Title: Nightshade: Born into Shadow
Author: JINX Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive comments always
welcome: jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: S/A. D/D, assorted other pairings
will come and go throughout the series.
Rating: Mature Readers 18+
Spoilers: Minor ones for Buffy and
Warnings: Mature reader 18+. There's
Violence, Adult language, situations, and content. There will be some character
bashing here or there as pasts are dealt with and put into perspective.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of
harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their
owner and accredited license holders.
Writer's Notes: This story takes place in an AU
setting. Basically season 5 of
Writer's Credits: Various songs are used and they
remain the property of their owners, licensees, authorized agents, labels, and
services. The majority of the art being used belongs to either the ever
talented Hobbit or to me (JINX). A poem from
Writer Websites: JINX's Website: Shadows In A Mirror: Her Personal Archive: Nightshades
JINXI's LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/jinxeffect
The Crypt: http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/crypt.htm#buffywatcher
Distribution: If I've already been given
permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If I
haven't and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email
me and tell me where it's going so I can visit.
Summary: Wolfram & Hart's meddling with
destiny and the powers of life and death affords the Powers That Be an
unprecedented chance to right the imbalance and two fallen heroes return with a
new mission.
Important Note from JINX about this story:
This is a very special story and it features a fully
downloadable SOUNDTRACK as well as various pieces of artwork that help to set
the atmosphere or enrich the story. At various points in the story you'll be
prompted to listen to a particular track of music or view an image or gallery
as the story progresses. ** WANT THE
SOUNDTRACK? CLICK HERE or HERE!
If by some chance the link expires or fails email me and
I'll send you a new download link. ** I'd suggest doing this before you read
the story :o). I hope that you enjoy this multimedia experience :o).
** Dedication: I
crafted this project for the second annual Forging_Ghost Anniversary Ficathon,
Hugs Stony Darlin', and for Luba, Happy Birthday! Special thanks going out to
Myst and Mandie for beta'ing this monster, it was a huge job so thank you gals!
**
Prologue
The change happens as swiftly and
silently as a wave breaking over the ocean. His eyes snap open and he knows
that he is far from the simple wood and stone home he's fashioned with his own
hands. Drogyn doesn't need his eyes to know that wherever his body may lie, his
spirit has been drawn into a communion that he has not felt in countless centuries.
He can feel the pulses of eldritch power as it moves to and through him
anchoring him to this time and place free of his physical form.
His eyes slide open and the sight of
gently swaying purple Weeping Willows and the gently frothing course of the pinkish
river beyond, the soft mauve grass beneath him, and the softly fluffy golden
hued clouds above him reinforce his impressions. The otherworldly surroundings
seem a fitting background for the serenely smiling woman across from him.
Gentleness clings to her as tightly as the rich scent of spring in a field of
ripened blooms and he knows at once that he is in the presence of one the
blessed.
Her hair is rippling fall of gold
and tawny waves shot through with silver, cascading in softly to her shoulders
where the ends curl in slightly just
below her collarbone. A silken sky blue, hooded tunic flutters in gauzy layers
over a simple ankle length skirt composed of countless layers of golden yellow
tissue thing silk, overlapping and angled to form the staggered handkerchief
hemline that all but obscures the delicate silk slippers, coloured to match her
tunic, protecting delicate feet. A sleeveless golden yellow robe of sturdier
white silk embroidered brocade is set over all held by a
unpretentious gold girdle that matches the wide, vaguely Egyptian style collar
that rests around her throat, the point almost touching her collarbone. A sign
of respect even as it is a burden and he knows that he was right about whom
this woman serves.
"Who are you Milady? You bear the
seal of a Blessed and that is a very rare thing in this age."
"I'm
"It has been a long time since the
Powers have called me for an audience. To what do I owe the honour Milady?"
Drogyn asks quietly. "It must be serious for you to call on me after all this
time."
"You have our apologies for that
"The Dark Ones have grown so
strong?" Drogyn asks perplexed. "How could that have happened? It has not
happened in millennia untold, that the checks and balances that maintain the
status quo should tip so precariously...?"
"The Senior Partners of Wolfram
& Hart have spread their evil as insidiously as a cancer, infecting one
cell at a time. Their arrogance however has provided up with the opportunity to
undo what they have done to a great degree. Their interference with the life
paths of so many has given us the chance we have been awaiting. The Champion
has been led astray, his Seer rendered powerless to guide him and his destiny
fouled and twisted to their designs."
"You will interfere directly?"
Drogyn asks surprised. It has never been the Powers' way, to interact directly
with their charges. Where evil provides the easy answers, good only provides
the clues to let one find the path for the self on the journey. "Have their
trespasses been then so great?"
"In truth they have reached the
brink of undoing the fabric of reality itself. All that was to happen has been
tossed to the winds of random chance and it is no longer clear what must be,
what is choice, and what is chance. They have undone the tapestry of untold
lives with their machinations."
"What can I do, Milady? I am bound
to the dimension in which the Deeper Well exists and I may leave only in the
pursuit of my duties lest my aging be renewed and my immortality forfeited. It
is so by the command of the Powers and those in service to the Dark and feared
the power of the Ancients. As I am bound by it; so to must you be." Drogyn
cautions with a serious expression. "You will ask me to leave the Deeper Well
in body and I will eventually die as time passes and there will be no Guardian
to take my place. It took many Human lifetimes for me to be selected to the
satisfaction of all and it would take as long again. Have I failed in my
duties?"
"No, Drogyn we are well pleased with
your service. What we will ask of you is a service to us that you are uniquely
qualified to render. We cannot act directly against the Senior Partners or
their agents. We will require assistance from agents that can operate in the realm.
