****************************************
'All those alchemists on the board of directors and they still make us fly coach. Miserly bastards.
A frugal lot, to be sure, but not stupid. And I think you'll find, willing to admit when they've made a mistake.'
(Smith and Collins - Sanctuary)
Giles brushed the festoons of cobwebs from in front of his face and crouched at the edge of the bookcase. He found the spring with the tips of his fingers and pressed hard. Slowly, with the weight of centuries of dust and grime, the small door slid back in its track revealing a dark square. With a deep breath and grimace, Giles reached into the dark hole, knowing what he hoped he'd find, yet worried that he'd meet surprises.
As his fingers touched the dry paper and crumbling leather of an old book, he exhaled a sigh of relief and gently extracted the object. Hurriedly, but carefully, the Watcher wrapped the book in the cloth he'd brought for that purpose and closed the small door. With careful, quiet steps, he moved as quickly as possible from the room, re-locking the doors behind him. He immediately left the Council building, heading for his car. He knew he'd not breathe easily until he was on the plane to California.
************************************
'As the pain sweeps through,
Makes no sense for you.
Every thrill is gone.
Wasn't too much fun at all,
As the world falls down.'
The crone woke amid a swirl of blinding pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. Fire burned inside of her and she wanted... She didn't understand what she wanted until the ridged face male-child she had seen the magick bring forth so many colds ago showed her. Many of the different ones dragged a female into the cavern where they all hid from the others and from the light in the above. The female had been bitten and the red liquid ran slowly from the bites.
They threw the female at the crone. She hit the rocks inches away. The scent of the red liquid was the most wonderful thing the crone could ever remember smelling. She felt her face moving, stretching and reached a hand upward to touch her flesh only to find the lumps and ridges like those around her. She understood now what the other ridged ones did; and, in that understanding, quickly pulled the wounded female to her and bit deeply into the soft flesh of the neck to suck the life-giving fluid.
The crone knew where the strong female hid and led them to her. All but the male, who the magick had brought before her, wanted to drink the female. Yet, he grunted and hit them to stop them from drinking her as they thought would happen.
She was but one. They were many and soon overwhelmed her, holding her still even though she continued to struggle. She had managed to turn four of them into dust before she was taken to the floor during the fight.
The young male moved closer to her, crouching next to her, running his hands across her chest and the lumps that seemed to please him.
She struggled more, to no avail. He simply made a strange noise at her and kicked the side of her face, then ripped the furs apart that covered her.
As the others held her, the male kept licking, touching, and very gently biting her all over. Her grunts and growls slowly changed to moans.
The male pointed to the ground and the rest held firmly to her and pulled her completely to the ground, pinning her in place, as the young male pulled his own furs off and plunged the hard, coldness of part of his body into the hot, wet, grasping opening she had in common with all females.
****************************************
It had been many darks since the others had captured her and the male she had grown up with had hurt her. She didn't understand why he had only bitten her slightly and licked the bites instead of killing her that day, nor why he had bitten himself and made her drink the red liquid from him.
They had let her go and she had run from the place she had been to a new place, a place where they had not found her yet.
The male had put his cold hard flesh in her. He had done it over and over through the long dark that never seemed to end. Finally, he'd turned her loose and the ridged ones had all vanished deeper in the caves as the light appeared in the sky.
Her belly had swollen after many darks, then something moved inside of her. She had seen this with other females that finally squeezed a small one from the opening between her legs, where the male had hurt her with his cold flesh.
Now, pain grasped her body and caused her to cry out as the lump inside of her tried to come out.
****************************************
She was tired and hurt everywhere, especially where the small female had come out of her body. The small one had made only small sounds and finally had found one of the lumps on her chest to suck; yet this small one had no teeth.
Rolling both of them in the furs, the female drifted into a troubled sleep.
The little one had grown rapidly over the last few colds and hated the ridged ones as she herself did. The older female showed the younger one everything she knew about hiding from them, finding them and how to turn them into dust.
****************************************
'Is there a cure among us
From this processed sanity
I weaken with each voice that sings
In this world of purchase
I'm going to buy back memories
To awake some old qualities
Have I got a long way to run
Yeah, I've got a long way to run...'
Giles planned to spend the flight reading the rest of the diary from Yaszette's Watcher and the even older one of Robere. When the plane had lifted from the ground at Heathrow, he was finally able to draw his first deep breath in hours. The flight attendant brought him a cup of tea.
+++++
September 29, 1633
The gypsy came to my room last evening. I know not how she entered the room or the building except that she is also a vampire. She told me Yaszette's daughter was fine and healthy. They call her Elisabet.
The woman Yanni told me of an old Council person whose writings I must find. She gave me instructions on where Robere's diary is hidden and then continued to tell me a tale beyond belief.
****************************************
'In ages past when spells were cast
In a time of men in steel
When a man was taught no special thing
It was all done by feel
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the Book...'
+++++
(The diary of Robere)
January 19, 1425
A page from the Council of Watchers summoned me to the Headmaster today.
I was invited to join this secretive but prestigious group as one of their alchemists.
Master Quintus said Lord Suffolk had recommended me after my healing of the Lord's young daughter.
I know I should not have such pride at this invitation yet I cannot but help to feel finally justified in my arduous studies.
I shall move into the keep on the morrow and begin my Journeyship with this august group. Master Quintus said I would be further instructed for the next several months in the specific arts they require from me.
