark.
Something wrapping around my cock wakes me up and I look down to see Dru’s head bobbing up and down between my legs. Angelus has a goblet and is sitting at our feet, watching closely. He raises his cup to me and says, ‘Welcome, my childe.’
The hunger is deep, reminiscent of the hunger back in the orphanage, but I don’t beg. I push Dru aside and rise, powerful and aware of every sound and sensation around me. I can hear the hearts beating in the hotel rooms, I can smell the perfume that the ladies spray on their breasts, I can taste the crimson life that Angelus fed me to bring me back and I smile. Dru rakes her nails down my back and says, ‘Someone is hungry.’
‘Tonight we feast.’ Angelus declares and hands me a box with new clothes in it. I put on airs and don’t feel bad. Guilt is gone. I no longer care that Elizabeth is dead or that my father died. I regret not taking a stab at that girl in the cemetery and I am mad at myself for running away from this. From this release.
I feast. I think that I somehow enjoy it more than Angelus does and he takes pride in my gluttony, deriving pleasure from watching me. He shows me things, ways to invent new tortures and together, we wipe out half the village before the three of us leave.
Dru’s attention turns to me more and more. I can’t deny her as Angelus does. He will coddle her one minute and strike out at her the next, uncaring that she is so fragile. I care. I hated her when I first saw her, hated her sexuality and her demented ramblings and now, with the darkness that surrounds me, she shines and draws me in. I don’t long for daylight, I don’ t long for anything except her.
Years go by and we travel all over Europe. Serbia feels our rage for years and eventually we find our way to Romania. So many years have gone by and I learn from Angelus daily, striving to be as revered as he is one day. I want to step out of his shadow and be the one that everyone looks at when we walk into a room. He dominates it, his height, his shoulders and I want that. I am powerful, but the only time I feel powerful is in Dru’s arms. She lets me be a man. Angelus treats me as a son, his plaything.
Romania intrigues us and we stay for a while. Angelus goes to hunt one night, leaving Drusilla and me alone. We make the most of it, exploring one another more thoroughly than Angelus allows. The night vanishes quickly and soon we realize day has come and our sire, our teacher, our father, if you will, has not returned.
All day we wait, alternating between worry and speculation. I want to have the chance to thank him for making me. To thank him for showing me the way. Night comes and then day and then night again. Ducks and me are feeding less and less, trying not to be obvious. Months past and she pulls into herself, won’t talk to me, won’t do much of anything anymore. I do hear her talk to that wretched doll that Angelus had bought her a few years before.
Dru gets visions, telling me that Angelus isn’t dead, but he is gone forever. Finally, I can stay no more in that town with it’s soddin’ memories and my hopes that he will walk through our door. We journey to Prague and she comes alive again, letting me step into the role as master even though she is my elder. We make names for ourselves, me because of my fascination with railroad spikes and her because of her visions. We create a league of minions who do our bidding and wreak havoc forever.
Word comes to us that Angelus has gone to America and that something has happened. He no longer hunts and kills people. Dru and me get ready to see this for ourselves and we celebrate the prospect of finding him again on what is to be our last night in Prague.”
“Excuse me? No longer kills people?” Maggie interrupted, sitting the tape recorder on the desk. “What do you mean?”
“Can I get there in order please?” Spike stretched a little. “I need to tell it like it happened.”
“Fine, go on.”
“Something happens though, we get mobbed and Dru was almost bled dry. I find her lying in the street, her head damp with her own blood and do what I can to nurse her back to health.
For so many endless years, it’s just me and Dru. Me feeding her, cleaning her, talking to her when she was too weak to even hear me. Nineteen sixty comes. Dru is able to walk and talk and eat without my help and she hears that America is the best place to be. We stow away on a cargo ship, alternating between feeding on people and feeding on rats to keep our identities a secret. Half of the people on board the boat are American and by now, America has become fascinated with horror films and vampires in particular.