As you have said for various reasons you cannot be called upon in that capacity
though we are working to resolve that. We believe that we can force them to
make certain... concessions... about your circumstances."
"Who will be your Champion, Milady?
You have said that the Champion cannot be relied upon and that the Slayers have
compromised their honour. Who then would be left that is strong enough to stand
in their stead?" Drogyn asks; confused about what the Powers intend to do and
his part in it.
"The Deeper Well lies at the crossroads of
many realms and it lies outside the sphere of power exercised by both ourselves
and the Senior Partners, does it not?" Drogyn nods in response to
Drogyn nods solemnly. "The Well is
hostile to all but its own magic and that which came before all things. The
Well abounds with the powers of those that slumber within but there are surely
none in this realm that could exploit them? It will defy any magic known to
modern men, Milady. I know of no one
powerful enough to break the protection that sheathes the Well."
"That is very likely a truth, from
within the Well that is. We have uncovered a plot from without the Well to free
one of the Ancients and further manipulate
Drogyn is profoundly shocked.
"Milady, surely such a thing would prove as dangerous for them? The Ancients
were a danger to all; it is why the unprecedented move to create the Well was
undertaken by all the Powers, High and Low, to secure them for all time."
"From what we have learned they set
in motion plans that would... leash... the Ancient and make the threat to them
minimal, while stealing yet another piece of
Drogyn catches his breath at the
sight of the man. He's perhaps not classically handsome in the typical sense,
his features just a little too close together, the mouth just a touch too
delicate, his eyes just a little too large but they meld into a most pleasing
whole. Unlike
"Greetings,
"A fine pleasure it is to meet you
as well
"Oh yes I'm sure we will be great
together." Drogyn replies without thinking, entranced by the sound of that soft
Irish brogue. His cheeks flame as he realizes how that must sound to his
audience. "In aiding the agents of the Higher powers that is." He adds
hurriedly.
"Yes that too." The smile finally
blooms but is quickly chased behind a serious façade.
Drogyn's blush grows as the soft
rumbling reply is voiced so low that he's not sure that he heard
A curiously affectionate smile
brings a glow to
They stop beside the frothing pink
waters and the rippling current stills to mirrored glass perfection with a wave
of
The image that forms is a shocking
one as the trio of tandem gasps can attest to as they watch Spike's last year
flash before their eyes. From his choice to stay in Sunnydale after Buffy's
death and more telling the willingness to stay despite her treatment of him.
They watch through the trials that heralded the return of his soul and the
triumphant and tragedy of last battle for the Hellmouth.
The scene changes again and the
indrawn breaths sound out again at the sight of a blessedly bare Spike, curled
up and seemingly asleep. They can see nothing around him but an indistinct haze
of pale light and shadows. He appears to be lying on a field of velvety red
fabric, nude but for the mane of moonlight pale hair; that must easily reach
his hips if he were standing; that winds around him like a cloak. From all
appearances he is peacefully sleeping but the lack of any signs of movement,
even breathing, is as eerie as it is captivating, like staring at a fine painting.
"That is
"From what I've just seen it would
seem that he takes after
"That is a matter of some
complication and why it is essential that it be your first assignment
"And if he can't prevent
"Spike's essence will be released
but without a physical body to return to he'll be left as insubstantial as a
whisper, bound to the LA Office of Wolfram & Hart until the architect of
this tragedy is ready to proceed to the next phase of his plan."
"You understand now, why this cycle
must be interrupted and the events halted." Tara states, definitely not
phrasing it as a question as
"And once I have the amulet what do
we do then? How do we help Spike regain his physical form as he must surely
have to function efficiently as your agent?"
"That's where Drogyn comes in and
that which the Senior Partners have thought to use for their gain, the Ancient
"What am I to do Milady? My skill
with the sword is formidable but I am no Master of the spell such as this would
require I think." Drogyn asks nervously.
"You do yourself an injustice
"And what will he be if we do that?
The powers of the Ancient were infinite and extremely unpredictable at the best
of times; can the results of such tampering truly be predicted with any
assurance?" Drogyn worries. "Is there any assurance that
"Spike has slumbered for nearly
eight centuries within the amulet but he is not aware of the passage of time in
a conscious state. Mercifully he exists in an eternal twilight of dreams as he
slumbers in a state of hibernation. His sanity is intact and he will need the
strength that such an age brings to survive the resurrection he must be
subjected to if he is to be restored as he was; perhaps better."
"You've said that there's a plan to
make him corporeal again in the works?"
"Perhaps but the architect of the
plan has been eluding us as well as his former... employers. We are unsure as to
how he's accomplishing it but it must surely be at great personal cost. As it
stands not only couldn't we find him in time but we couldn't trust that the
means he found to make his plans happen wouldn't be just as harmful to Spike.
It must truly have been a Devil's bargain to have secured the means to make
this happen. It would be advisable to not rely on such a man or whatever
resources he may have at his command.
"
"The Senior Partners were the
responsible initially for the plot to ensure
"And at some point that bottom
feeder Lindsey found out what happened to Spike and decided to use him in his
little attempt to unbalance Angel right?"
"You'll return in the place where
you... passed... from existence; or as near as possible since things may have
changed in the meantime. My spells will shield you from being detected for no
more than four days. You have that long to retrieve the amulet and return to
Drogyn at the Well. I will ensure that Drogyn has the knowledge that he needs
to free Spike."
"I'll get him safely away, I give
you my word."
"I have placed the knowledge that
you will need in your mind, concentrate and it will come to you. That is all
the help that I can offer you; I wish it were more but the effects of my magic
will allow you to cloud the minds of anyone you run into except for Angel. It's
possible that his senses will see through the deception so try to avoid any
Demons."