That I, Robere of Cornwall, the youngest bastard child of seven, should be found worthy of such honor, is truly breathtaking.
February 24, 1425
Today the Watchers brought a panikin of blood to we five alchemists. It is time to show the Headmaster how right he was in his judgment of my value to them!
They wish us to enhance the blood to bestow greater strength and endurance upon the person the blood was taken from. In addition, they wish us to create a potion from the blood that will cause the chosen mate of the Council's young ward to be most desirous of her and for their union to be fruitful.
It seems she is some distant relative of the Headmaster himself. It is only natural that he should desire her to make an advantageous match and provide heirs to the Headmaster.
As it is only natural that with my recent joining of the ranks of the Alchemists, that the Watchers would now seek more difficult tasks from us.
Giles had taken an almost instant dislike to this Robere and he only had his words to read. He was glad he'd never had to put up with the insufferable man some 600 years before. Now to 'wade' my way through this infernal diary of his. I can only hope it gets quickly to the information I'm supposed to locate. With a slight sigh, Rupert Giles picked up the fragile book again and clenched his teeth as he returned to reading. He was simply skimming the elegant copperplate script until, finally, two years into the 'infernal diary', as he thought of it now, the tone abruptly changed.
+++++
June 11, 1427
I was taking my usual constitutional around the ramparts of the keep this evening after our meal when I heard a woman screaming and a small child crying. I thought I knew every part of the keep after all this time, yet I have never encountered these persons. I was not near the servants' quarters; but even so, the servants do not have children on the grounds and I have heard of no visitors that would account for these sounds.
I asked the head alchemist and he spoke of some villager and a sick child, yet... under his words, I heard the ring of untruth. We do treat the servants' children and the occasional villager in truth. Why would they feel it was necessary to lie about such a thing? There should need be no untruths about this. Yet they felt it worthy of a lie.
I think this bears investigation.
June13, 1427
I may be in more trouble than I realized.
My previous questions concerning the overheard voices resulted in an unexpected visit and near reprimand from the Master. There was still not an explanation for the sounds so I continued to search.
I finally found the room from whence the voices and crying emanated two nights ago. I would wish to God I had not! But that is not the truth either, for the truth is ghastly.
It was a barred room, locked from the outside. Yet the lock was so easily opened with the right word and only a slight touch of magick.
Inside, it was like cages. The crying woman was actually a young girl of perhaps 15. In the cell next to her (for cells are all they can be likened to) was a small child, perhaps a year old and in the third cell... in the third was the most horrible beast! His face was ridged and horrible, his eyes a blazing yellow, his mouth filled with ragged teeth that appeared to be sharp like those of an animal. And like an animal, he growled and flung himself at the bars in his attempts to reach either the woman or the child.
But then the creature spoke as plainly as myself and his face... his face shifted and was ridged no longer! I recognized him then. He was a young Watcher that had left the keep soon after I arrived, or so I had been told, and thus had dismissed from thought.
I think this beast was the thing the Watcher's guard against... a vampire!
They saw me not, so I was able to tarry and listen to the words of the beast. He told the young woman that she was his lawful wife and the child his as well, so he had the right to do with both of them as he pleased.
The woman told him he'd not touch her again for the moment he did, she would 'stake him'.
The child saw me then and cried out to her mother, the young woman!
The woman and the vampire both spoke to me while the child whimpered and cried.
They had such accusations when they learned I was one of the alchemists!
The woman said I was one of the 'beasts' that enchanted the blood the Watchers took from her and the vampire. She said they mixed the blood and forced it back into the bodies of both of them. They also told me that, when they had both been drugged and controlled, she had been 'given' to the vampire repeatedly until she was with child! The young child in the third cell was the result of our tampering!
Hearing voices down the corridor, I made a hasty exit without being seen, yet I heard the voices of the woman and vampire raised in accusation and description of me to the Watchers who discovered the door of the cell chamber unlocked.
What do I do now? Do I give in and 'tell' all in hopes that we might continue as we have been? Do I seek to escape the confines of these walls and disappear in the countryside? Or do I do what my very soul tells me is right? To learn what our magicks have been actually used for and why. To find out how damned my soul is from what I have done and try to undo that damage.
I know they will figure out who was there by description alone. Of course, it's not as if they had many to select from, there being only we five alchemists. Perhaps better to admit my discovery and pretend to continue as before whilst I seek out the truth.
I think that is my better plan. I shall secret my journal away as I have never had to do before and seek out the Headmaster.
June 14, 1427
I have consumed half a bottle of good port after my interview with the Headmaster just to calm the shaking in my hands enough to write this. I must learn the full truth now and do what I may to rectify this horror I have willingly, if ignorantly, participated in.
Master Quintus all but told me that if I spoke to anyone outside of him or the other alchemists (who it seems have know all along!) that I would be simply killed out of hand as food for the vampire or perhaps even 'turned', as it was called, as they did to the young Watcher and then used as 'stud' for the next Slayer as soon as her womanhood was upon her! That young child!
It seems that a very strange woman was discovered several centuries ago. She had the unusual combination of strength, skill and drive to kill the vampires, so of course the men involved captured her and her daughter and brought them to this keep, forming the society of Watchers. They have been involved for centuries now in a selective breeding process as if the women were simple sheep for their use. They had even managed to capture a vampire after a seer told them the vampires and Slayers were distant kinfolk. They always keep one Slayer here and breeding with a vampire, if possible, trying to 'improve the breed' as Quintus put it.