New York looms on the horizon and despite the chill, we stand on the deck and watch monstrous buildings and more lights than we’ve ever seen get closer and closer. Ah, it’s wonderful. Food is everywhere and we meet people who tell us about Angelus. We travel more, going all over the states searching for him. The night that he had gone out to hunt, leaving Dru and me alone, he had fed on a Romany gypsy girl. Oh, she was supposedly a beautiful young thing, promising with the magicks and worshipped by her clan. Angelus gets caught with his pants around his ankles and his teeth buried in her throat. The elders despise him and conjure up a special brand of punishment. They restore his soul and turn him into a big old whiny douche bag with fangs. Oh, he still has to eat, but he brown bags it like this.” Spike pointed at the glass on the table and then stared at Maggie’s stunned face. “Pretty wild, huh? The bloody wanker was in New York just weeks before we arrived and we were hot on his trail, always too late to catch him.
Dru handles it poorly and withdraws even more as more time passes. I handle it by going to pubs, only it’s called a club in America, and I get drunk. Then one night, I go out to the beach and sit there, watching the moon dance across the water-“
Maggie jumped a little, and glanced at her tablet. Hal had said that the demon at Venice Beach stared at the moon and the water. She didn’t interrupt him though.
“And I cry. For the first time since the night that I was changed I cried. I cried as much as I had cried for Elizabeth. I cried as much as I had for myself. I cried like a baby. I wanted my sire back. I kept thinking, ‘how dare he?’. Every tear that fell made me more aware of what I had been in life. I realized that, even though a demon lived in me, I still knew love. I loved Dru and I loved my sire and I hated him too. When I was first turned, he told me to prey on only the weak. He had broken that rule and got himself spayed.” Spike took a gulp of blood. He couldn’t tell the part about Buffy sleeping with Angel and him coming back. He couldn’t tell the part about his own feelings for Buffy either. “That’s pretty much it. Dru eventually left me for a Chaos demon and I came here to torment the Slayer.”
“Why?”
“It’s fun. She’s a spry little devil, knows just what she wants and how to get it.”
“You said that you cried and felt love. Did your old feelings come back to you at all? The feelings of remorse and hurt for the loss of Elizabeth?”
“Yes. Why do you think my hair is this color? I can’t see it, but at least I know that I have someone on me that was like her. She was back to being a part of me. She invaded my thoughts. Her tiny little body, her long blonde hair and piercing green eyes. She could see right into my-“ Spike paused, a brief picture of Elizabeth filtering through his mind. It took him a second to realize that he was seeing Buffy. Buffy with longer hair and a long skirt on. Buffy with a piece of bread in her hand, offering it to him. Buffy in the hay, telling him to love her like she had always wanted.
“Spike?” Maggie put a hand out and pressed against his arm.
He jumped, pulled from the reverie. “You promised me. I told you my tale and you promised me I could die alone.”
“Did someone shove a needle into your leg at Venice Beach in nineteen eighty-five?”
“No.” Spike replied convincingly. Even though someone had done that very thing. The beach that he had cried on had actually been Venice Beach and it was after the injection. Whatever was in that shot is what made his emotions flood through him. As time passed, they were less prominent, but he never forgot the way it felt either. Something told him that if he confessed, he would be subjected to more tests, and he was tired. Spike was ready to see the Angel of Death for real or Demon of Death in his case. “Please, let me go now.”
“If it was you on that beach and you tell me, I can give you more time. I can keep giving you more time.”
“I’m ready to go and it wasn’t me.”
Maggie nodded slowly and pulled a walkie-talkie from her pocket. “Team One, this is command, over?”
Riley’s voice crackled and he replied, “Team one to command, over?”
“I have another Hostile ready for the chamber. You won’t need a tranquilizer. We’re on level two in the debriefing room, over?”
“Copy that request. Team one to report to level two debriefing room. Hostile for chamber, over?”
“Over.” Professor Walsh stood up and kneeled in front of the vampire. “I have one more question.”
“What?”
“Where is your sire now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he alive?”
Spike smiled. “To my knowledge, he has not been alive for over two hundred years.”
Maggie chuckled a little, remembering when he said those exact words to her before. “I could speed the process of your death, Spike. I could end it right now.”
“No, please.” He shook his head and then leaned it against the table. “I have a lot to think about.”
~ And a Slayer to talk to one last time. I will last that long, I will. ~