As
There is a blinding flash of green
energy and a miniature explosion of atmosphere and then
"Will you be alright, Milady? You
channelled a lot of power and you are still holding us here beside, the strain
must be unbearable." Drogyn asks worriedly, smoothing his hand over
"A few centuries of sleep and I'll
be fine. We must hurry, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold the threads of
this dimension together and anchor you here."
"Can you pass me what I need to know
directly to me, like you did with
Drogyn founders briefly as he
accesses time beyond time, reality upon reality, as he slips into the eternity
that is
His eyes open to the familiar
surroundings of his home and he smiles at the reassuring pressure on his chest
and he looks down into
"How did you... how am I here... am I
here?"
"No offence, Milady, but while the
Powers may have been responsible for the creation of the Well it has long been
my domain and no one knows it better than I. You may visit and your form will
be as tangible as it is anywhere else. This is a crossroads of souls and I have
met many earth-bounds in my days as Guardian here. The Well attracts such
spirits and harbours them within its protection. Would you like to see the
greatest secret of the Deeper Well? It is not that it exists or the sleeping
captives it guards but what it protects." Drogyn offers and
Drogyn rises from the thick wool
carpet that cushions his meditation nook and extends his hand to
Her eyes slide from the roof and
walls to the floor as she slowly spins to take it all in. The floor is a rich
mosaic of naturally honey-toned woods that would shame the most expensive
flooring she's even seen. She kneels and brushes her palm lightly over the
surface and pulls it back with a surprised gasp.
"It's alive! I can feel the
life-force running through it like a pulse." She's entranced as she walks
around the room touching everything she can reach, the shelves, walls, it's all
made of seamless wood and it's all alive. "This is amazing, all of the wood,
it's alive."
"Yes, come with me." Drogyn takes
((Begin Track 1 at this time. I'd
suggest a low ambient volume))
Tara walks to the edge, sliding her
palm over the railing and sighs as she shivers faintly as she looks at what
lies beyond. She can hardly believe what she sees and can only stare helplessly
entranced. They are easily forty feet in the air, standing on one of many
ingeniously crafted wooden platforms that wind about a truly gigantic
collection of trees that would dwarf the giant Redwoods she saw on a family
vacation as a child.
A series of wooden walkways,
graceful spiralling staircases, artfully created bridges, illuminate a small
but surprisingly thriving village unlike anything she's ever seen or could have
dreamed. She can see people of every description... and species... she could have
imagined and even some that she never truly believed were real, going about
their daily lives in apparent unconcern for a stranger's arrival amongst them.
She can see beautifully crafted
windows and doorways that mark chambers and openings in the immense wood of the
trees as though grown specifically into those fantastic shapes. She immediately
notices that doors seem to be absent, where privacy is required curtains of
draped gossamer seem to suffice. She marvels at the faint aura surrounding
almost everything in sight betraying the fact; as fantastic and unbelievable as
it is; that nearly everything is still thriving and alive. Where the bridges;
gracefully supported by clever interlacing supports that look like woven
branches; extend between the large trees, climbing vines of some sort have been
carefully tended into living canopies. She imagines that even in rain or snow
or heat of day, the bridges beneath would well shelter anyone using them.
Safety and comfort are obviously factors as every walkway, bridge, stairway,
and thoroughfare is railed and trellised.
"This is amazing. It looks like
everything is made of living materials."
Drogyn leads her to the edge of the
walkway and smiles at her gasp of wonder. "Those that dwell in this place, call
them Home-Trees fittingly enough. There is a caste here that has members very
skilled in the shaping of wood and living growth. You're more right then you
know when you said everything is alive here. With few exceptions, you're
right."
"It's all so beautiful, like a
fairytale. I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't here."
"The trees, every bit of wood, are
shaped from living wood and despite the fantastic and functional form it's
shaped into it remains alive. Everything here is as natural as possible. The hot
water is provided by natural
An antediluvian forest, the likes of
which has been unknown since the rise of mankind stretches out as far as the
eye can see. The gigantic trees are clustered into groupings of nine without
fail, one tree of largest size surrounded by eight of slightly smaller but no
less impressive specimens. The structure has been used to best advantage with
the central trees sporting buildings and judging from the evenly spaced windows
that wind the length of the tree in a graceful spiral, there are more rooms
within.
"As you can see, the trees grow
naturally in groups of nine. The central tree, the largest one in the middle is
called the Mother-Tree; it is always the first to grow. The other trees around
it are called the Daughter-Trees and they always grow in groups of eight
surrounding the Mother-Tree. The people here call each cluster of nine as a
Clan-Tree. Typically each Clan-Tree is home to either a Clan as the name
implies or in some cases extended families. The Mother-Tree is the only one
with direct access to the ground but it would be hard to see the entrance from
this angle and they're usually carefully camouflaged and warded to prevent
anyone or anything that intends harm from passing through it. The large
building there, at the center, that's called the Clan-Hall. It's the central
meeting place for those that call that Clan-Tree home." Drogyn goes on to
explain the unique settlement, smiling as
Drogyn gestures to the distance. She
can see a curious sight. A large inlet that vanishes out some distance away and
no doubt out into a bay of some sort is the only thing familiar to her eyes.
Rising from the water, looking not unlike lush plateaus of earth that look
curiously like islands only the water is very, very far below. She imagines
that on a foggy day the island plateaus would appear suspended in clouds.
Bridges connect the several smaller islands to a larger one and she can see the
roofs and spires of many buildings and the speckled movements of tiny people
going about their lives. In the distances beyond she can just make out the
fantastic shape of extensive stone-worked buildings and even for a Witch well
versed in magic, she has never seen anything so magical.
"The three smaller islands are
called the
She looks all around her and marvels
at the sights and feels as if she's dreaming only she's wide awake, more aware
then she's ever been. "I have never seen anything like this, maybe in a movie."