Quintus said that at one time they had attempted to 'turn' a Slayer, and almost were not able to subdue her resulting savageness long enough for them to destroy her. They have also tried raising the male children and 'turning' them to breed with the Slayers who are always female. Sweet God! They have forced them to have children from their own sons or brothers!
Male children they kill at birth now, for they are of no use to the Council.
Yet it seems that the male vampire who can produce a child is a rarity indeed and often must be assisted with magick. On very rare occasions, two vampires have been able to produce a child, yet the mother must always die for they cannot give birth as they are already dead but not.
They have gotten the best results with 'turning' Watchers who have already proven themselves able to procreate, but even the vampire they become is rarely capable of fathering a child.
What do I do now? Do I try to learn more, for I know there is more to learn? I am no longer this night the foolish fop I was once, believing in innocence and goodness in shades of black and white. Do I try to help those I have helped to wrong?
I know I must hide this book and pretend to be as before or my life will be lost.
+++++
+++++
Giles was shaking as he closed the book and tucked it back into his pocket. Clamping his teeth firmly together, he managed to reach the small lavatory before his nausea at what he had read finally overwhelmed him.
***************************
'And into the fire
I'm reunited
Into the fire
I am the spark
Into the night
I yearn for comfort' (Into The Fire, Sarah McLachlan)
'I touch the fire, and it freezes me
I look into it, and it's black.
Why can't I feel?
My skin should crack and peel.
I want the fire back!' (Walk Through The Fire, Joss Whedon)
Willow had just entered the kitchen of the Summers household, intending to make breakfast for Dawn, Buffy and herself, when a sleepy and somewhat rumpled looking Cordelia appeared in the doorway followed by an equally frazzled looking Buffy and Spike! "Ah... Hi, Cordelia, Spike, Buffy... What's up? Why is everybody here?"
"Long story, Will. Can we cover it over breakfast? Giles is on the way from England with some really important and kinda dangerous information about Slayers and vampires. I think Cordy and Spike kinda need to go over some stuff with you too." Buffy replied, her voice weary. She'd stayed curled in Spike's arms during the night, dozing off and on, yet had not truly slept as they waited for Giles. She kept turning Cordelia's words over and over in her head until all of her thoughts were tied in knots.
Yeah, must be why my head hurts... All those knots making bumps on the inside... Gad, I must be losing it big time.
"Things to go over?"
"Willow, you did the spell that brought Buffy back. Spike can hit her without his chip going off, so we need to go over the ritual you used to see if we can find anything unusual there. If not, we'll look into the Slayer angle; but right now you're here and Giles isn't. Oh, and by the way, I'm part demon now. Don't know what part, or what it does except keep the visions from killing me and makes me float occasionally, but I am." Cordelia turned to open the refrigerator after dropping her bombshell on the redheaded witch.
Spike passed Willow on his way to retrieve a bag of blood for breakfast and patted her shoulder. "Flies, Red. Gonna catch'em if you keep your mouth open like that. French toast might be better."
"Demon? Giles' coming here? French toast? Slayers and Vampires..." Willow was baffled. It was much too early for complications.
" Slayers and vampires and demons, oh my! Yep, that's about it." Cordelia remarked over her shoulder to the Wiccan. "Spike, catch!" Cordelia tossed the carton of eggs at him as she grabbed the container of milk and the tub of butter. She turned to look at Buffy. "Got syrup too?"
"Syrup? Ahhhh, yeah, syrup. Sticky stuff, in a jar, put over pancakes, right?"
"That's the one. Hey, Willow, Spike and I will do the French toast if you'll do the bacon." The brunette turned to take the bowl from the vampire.
"Here, put a bit of vanilla and cinnamon in as well. Makes it better." Spike handed her the appropriate spice jars.
Willow moved toward her housemate in a slight daze. "Buffy? What...? All that other stuff... Spike and Cordelia cooking. Please pinch me and see if I'm awake?"
Before Buffy could utter a word or make a movement, Spike had obligingly reached over and pinched Willow's backside. "Oww! Dammit, Spike! Wait, no headache!"
"Well, bit of a twinge but not much, 'cause I knew I wasn't gonna really hurt you and you did ask for it." Spike told her quite smugly.
Buffy simply ignored their antics as she opened the cabinet for plates, still feeling mentally numb.
In record time, the toast and bacon were finished. Buffy had the dining table set; and when Dawn came downstairs, the teen had the unusual presence of mind to not comment on the odd assortment of people in the kitchen or their activities. Instead she poured orange juice for everyone except Spike, who got his usual large glass of O positive with his French toast.
There was little sound except that of eating until Cordelia casually remarked to the room in general. "Did you know that idiot Harmony likes sugar and cinnamon in her blood? How disgusting."
Spike never blinked as he added his own comment. "I prefer some crumbled Wheatabix. Adds texture."
Buffy looked up at him and blinked. "We'll have to get some then, I guess..." She realized her implication and ducked her head to resume eating.
"If it's okay, I'm gonna go over to Janice's after breakfast. When you get a 'council' like this together and call in the L.A. gang, I think I should be elsewhere. Sooner or later you'll tell me something. I hope."
"Dawn, honey... Let us get this figured out and I promise I'll tell you. Janice's is fine." Buffy reassured her sister.
"And if big sis doesn't tell you, I will, Platelet. 'K?" Spike resumed his attack on his food as well. "Oh, and any more hangin' out with vamps and I'll personally kick your arse. Not a word, before you even say it!" Spike warned her, knowing she'd bring up the fact that he was a vamp.
"Oh, all right," Dawn grumbled as she got up to put her plate in the dishwasher and headed out of the kitchen.
Buffy shot Spike a look of pure gratitude for his comments. Buffy just had not been able to say much to Dawn about the vampire teens that had almost killed her around Halloween. She felt like telling Dawn to stay away from vamps was pretty much the pot calling the cauldron black.
"We'll discuss that later, Love. Let's get you figured out first." Spike knew Buffy hadn't really cautioned Dawn, as she should have, from her own words; but right now, he felt they needed to worry about the Slayer.
With breakfast finished, Willow and Spike headed to the redhead’s room. Cordelia stopped long enough to tell Buffy, "As much as you might want to be in there, we need you to stay out here and not let us be disturbed. I'll keep your vamp safe."
"Thanks, Cordy. I can handle that. No disturbances. Got it." Buffy turned around to attack the dishes in the sink instead of making use of the dishwasher. It would give her something to keep her occupied while her three friends talked upstairs and she watched the clock, waiting for Giles.
**********************************************
'On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
Will he offer me his mouth?
Yes.
Will he offer me his teeth?
Yes.
Will he offer me his jaws?
Yes.
Will he offer me his hunger?
Yes.
Again, will he offer me his hunger?
Yes!
And will he starve without me?
Yes.
And does he love me?
Yes.
Yes.
On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
Yes.
Willow sat tentatively on the edge of her bed. Spike stood next to the door, leaning against the wall. Cordelia curled up on the floor, hugging her knees and looking up at Willow. "So... so... what do you need to know?"
"What did you use in the ritual?" Spike asked, his voice betrayed the hardness underneath even though he tried to hide it.
"The usual... herbs, candles, Urn of Osiris..." Willow trailed off.
"Know about that one. Gotta have 'vino de Madre'. So where did you get it?" The hardness was more apparent.
"Black market stuff."
"Bollocks! Gotta be fresh and you know it. So where did you get it?" Spike repeated the question more strongly.
"A... a fawn. I gave blessings and all..." Willow tried to explain in defense of her actions, trying to excuse what she had felt she had to do.
"Willow, did you use your magick to call the animal to you?" Cordelia asked very coldly.
"Ah..."
Spike turned and slammed his hand against the door. "Oh, Bloody Hell!"
Cordelia look up at the vampire, amazed at the strength of his outburst. "What?"
Spike ignored her and spoke directly to Willow. "No bleedin' wonder you've been addicted to your magick. D'n't anyone ever teach you about ethics? You can't bleedin' well use your magick to call a sacrifice and then expect it to work right afterwards! I said it that night and I'll say it again. There are always consequences!"
Willow drew herself up to her full height, facing the vampire. "I did what I had to do. We needed to do the ritual then and I'd put off that part as long as I could. I couldn't wait for chance. Besides, you're in no position to lecture me about 'ethics'."
"No, you bleedin' just took the chance of bolloxin' it all up and tha' way it looks, you bloody well might've."
"What do you mean?" Worry was evident in Willow's question.
"I can hit her. Chip doesn't go off. We beat tha' hell outta each other and never a twinge from this chip."
"Maybe it's broke?" Willow said wishfully and wistfully.
"'S'not broke. Had it checked. Did some checkin' on my own and don't ask or tell. I got plenty o' 'ethics', 'specially for a vampire. Too damn many sometimes."
"This is all fascinating guys, and you can blame each other all day if you want, but let's get down to it. Tell me about the actual ritual, Willow. What did you do, what was said, what happened... " Cordelia interrupted in a very no nonsense tone.
Willow looked at Cordelia for a moment, and in those few seconds realized that there was something much more different about her than just being part demon. This was a woman in charge of herself and often others as well. A woman that would have her way about something. Willow saw a determination as firm as her own resolve-face overlay the features of brunette she no longer knew.
"It was the four of us. Me, Xander, Tara and Anya. We went to the woods where we had buried her and they lit candles. I set the Urn of Osiris on her... her grave and poured the vino..."
"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Cordelia's voice was sweet as syrup. " You can keep doing what seems like hiding how you got the blood for the ritual, but since we already know what it is and what happened, let's just call it what it is... You poured the blood in the Urn. Go on."
Willow reached inside herself and pulled up that 'something ' of her own. She looked back into the brown eyes of the woman in front of her, then glanced at the bright piercing blue ones of the vampire slightly to one side of Cordelia. "All right. I poured the blood into the Urn, dipped my fingers in and made the necessary sigils on my forehead and cheeks, and started the invocation.
'Before time, and after. Before knowing, and nothing.' Then I poured the rest of the blood on the grave and finished the first part of the invocation. 'Accept our offering. Know our prayer'. "
"Pretty standard so far. What happened then?" Spike commented to both women.
"Cuts slashed into my arms and I could feel things under my skin, moving around. But the research all said I'd be tested, so I kept on with the rest of the invocation. 'Osiris! Here lies the warrior of the people. Let her cross over. Osiris, release her!' The things moved up into my throat and I felt like I was gonna choke. They all kinda merged and came out of my mouth as a snake."