((To
see some of what Tara sees click here now))
Drogyn smiles and takes her hand and
leads her away towards the walkway that will take them to the Mother-Tree.
"Dreams come from somewhere, maybe yours came from here." He says kindly. "It
is almost time for sunset, it will happen soon." He sounds excited and his eyes
are glowing. He brushes aside a hanging gossamer curtain and gestures
"This is the Clan Hall. It is the
central meeting place for those that share the same Clan-Tree. Typically meals
are served here at three hours past the Summoning Song and it's eaten
communally. Usually everyone that shares a Clan-Tree does their part to
contribute to life here. As my duties are extensive, I am usually excused from
such chores as hunting and foraging, so that I may concentrate on protecting
the Well, and hence all that dwell here." Drogyn inclines his head fondly
towards several playing children, being watched over by a young woman that
sports a marvellous set of fully feathered wings from her shoulder blades.
"Good eve children, Aura." He calls out affectionately.
"Good eve
"Good eve."
A slight bit of pressure on a solid
metal plate in the center and the filigreed gate retracts upward and allows
them to step through into a large stairwell. The staircase winds both upward
and downward from the landing they're standing on. A slender metal pole extends
down the center of the shaft and the gracefully curving stars and railing
system allows a clear view from the landing both upwards and downwards,
"The Protectors' quarters, where
those charged with the safety and defence of the Clan-Tree lived, are stationed
above. The pole allows them quick access from the gaol to the ground level.
That job is usually taken by Demons or half-Demons who find the combative arts
to their taste. There are no protectors here however, as no one has ever been
foolish enough to risk the wrath of the Guardian. I've converted the old cells
into storage rooms and the old dormitory into a study and library. There is a
lovely suite at the very top of the Mother-Tree, that used to be the home of
the Captain of the Guard but it has lain vacant for quite some time now."
Several moments after they've stepped
through, the gate silently slips back down into place. Noticing
"This is your home then and those
that live here, are your servants?"
He answers as he leads
"Forgive us Drogyn. When the Well
was created, I do not think that anyone foresaw the burden it would be and they
considered it only a stop-gap measure. When a century passes with as much
concern as a second time slips away easily. I truly suspect that before... this...
they had forgotten about you."
"You mean they remembered only when
they had some use for me." Drogyn states bluntly but there is no bitterness in
his tone, as she honestly thought that there would be. He catches her silent
look and correctly interprets it. "When limitless horizons stretch out before
you, it's easy to overlook the ants toiling their lives beneath you. Existence
is a balancing act and it is easier to seed chaos then to maintain order. With
so many dimensions to oversee, it is little wonder that they wouldn't bother
with one where they have voluntarily given up their influence?" Drogyn points
out. "It took me several centuries to adjust but I have come to love the beauty
of this place... and the simplicity of being ignored by the Powers." The pair
shares an understanding chuckle.
"When the Powers created the Deeper
Well they had to devise a way to confine beings that could step across time and
space and dimensional voids as easily as we would cross a room. As you know
that could be a very tricky problem to solve. They solved it in a rather
ingenious way. Since the Ancients could travel at will but only one dimension
at a time, they gathered bits and pieces of innumerable dimensions, worlds, and
pockets of existence and wove them all together in a gigantic patchwork, a net
of woven of creation itself. They did their work to a degree they never could
have expected. Disembodied spirits are drawn to the Well like moths to flame
and regrettably often with the same unfortunate result." Drogyn explains. "They
are drawn here and as the sleeping Ancients were confined, so too were they but
the eldritch energies and conflicting realities had another unforeseen affect. It
allows them to regain their physical form but at a price. Spirits enter the
Well but they cannot exit, their physical forms exist only here in this unique
place. Were an Ancient to somehow escape their confinement in the sarcophagi
chamber, they would once more be corporeal as well but just as trapped. Venture
beyond the Well and they would be as shadows and smoke, harmless."
"That is why you were so upset by
the plot I revealed to you?"
"In every prison, there will
eventually be someone with the bright or outrageous idea that will actually
work. It seems that those loyal to
Understanding dawns on
"Well not entirely, they aren't no.
When the Powers created this place and wove the realities together, they
brought more then just the substance of those dimensions here; they brought
life-forms from them all with it. Some were caught in the creation wave like
dolphins are accidentally caught in fishing nets. Trapped here with no way to
return to the dimensions they were swept from, they had no choice but to build
new lives here. In more then one case, entire cities, villages, and families
found themselves trapped here. This has become their home and they live and die
as life does everywhere else. There are some species that measure their lives
in centuries and some that seem as short as a flickering candle's light but
surprisingly there are few truly immortals here."
"I saw that there seemed to be four
or five species represented in that group of children and their young watcher.
She looked like an
"Her kind is called the Aeriad and
in their home dimension it would be you that they would call an
"Forgive me for asking Milady but I
can hear the fondness you hold for him in your voice. It would seem to be
rather surprising for a Human to have such feeling for a Vampire, even a
special one. I have some knowledge of
"You'll find that truer words than
'rather unusual' will never be spoken when you get to know Spike."
They arrive at another cleverly
constructed filigreed-trellis designed door. As with the one above, thin sheets
of golden-bronze metal has been carefully overlaid around the wood like a
protective jacket. It is very clever, creating a stronger door than wood alone
but not compromising the health of the still living wood in the name of beauty.
Living vines, some flowering with a scattering of rainbow coloured flowers,
have been threaded through the slats, cleverly concealing the door behind a
curtain of living greenery.