"Yeah, snake's about right. Ya' know the ancient Minoans considered the snake as a symbol of rebirth." Spike interjected. Both women looked at him as if he'd suddenly spouted a second head.
"What? I've studied a lot of things. Kinda had to, what with Dru and Angelus and all."
Willow nodded slightly, understanding some of the things he might have done. She remembered what Druscilla and Angelus had been like. "That's what I found in my research. They had lots of things carved with the snake holding the 'flower of Zeus' in its mouth as the rebirth of some great king."
Willow started enthusiastically about the subject.
"So why didn't you do your ritual with that, instead of Osiris?" Spike asked vehemently.
"D'you know how hard it is to find all the rituals associated with that resurrection spell, much less the Obelisk of Zeus? It took us months just to find the last Urn of Osiris!"
"Fine. So wh'd'ya'do next?" Spike leaned back, arms crossed.
"The energy was running through me and I could feel something starting to happen, like a door starting to open. I thought that was probably the part where the 'judging of the hearts against the Feather of Truth' was done before the 'rebirth of the downed Warrior'. But then Razor and his demons came through on their bikes and smashed the Urn. I remember falling for what seemed like forever and then I was in the woods being carried away from it all." Willow shivered slightly at the memory of the aftermath of the ritual as well as the sensations that had flooded through her during it.
Without warning, she was suddenly grabbed by both arms and hauled up into the air, looking down slightly at a very enraged blonde vampire.
"All that! You did all that and then just left her there? Left her to wake up buried alive?" His hands tightened slightly in his anger and pain twitched through his head. He fought the urge to wince, but set the redheaded witch back on the ground, leaning into her face. "Did you finish your research at all? Did you know Osiris came back missing something? Not that Buffy has that problem, but that she'd be changed 'cause of it?"
He ran his hand through his hair in that familiar gesture of frustration. Frustration at Buffy being left alone, buried when the spell might have worked, as it obviously had; frustrated because of the complications of the specific ritual the witch had used. He'd run across that one when he'd been helping Dalton research how to bring Dru back to full strength and the warnings about it in the book.
Well, I s'ppose she might not have had that book or someone to translate ancient Egyptian like Dalton could do.
Cordelia felt it was time to break this up and pushed at Spike's chest with one hand and Willow's shoulder with the other hand. "Okay, no fighting. Willow, take us there. I need to see."
"You mean go back to..." The very thought made the Wiccan want to cringe. She didn't want to see the gaping hole in the earth where Buffy had had to dig her way out of her own grave. She didn't want to have to remember again the time when Sunnydale was without a Slayer... when she was missing her friend.
"Yes. That's what I mean." Cordelia looked at the vampire beside her, sensing something else from him. "You okay with going there, Spike?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I can do it. I was there when they... when we buried her. I dug my way outta my own grave. I can go back to her’s cause I know she's here." He turned away so the brunette couldn't see his face, hoping that would be enough. The thought of having to go to the place he buried the Slayer he loved, to have to see the mute evidence of her having to dig her way out like... like a vampire... a monster, was more than he wanted to do.
Cordelia just looked at Angel's childe. This was not the same vampire that had threatened to kill all of them so long ago. This was a man in love. Being in love with Buffy made Angel so broody all the time, but it seems to have made Spike more alive than any vampire I've ever seen. Well, except maybe Harmony, but under all the ditz, she's still a vampire. Under all this swaggering, there's a man inside this vampire. "Okay! Let's get going then." She looked at Willow and Spike expectantly.
****************************************
Having gotten his stomach settled again, Giles nursed the plastic cup of scotch as he opened Robere’s journal again, determined to finish it in the dwindling hours before he arrived in California.
+++++
June 21, 1427
I do not know if Quintus still trusts me or no; however, I think I may have gained some trust from the other three. I go to converse with them as often as possible and when not in the throes of his demon-madness, Ambrose is not the animal we have been told. Selene is the Slayer they have here with her daughter, Marabeth.
I'm told that Selene's mother; Amanda was released once Selene came into her powers. This seems to happen when their, ah, womanhood, comes upon them.
Selene has had three other children before Marabeth, but they were boys and thus the Council killed them all. The previous vampire was unable to produce any but a male child, so Ambrose, who has a small daughter in the village, volunteered to be 'turned'. He tells me that the Council promised they would care for his daughter and her mother for the rest of their lives for his sacrifice.
Selene is worried that she may be with child again. Should this be so and another girl, she said they would try the 'test' on her. They would have two Slayers here in captivity should the 'test' fail.
I questioned her about this 'test' for she seems most frightened of it. Once she told me all she knew, I understand her fright!
They have not been able to do the 'test' for some time, she told me. The Council will kill the Slayer in the least harmful way. It sounds ironic to say such a thing, for when is death not harmful? Yet they will seek to drown her or smother her in some manner. Then it will be the job of we alchemists and some of the Council members well versed in spell casting to bring her back to life.
I had no idea any of the Council indulged in such heresy as spell casting, yet if they will do these things, why should the darker arts give them pause?
I am not sure what the Council feels this 'test' will do or why. Selene said that she had heard talk of it and that a Slayer brought back from the jaws of death will be stronger, faster, more of a 'slayer' in all ways. Ambrose confirms this, although it is said to be very secret information, but that the death and rebirth of a Slayer re-energizes them, revitalizes them, enhances them in some way.