Tara watches as Drogyn opens this
gate as easily as the other one but for the first time she can see the
intricate collection of a pulley, gears, and counterweights that work it,
sliding the door in slightly and drawing it upward into a carefully fashioned
slot in the wood. She marvels at the efficient design that doesn't emphasize
form over function yet it is still beautiful. As with everything she's seen so
far, it is harmonious and not discordant as most 'civilized' places she's seen
and lived in before. Humans rape the land instead of finding a way to live with
it and welcoming it into their lives as she's seen here. A wry grin crosses her
face. Of course it doesn't hurt to have people capable of bringing about such
wonders of creation using living trees! And people think magic is confined to a
stage in
((Begin Track 3 at this time))
Drogyn steps through the gate and
reaches back to take Tara's hand and draws her after him, allowing the gate to
close after them. They've emerged into a large meadow resplendent with flowers
and plants of every description. Smaller shade loving trees, shrubs, and other
greenery, including grass in the vibrant emerald shade that only grass can seem
to achieve. She can see that life here is carrying on as it is above. A small
assemblage of stone huts, Cotswolds, and other structures are tucked here and
there beneath the shadow of the towering trees. People wave, smile, and call
out respectful greetings as they walk down an artfully created cobblestone
path. The large stones have been carefully placed in a large trench, smaller
stones, and eventually fine bits of gravel have been laid in between to form an
excellent natural and self-draining walkway of sorts.
Tara can see that, as above, the
amazing variety of species is even greater here and she spots a familiar type
here or there from her days on the Hellmouth. Some she is seeing for the first
time, others she's read about in Giles' books that were believed to be extinct.
She marvels at the delicately graceful beings that can only be Elves and her
eyes widen at the sighting of the occasional Centaur, Faun, or Dryad moving
among the more familiar looking Humans. At the sight of the imposing figures of
bat winged Gargoyle-like beings and the sleek furred feline-like humanoids her
breath is sucked in sharply. Drogyn quietly imparts the name of each species as
they pass and she is struck at the sheer diversity.
She chuckles over the curious
looking delicate creatures that resemble a strange cross-breeding between
horses, goats, and rabbits that graze here or there, keeping the grass in the
meadow cropped naturally short. Drogyn tells her they're called Tlik-tlas and
she has to giggle as the name seems to fit the strange but placid beasts.
In the not-so-distant distance she
can see a large swiftly flowing river cutting its way through the forest and
the muted roar in the distance leads her to believe that it probably cascades
like the multitude of waterfalls she can remember seeing in the distant
mountain cities from above. They follow the path towards the river and she
notices that several burly looking types have discreetly dropped in behind
them, remaining unobtrusive yet within sight of them. She can perceive no
menacing quality to their presence and she expects that they are merely there
as guards of some sort. They make no attempt to draw closer as they cross the
large stone bridge that has been erected to span the swiftly flowing waters and
she expects that Drogyn is aware of them but not alarmed.
"They're Hunters from the village,
which is called
"You've done that several times now;
answered a question before I can ask it; how?"
"I think that when you joined our
minds to tell me what I must do to help Spike, that a bond of some sort was
formed. If I concentrate I can almost hear you still. I think that...." Drogyn's
voice trails off and he glances at her sheepishly but the answering warmth of
her smile seems to help him overcome his difficulties. "I think that the Deeper
Well may have two Guardians instead of just one but I don't know how it
happened, Milady, I swear it." He swears in an urgent whisper. "I just thought
to lighten your burden and instead I may have consigned you to share my fate."
His voice is roughened by remorse.
Whatever reply
She glances around and sighs at the
dream like quality of everything she sees. The large roaring river they've been
shadowing throws itself fearlessly off the precipice of rock and hurtles
hundreds of feet below to meld into the waters of the huge bay below. There
must be dozens of waterfalls in total, their crystal waters falling like
miniature diamond prisms until it looks like the air is full of tiny rainbows.
She can see the amazing cities of
stone clinging like barnacles to the rock walls, graceful bridges of
deceptively fragile delicacy spanning the gorge like finely spun marble
threads. She glances down and notices that a series of gracefully inclining
ramps interspersed with level areas and bordered by steps have been fashioned
right out of the cliff rock itself. Polished and scoured by countless seasons
of weather, the strangely opalescent rock is almost glowing with a translucent
radiance in the fading golden orange glow of sunset. No doubt it is the means
by which people and goods make their way from the forest to the sprawling city
of stone that sprawls from the bottom of the cliffs outward. She can see the
boats of every size and description dancing two and fro across the bay from
port to port and dock to dock with some boldly crashing through the waves on
their way out of the bay and towards deeper water looking like skittering Water
bugs on the waves.
She can see the series of
cantilevered suspension bridges that connect the two smaller plateau islands to
the cliffs and interconnect them to each other and the largest of the islands.
Even from this distance she can see the tiny flutters of movement betraying the
presence of people, animals, and life going on. Now that she's closer she can
see that there are windows set into the stone of the strange raised islands,
betraying that what she can see on the surface is only the hint of the wonders
they must hold.
She's turning to ask Drogyn a
question but she's surprised when he gently turns her away and gestures to the
mouth of the bay where she can see that the sun is almost going to touch the
water. He quietly lays a gentle fingertip across her lips to silence her and
smiles eagerly.
((Start Track Two Now))
Just as the lowest edge of the sun
kisses the horizon an amazing sound that seems to echo from every direction
rises in a wordless melody. Reverberating from the stone of the surrounding
cliff walls the achingly beautiful song seems to fill the air.
"It is called the Summoning. Every
sunset the Priestesses sing, saying farewell to the day and welcoming the
night. It begins always from here but the Priestesses move out in orderly
increments. Even now this song is spreading out, like the ripples in a pond
after a stone is cast into it. The Reverend-Mother begins the song and it is
picked up by every Priestess and carried to the next. It alerts the faithful
that the hour of prayer approaches. Those that believe in their teachings will
gather for the evening prayer at moonrise summoned by the singing. By moonrise
that song will have been carried unbelievably far and it all starts from here."