I think it is barbaric to even consider!
+++++
Giles closed the journal as he sat, lost in thought. Bits of conversations otherwise forgotten whirled through his head; events over the last few years as Buffy's Watcher took on new meaning. Her drowning at the hands of the Master, only to be revived by Xander and Angel, her comments after her encounter with Dracula about 'hunting' at night, a thousand little remarks and overheard conversations both in Sunnydale and from the Watchers as well. One encounter in the recent past kept ringing over and over in his ears.
As he was combined with Willow, Xander, all the Slayers back to the First, and Buffy as she fought Adam, they had heard her break the Polgara spike from Adam's arm as the multi-Buffy told him 'Broke your arm.' They 'saw' Adam raise the other arm and 'saw' it alter, change from the modifications the Initiative monster had made on himself and 'heard' his voice over and over tell the multi-Buffy; 'Got another. I've been upgrading.'
Do the Powers 'upgrade' a Slayer if they die and then are revived? Is this what the Council discovered? Why did they do this? Science or curiosity, or just the need to play 'God'? Is that why they wanted Yaszette's body? Would they have actually tried to resurrect her?
In his heart, Giles knew the answer was yes!
********************************
'I can feel it coming in the air tonight, Hold on
I've been waiting for this moment, all my life, Hold on
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight'
Willow led Cordelia and Spike to Buffy's old gravesite, keeping well under the trees even though the sky was overcast. The forgotten shards of the Urn lay half hidden in the grass like fallen leaves. Willow reached down to pick up one of the larger pieces, seeing the dark, almost black stain of the dried blood as she lifted the old bit of clay.
Completely unplanned, Spike and Cordelia both reached to take the shard from Willow, all three hands touching the broken bit and each other at the same time. As skin and clay made contact, the tang of ionized air hit their noses and a wave of energy rushed over them. Held tight in the grip of the swirling orange light, the slightest whisper of the disembodied voice reverberated through their skulls.
'WHAT SEEK YOU IN THIS PLACE? THE WARRIOR HAS ARISEN.'
Willow tried to answer even though the 'sound' of that voice shook her to her teeth. 'The Warrior is changed. We seek answers for such change, O' Great One.'
'FOOLISH MORTAL! DEATH IS THAT WHICH CHANGES ALL. EACH IS DIFFERENT WHEN RETURNED FROM THE PURIFICATION OF THE UNDERWORLD, EVEN AS THE ONE WHO STANDS WITH YOU. THY NAME, CHILD OF THE NIGHT?'
Spike raised his head slightly against the pressure of the energy that held them and the voice that echoed in his mind. 'I was named William, then called William the Bloody, now known as Spike.'
'THEE CHALLENGES THE PURIFIER EVEN AS YE STAND IN HER SIGHT. THERE IS KINSHIP OF SPIRIT BETWIXT US. I SEE THEE HOLDS LOVE FOR THE WARRIOR IN THY HEART. FOR TWO SUCH WARRIORS TO SHARE TENDERNESS IS OF GREAT HONOR TO THE GODS.'
"Oh, High One. We seek to understand the changes in the Warrior. Might you help us?" Cordelia spoke out loud for the benefit of the other two, as well as the slight security of the sound of her own voice. The energy swirled across her cheek in a light caress as the brunette heard the words with the other two.
'THEE SEEK MUCH. YET THEE CHOSE TO RETAIN THE ORACLE WITHIN FOR THE GOOD OF THE LESSER. WORTHY BOTH ARE YE AND THE CHALLENGER FOR THE ANSWERS YE SEEK.'
They 'felt' the energy look hard at Willow. The feeling was not friendly.
'THEE HAST BLASPHEMED THE POWERS GIVEN BY THE GODDESS. MUCH SHALL YE SUFFER AS YE DID OFFER SUFFERING. YET WHAT YE DID IN IGNORANCE WAS DONE IN LOVE, SO HEAR NOW WHAT YE HATH WROUGHT.'
'THE WARRIOR COMES INTO HER FULL GIFTS OF STRENGTH. A MATE EQUAL TO HER HAS BEEN GIVEN AND STANDS IN THIS SIGHT. PROVE THYSELF TO HER, O SON OF HORUS. SHE MOVES CLOSER TO HER BLOODLINE...'
The 'voice' held them in thrall as it spoke on, telling of the hidden and protected bloodline, the warrior, Buffy, had descended from. Images, rather than words, filled their heads as the 'voice' spoke. The images had shape and texture, some being so sharp-edged as to be painful.
Through out the ordeal, Willow was chastised for her actions yet praised for her love. Cordelia exalted for her sacrifice of embracing a demon portion into herself and Spike was the shining hero of the hour to the 'voice' of Osiris.
When the energy finally released them from its grasp and was swallowed back into the earth, the remaining pottery shards crumbled into a sand-like dust, settling into the grass as the three collapsed to the ground.
Some time later, when they could move again, Cordelia struggled to her feet helped by the hand of the man Buffy was meant to love. The seer had no doubt that the voice had told them the truth.
Spike turned and offered his hand to Willow, helping her from the ground. Without looking, he knew Cordelia watched him and over his shoulder told her. "Best to wait for tha' Watcher to share this information. Might have some to go with it all. Buffy'll take it better from him and all of you."