"Priestesses; whom do they serve?"
"They are known collectively as
Seekers for their calling. They seek to find those qualities which are the best
in themselves and in others and develop and encourage its growth. They are an
ancient sect, the origins of which have been lost to history; as long as this
place has been, so they have been. They practice a rather unusual tradition of
gender segregation, with the Priestesses of the sect living apart from their
male counterparts. They are a rather special and fascinating group."
"Please tell me more about them?
They do sound fascinating."
"The larger of the two smallest
islands is called the Isle of Ceres and it is the home of a Clan of Priestesses
known as the Daughters of Gaia. The other island is the Isle of Cernunnnos and it
is home to the males of the Clan who call themselves the Sons of Tammuz. The
Priestesses are Healers, Counsellors, artists, and sages while the Priests are
scholars, scientists, warriors, and wizards. It is their way to keep the
genders strictly segregated." Drogyn explains slowly, hesitating now and then
to refresh his memory.
"They believe that men and women have
different varieties of skills that they are suited to perform to the betterment
of all. They believe that to live together would distract them from the purpose
they are intended to fulfil. When a Priestess feels it is her time conceive she
will journey to the Monastery on the Isle of Cernunnnos to live among the
Priests for a time. For many Priestesses it is the first and only time they will
visit their brethren of the Sect. At some point during the visit the Priestess
will meet a compatible mate and she will conceive. She remains in a special
suite of chambers at the heart of the Monastery, protected by the Priests until
her labour begins. The Reverend-Mother of the Daughters of Gaia and a
contingent of Elder Priestesses will attend their Sister Priestess. If the
child is a daughter, the Priestess returns to the Isle of Ceres almost
immediately after she recovers from the birth. If the child is a son, the
Priestess remains in the Monastery for one year, feeding and tending her son
but at the end of that time she gives her son to his Father and returns to her
Sister Priestesses." Drogyn explains.
"Males choose to live sequestered in
the Monastery and pursue their personal enrichment. I have never heard of a Son
of Tammuz that has left the Bay and its surroundings willingly; it is the
Priestesses that are charged with leaving their Sisters. The Daughters of Gaia
spread out in a precise pattern. Every six years the novitiates of the sect are
divided into groups of twelve and sent from the temple with pilgrims of the
faith that will have begun to gather, awaiting the ritual exodus. They travel
from the eight cardinal directions, spreading out like the spokes of a wheel.
They travel the same path as their Sisters before them, walk in the footsteps
of their ancestors. There is a temple every twelve miles distant from here.
They journey until they reach the farthest temple and then they walk twelve miles
beyond it. There they will stay, joining with the pilgrims accompanying them
and those that have joined their faith along the way and a new temple is
erected and a new village is settled around it." Drogyn explains from memory
and recollections from many such journeys starting out. "When the next
pilgrimage sets out, it always passes through the other temples and at that
time the senior Priestess of each Temple sets out with an escort of new
initiates for the sect and returns to the Bay. In this way, the elder
Priestesses are returned to the Isle to teach the next generation of her
Sisters."
He notices that
"Why don't I take you to see
Catheryne? She is the High Priestess of the Isle of Ceres. She'd be happy to
answer all of your questions about the Sect and about this place and you would
be safe among them. I'd feel better knowing that you were there among them
while I prepare things as you've directed to return Spike. I must enter the
heart of the Well itself and it does not always... deal... well with visitors."
Drogyn says, the tone of his voice sounds distinctly worried.
A tall, willowy woman emerges from
the cover of the forest, her footsteps silent despite the layer of drying
leaves littering the ground. She is dressed in a simply elegant and functional
style of clothing that is well suited to living in the forest. Dark brown
flat-soled leather boots and forest green leather leggings protect her legs.
The hilt of a dagger peeks from an unembellished sheathe strapped around a
calf. A flowing thigh length tunic made from finely spun cotton is fitted to
her torso by a complicated front-lacing dark brown corset-like belt that laces
up over her flat stomach. An unadorned hooded thigh-length forest green cloak
spun from warm looking wool keeps the chill winds at bay. The strap of a quiver
crosses diagonally over a shoulder and buckles to the waist corset. The tufted
shafts of arrows peek over the back of one shoulder from the quiver. A small
but powerful looking short bow, crafted from a rich reddish-brown wood and
glowing with careful care and attention is carried with an easy grace in one
hand.
As she approaches them, the bow is
slipped over her head and angled to rest opposite the quiver and a slender hand
sweeps the hood of the cloak back to rest against her shoulder blades. She is
an amazingly beautiful woman and judging by the short, bluntly pointed ears and
luminous lavender purple eyes, she has least some elfin blood. Her hair is a
gorgeous shoulder length fall of bronze, gold, and brown with some silver
strands adding some highlights through the curls and waves. A simple circlet of
braided dark brown and forest green leather rests on her forehead to tame the
thick mane of hair. The trailing ends of the leather are strung with a
collection of beads and colourful feathers and drapes artfully along one side
of her face to brush a shoulder.
The woman moves forward with an easy
grace that brings a smile to
Drogyn moves forward to meet the
woman with an affectionate kiss on the cheek as he wraps an arm around her
shoulders in a brief hug. "Tara this is Dyani, she is a
"It is an honour
"Nara A'in Janai, what is that?"
Tara asks quietly, ducking her head to avoid Dyani's frank and roaming gaze and
blushing madly.
"
"It sounds like a lovely language,
very musical."
"Aye, Mistress tis
indeed." Dyani replies. "It means '
"
"Of course,
"What does
"It means Father. Dyani's Father was
killed before she was born and sadly her Mother has never truly recovered from
the loss of her Mate. She left the Clan and me to raise Dyani and her twin
"What do their names mean?" Tara
asks, watching as Dyani repeats the unusual whistling call.
"Tashi means Butterfly, Yonah means
Crow, and Dyani means Fox, specifically a Vixen. Ahhh, here comes our ride."
Drogyn motions towards the Cliffside.
A metal and leather harness is
fitted around its chest and a small half saddle rests at the base of its neck
just above the point where the wings join the body. A waif-slender form,
looking remarkably child-like in size is settled with easy grace on the saddle.
>From the precise control the small rider is wielding over the gigantic bird,
it's obvious that the delicate man is anything but a child. A simple wicker
basket of wood and leather reinforced with a thin sheathing of silver metal
dangles from a special perch held in the powerful back legs.
Drogyn and Dyani close ranks around
Suddenly her world narrows to rich
Mahogany hair, luminous Lavender eyes, and petal soft lips and lush curves and
"We seek the Isle of Ceres and the
Realizing what her Godfather is
going to ask, Dyani gestures with her hand. "I will remain with her
"I appreciate the offer Dyani but
what I must do will call up the powers of the Well and I could not guarantee
your safety as a child of
"What must you do
Tara doesn't hesitate to explain,
her lingering connection to Drogyn tells her Dyani can be trusted. "I have a
friend, a good friend, who is trapped through no fault of his own. He was, is,
a hero and he sacrificed himself to protect everyone even though he was never
appreciated. Another friend,
"You are one of the Blessed are you
not?" Dyani asks perceptively, not surprised when
A blushing
"Welcome to the
"Greetings,
"The Reverend-Mother will be
overjoyed to see you again; it has been too long since your last visit." Oona
replies with a smile but
Dyani takes Tara's hand and helps
her down from the gondola basket as Drogyn pauses and says something to the
Flyer's rider, who calls down his reply and Drogyn jogs over to join them in
their walk over to the Priestesses.
Oona greets them with fond hugs and
a series of respectful nods are exchanged with the other two Priestesses; who
politely withdraw inside after greeting them.
"How is she doing Oona?" Drogyn asks
with a sadly serious expression.
"We have done all that we can Lord
but to all things there is a time and I fear the Reverend-Mother's time draws nigh.
The Healers are managing her pain but we cannot stop the decline, she is in the
winter of her life and soon Gaia will call her to her arms." Oona replies in a
sad but resigned voice. Her eyes find the stranger amongst her friends and they
widen. "You are a Blessed One are you not?"
"The Reverend-Mother Catheryne of
Aneas is dying, Mistress. For nine centuries she has served Gaia with her
life-blood and the cost of that service can be grave at times. She is reaching
the end of her life cycle but her wisdom is greatest of us all and it will be a
significant loss if she is lost before more of her knowledge can be preserved.
If you can help us to help her Mistress, we would be grateful." Oona entreats
earnestly and
Drogyn sighs sadly. "I cannot stay,
I have duties that I must see to or there will be Hell to pay; literally. I
will return as soon as I able to see her. I would like to leave
Oona nods respectfully. "It would be
an honour to have them visit us Milord. We will guard them as our own until
your return."
"Thank you, Oona. I know that
they'll be safe here and my mind rests easy with that knowledge." Drogyn bows
politely and with a quick hug for Tara and Dyani, he hurries back to the Flyer
as Oona escorts the women inside and they're launched back into the night
skies.
Spike gave his existence to save the
world and the people he cared for. Now it's time to save him.
Chapter One
Drogyn makes a minute adjustment to the placement of a candleholder and
nervously smoothes the altar cloth for hundredth time. Gentle hands reach past
him to take his own and gently pull him away from the altar with firm but
caring hands.
"Come away from there Drogyn, all that can be made ready is ready and
futzing with it won't change that."
Drogyn sighs and forces himself to relax into the chair and tries to
calm his nerves. "Are you positive that you won't be able to perform the ritual
and spell?" Drogyn asks hopefully, looking up at
She is looking truly lovely in an elegant off the shoulder gown. The
simple layers of silk; in a green shade so dark that it looks almost black in
the golden ambiance of the flickering torches and candles are tailored but
draped loosely. The sleeves are very long, almost reaching the ground; slit
nearly to the point where they connect to the off-the-shoulder bodice and they
fall open to display her shapely arms. Leather gauntlets are laced up her
forearms and decorated with rich gold accents expertly crafted into flowering
vines that decorate the leather. Smaller diameter arm bands of the same design
hug her upper arms.
The gown itself is tailored to her trim but curvaceous body but it has
little shape of its own, skimming her body in an attractive waterfall of silk
layers. A brocade strapless bodice is laced over the dress and hugging her
torso; the emerald and gold threads used in the rich embroidery complimenting
the darkest of greens gown. A gossamer hooded cape; dyed in the same darkest
green that her gown is; is clipped to the brocade bodice by matching cloak pins
in the same flowering vine design on her other jewellery. The diaphanous silk
gossamer hood is centered on her forehead by a simple golden circlet in the
flowering vine design. She looks ethereal and beautiful in the romantic glow of
the flickering flames, the deeply rich gold of her hair showing through the
thin silk. Her hair is braided and coiled neatly at her nape. The attire of a
Priestess of Gaia, suits her very well indeed.
"My bond to
"Hopefully
"
Drogyn pats his thigh and
"Do you regret joining the Sisterhood? You've only been here for three
days, that's not too soon for such a big decision?" Drogyn questions quietly.
"Has Catheryne explained the ritual of the seed to you?" Drogyn asks
seriously.
"No she hasn't, at least not yet. I haven't progressed that far in my
studies yet but I have heard the others discussing a special ritual so maybe
it's that one?" Tara says honestly. "What is the ritual of the seed?"