Cordelia heard the edge of pain hidden in his voice. "Spike... It’ll be okay. She'll be okay."
He simply looked at her with those brilliant blue eyes before striding back into the trees toward the Summers house.
****************************************
' A huge fire was burning
And her eyes grew strangely bright
She turned around in her room
What could she take and still survive the fire?
But then again, there was a window
You know it's an illusion...
There is no fire burning...just a soul crying'
Giles read Robere's diary steadily for over two hours as the long deceased man described the death and resurrection of the Slayer Selene and her subsequent increased strength. He told of the birth of her second daughter that had occurred only weeks before her 'death' at the hands of the Council.
On the last page of the diary, Robere had made his final entry. It was almost as if, knowing the book was filled, Robere knew his time was up.
+++++
October 31,1429
I find the date ironic as I enter this, my final note. I feel I am sure to die tonight for my actions and the actions yet to come. Quintus no longer speaks to me, nor any of the others, yet I do not feel the lack of their words.
As Ambrose and Selene had begged of me, I have spent this time crafting a finely wrought spell to aid those who will come after her. The second 'death' they forced upon her has had even stronger aftereffects and she is more like Ambrose now than she had been since the first 'death'. Her strength is greatly increased, as is her aggression.
In time, it became obvious that she and Ambrose felt a kind of love for each other. He was frantic with each death they put her through. When we learned that more were planned to find the limits that a Slayer can be 'enhanced', both of them begged me to end their suffering.
I went to the gypsy encampment following Ambrose's instructions. The elder headwoman told me how to solve this nightmare.
Returning, I explained all and, with the couple's blessing, did slay Ambrose. I have hidden a handful of the dust of his body for tonight.
The two young girls, I can only help indirectly with what I shall do tonight.
Once I have slain Selene and taken her heart from her body, the Council can no longer cause her further suffering. Yet her heart, with Ambrose's ashes, will be the key ingredient to end this torture.
The spell the gypsies helped me to form will cause a new Slayer to be called by the Powers That Be only when the current Slayer dies. The dangerous knowledge of what happens when a Slayer is revived will be lost eventually, we hope; and the breeding of them as cattle will stop, for only one Slayer at a time will be a warrior from tonight forward.
The Council will never tell of the connection between the Slayers and vampires, so that silence should be safety for them all.
May the Powers have mercy on Ambrose's soul, for he had it still, even to the end. And may they offer comfort to Selene who has suffered so much.
Finally, may the Powers find mercy for me as well for my part in all of this and the painful death I shall endure once I have taken the Council's Slayer and ended their harm and experiments on her and her kind.
+++++
Giles closed the small tattered book, in awe of what the man had done. He was such an ass to start; yet his actions changed the course of all Slayers for the better in a great many ways. I can only hope he didn't suffer too much when they killed him. I wish I could have known him.
Despite his wish, the tired Watcher knew the Council would have made Robere suffer as much as possible in his death.
Rising stiffly from his seat to seek the lavatory again and stretch his legs, he was determined to finish the journal of Yaszette's Watcher next.
*************************************
October 2, 1633
Yanni has returned several times to talk with me about Robere's diary, which I read completely. I know not what to say or think of such a man. He was insufferable in the beginning, yet as he learned the truth he gave those suffering pawns everything he had, including his life in the end. Yet the good he did!
I know that what he wrought still guides the calling of the Slayers even now after 200 years. So much of which he spoke was unknown to me. In seeking Yaszette's body, it appears that all the older knowledge has not been forgotten entirely, yet I would suspect it is known only to a small handful of the Council.
Yanni tells me that those of her kind still keep the knowledge alive as well. It is one of many reasons she and those like her will protect and keep Elisabet and her line hidden. She is the first child to be born of a Slayer and vampire in over 200 years; and, as such, some of the Council would see her as a source of new experiments. That can never be allowed to happen.
I should explain about Yanni to whoever might find this journal after I am gone, for I shall hide it where only one seeking this information will chance to look and such a one will be a Watcher in desperate need for their own Slayer, so Yanni explains.
The seers of the Romany tell of a powerful Slayer who will spring from Elisabet's line in the future. She will rebel against the Council and know the love of a true vampire as well as one such as Yanni.
Among the gypsies, when one of their own is taken, they prepare for that ones rising later. A spell will restore not the soul of the Turned one, for they have that still; but will replace the creature's morality. Occasionally, the Turned one will be someone who had questionable moral fiber before the Turning. For one such as this, they have altered the Spell of Restoration so that a good soul may be added to the vampire as well as a new sense of morality.
Those such as Yanni are as much like they were in life as possible. They guard the young ones and when a now rare event occurs such as Elisabet, they protect the innocent one, guarding them even with their 'un-life' as they call it.
I would that I could remember the name of their clan, for they have much honor whether Gypsy or vampire. It is Kal... I cannot remember. I will have to ask Yanni once more.
+++++
Giles laid the tattered book face down in his lap as he dabbed at the trace of moisture in his eyes while memories, both good and bad assaulted him. The Kalderash clan. That's the name you can't remember. Giles thought to the man who had been dead for more than two centuries. Oh, Bloody Hell! What did the Council do to themselves and to all of us? Or have we all just been the pawns of Fate?
************************************
'I'll take you up above ground
over filth, over fire
newly emerged from damp rich earth
every inch a new sensation
stretches me out of my head
out of my head in to his
to taste and smell myself'
Willow, Cordelia and Spike stumbled in through the back kitchen door. Buffy had finished the dishes long since, then swept and mopped the floor as she waited for them to return.
"Are you all alright? I mean, you look terrible... What happened?" Buffy was on her feet the instant the trio entered the room.
"We all touched a broken piece of the Urn at the same time and there was energy still... like it had been waiting there. We got caught up in it and it talked to us. We're okay... just really tired." Willow started to try and explain but didn't want to talk about what she had been told yet. It could wait until Giles arrived so she could get all the 'I-told-you-so's' out of the way at once. "Don't we need to head to L.A. to pick up Giles at the airport?"
"No, Will. He told us that he'd arrange a shuttle to the one here. He should be getting to L.A. in another half an hour or so, then here a bit later... So another two hours probably?" Buffy looked at Spike for confirmation and he simply nodded in agreement.
"Well, I'm gonna go lay down and rest for a bit if nobody has any objections. I'm pretty tired after that." Willow didn't wait for an answer as she walked past them heading for the stairs.
"Actually, that sounds like a good idea. We were up late last night and probably will be tonight as well. I think I'll catch a quick nap too, Buffy. Wake me when Giles calls from the airport." The brunette gave Buffy a quick hug then followed Willow up the stairs, turning toward the guest room.
Spike had simply leaned against the wall next to the door. Now he looked at Buffy. "Seems like just you and me, love. I think we should talk."
This was what Buffy had wanted to avoid, the time to talk uninterrupted, until after she had some more answers. Not that I think they are gonna be any different than what I've already been told as far as Spike is concerned. "Okay. D'you wanna sit here or..." She asked him slowly, looking around the room.
"I think some privacy might be in order here. We can talk in your room. Tha' door will shut so we don't get interrupted and you've got a phone right there." He knew she would be listening for her Watcher's call and he wanted this next two hours to work some things out with her if they could.
"I... " She barely breathed the word, wanting to object, knowing how dangerous it could be for her own self-control to be alone with him. She already felt so out of control whenever she was with him.
"Said talk, Buffy. That's what I meant."
She had the grace to blush and look away as she agreed. Without vampire hearing, he'd never have heard her.
Without a backward look, Spike headed up the stairs to Buffy's room where he shed his coat and dropped it over the back of the chair, then sat down on the floor next to the side of the bed.
Buffy glanced at the bed and thought it was all too close for comfort for just talking, but sat on the floor facing the blonde vampire. "Okay. What did you want to talk about?"
Buffy knew she was stalling. She didn't think it was going to help her very much. Spike seemed to have a much different attitude since... well, since the first tine they'd been together.
"Oh, the moon, the sun.... What tha' bloody Hell do you think I want to talk about? Us!" Spike jumped to his feet and started pacing rapidly. Two steps, turn; two more steps, turn back. He stopped and made an effort to take a deep unneeded breath to try to curb his frustration. "Buffy... I'm sorry, Love. It's just been..."
Another deep breath as the vampire pulled his own shredded self-control back around him. He knew getting upset would only push Buffy further away, further into the near panic he saw shining at the edges of her eyes. "Okay. You know I love you. I know you feel something for me even if you've not figured out what yet. You called tha' cheerleader to get her to tell you what you feel about me."
The blonde vampire knelt in front of her with preternatural speed, gently taking her face between his hands as he looked into her eyes. "I know what Cordelia told you. I know what the thing in the energy at your... where Willow did the ritual, told me."
Buffy placed her hands on top of Spike's cooler ones. "My grave, Spike. You can say it. I know what it is."
He shook his head slightly as he looked at her. "No. I mean, I know what it is too. I know what you had to do, that they left you there, that you had to..."
He pulled his hands away from her and turned away, still crouched on the floor, his voice low and full of the anguish and uncertainty he felt. "You had to dig your way out like a vampire, like the monster I am. I know I'm a monster, but I also know I love you. I'm not worthy of you, no matter what it said."
Spike stood abruptly and walked across the room, stopping just short of the edge of sunlight around the curtains over the window.
Buffy pulled herself from the floor in one graceful movement and walked silently to her lover, laying her hand on his shoulder. "I know what you are. And... I think I'm finally realizing that you're no more of a monster than I am." She felt his muscles tense under her hand, like steel springs wound too tight.
"All of us... You, me, Cordelia, Willow, Dawn, Anya... The only truly 'normal' one of the bunch of us is Xander. Even Giles has magickal ability."
The muscles beneath the black tee shirt relaxed ever so slightly under her hand. "I'm afraid, Spike. I'm afraid of what I might be. I'm afraid of not feeling. I'm afraid of what I might be feeling. I know I can't stay away from you. I know the only time I feel anything is with you. I've been here before... in a relationship with a vampire... and it all turned really, really bad."
The blonde vampire turned slowly, catching her hand as he turned, holding it to his chest. "I'm not him, Buffy. I'm just me. I don't have a soul and I won't make any excuses for that. But I'm a good man and I'd do just about anything for you. I've tried to show you."
Blue eyes looked deep into hazel green ones.
"You have, Spike. I'm just... afraid."
Without another word, he gently pulled her to him, gathering her into his arms and holding her close. He felt her rest her head on his chest, heard her exhale. Heard the tiny whisper that only a vampire would hear.
"This feels so good. Can it be wrong?"