Drogyn frowns with displeasure believing that the Priestesses should
have told
"The longer that Catheryne has, the more of her knowledge she can impart
through more mundane means. That will lessen what could be lost during the
ritual of the seed when her time draws near. I think they hope that your spell
will be the answer to their dilemma of how to preserve her knowledge." Drogyn
adds sadly. "There is also a darker use for the ritual." He adds quietly. "If a
member of the sect is found guilty of crimes sufficient enough, the
Reverend-Father and the Reverend-Mother of the faith together may use the
ritual as a means of capitol punishment. Despite the success of your spell I
suspect that the ritual will continue to be used for such a purpose."
"I thought that it might be something like that."
"They're important to you aren't
they? The Priestesses I mean." Drogyn asks.
"They need me. All of my life I've wanted to be useful, needed, wanted
to belong somewhere, and to someone. I thought I had that once but it turns out
all I had was rented. Once
"Is that why helping him is so important to you?" Drogyn asks
insightfully.
"It doesn't sound like he has many, if any, reasons to help them now.
Are you sure that he will?" Drogyn asks seriously. "If I was he and they had
done to me the things they've done to him then I might consider the worth of
standing idle and dancing on their graves afterward."
"I don't think that he will help them."
After a few minutes he opens his eyes and hugs her. "I understand now."
He says quietly. "I think that I could easily hate them for what they've done.
Couldn't they see what an asset he was?"
"I think that the problem was that they only saw him as an asset to be used and abused and didn't bother to
ask themselves if they were treating him right. They were blinded by what he was instead of seeing the truth
that his actions shouted out about who
he was. They looked at him but they never saw
him, not as I did."
Drogyn stands and holds his hand out to catch her shoulder and gently
stops her pacing. "He struck me as a competent warrior. I'm sure that
They turn and watch the doorway and in less than an hour the grins
trying to break out finally explode as
"Milady
"Did you have much trouble? Are you alright?" Drogyn asks sincerely
interested in
"I'm fine; I was able to walk right into the building if you can believe
that? I stopped off and bought a bouquet of flowers and pretended to be a
delivery man, that's all it took to get me into the building. I picked an
executive's name off the building registry and pretended the delivery was for
them. That got me access to the executive floors."
"You know we just hate nosy neighbours." Drogyn and Tara snipe at the
same time, chuckling in unison at
"Why do I have the feeling that you two got all the trouble that I
didn't get?"
The pair instantly sober and nod sombrely. Tara steps forward and takes
Doyle's hand towing him with her as she walks to a quiet corner of the chamber
and kneels, bringing
"We must remain silent while he is in communion; any distraction could be
dangerous for him until the spell reaches its pinnacle. When Spike is released
we must act quickly, Drogyn's spell will release him and break the layers of
spell
"There is a large jewel at the dead center of the sarcophagus,
surrounded by a sunburst pattern, when Drogyn tells us to go, smash the jewel
and get away as fast as you can. Drogyn will be able to contain
Doyle nods and tightens his hand around the metal bar, effortlessly
shifting into his Demon form and waiting tensely. "What if this doesn't work?"
He whispers as quietly as possible to
"There isn't going to be a second chance."
They turn their attention towards
((Start track 5 at this time))
The next two hours pass in a blur for all of them. Drogyn lost in the
spell pays no attention to the world around him or to the pained grimaces of
his companions as the residual affects of the spell wash over them in painful
waves that feel like the prickling of a thousand needles across their nerve
endings.
Suddenly it happens, the amulet opens and explodes outward in a whirling
vortex of fiery embers, flickering flames and tremendous energy. They flinch
with sympathetic pain as they watch what must have been Spike's last agonizing
moments shifted into rapid reverse and suddenly he is free. A slap on the
shoulder from
"Spike, the amulet, you have to smash it!" Tara cries out urgently, but
the weakened and confused Vampire shows no sign of understanding her. "Spike
it's me
Her frantic cries finally seem to register and the addled Vampire reacts
instinctively shifting to his full Demon visage and sweeps up the amulet and
smashes it into the sarcophagus repeatedly until the gem shatters under the
beating.
There is a violent explosion of energy as Drogyn completes the spell and
they're all tossed like rag dolls amidst an agonized roar of hurt.
Tara gasps, regaining the breath that was knocked out of her and hurried
recites an illumination spell that rights the candles and relights the
extinguished wicks. And gasps again at what is revealed.
"Oh my God, Spike?!" Tara stares, dashing a tear from her eyes. "Spike,
are you okay?"
Spike is tall and strong, clothed only in the silken length of his now
pure silver highlighted white mane of hair. He is unmarked, perfect, and
beautiful in a way that should be written of in epics. He is looking at his
hand, flexing it as though he hasn't seen it before. Suddenly it's clenched
into a fist as Spike roars a Panther-like cry of fury and slams his fists into
the sarcophagus repeatedly.
"It's
"Oh God, fight it Spike, you have to fight it!" Tara screams scrambling
to her feet and rushing towards him but Doyle and Drogyn are on their feet in a
flash, planting themselves in her way. "Don't touch him! It could spread to
you!" They bully her back as far as possible and watch as the sarcophagus
cracks under the pressure, one of the gemstones shattering under the power of
those pounding fists.
Tara screams as an inky black thick liquid oozes out of the casket and
pours onto the floor at Spike's feet, flowing upward in crawling centimetres as
it seems to solidify as it moves upwards. A skin-tight bodysuit forms itself
around Spike's body. It travels all the way up to his hair line, as his long
hair is caught up at the crown in a high ponytail, blue and silver streaks
shooting through some of the strands in streaks of colour.
He slowly turns to face them, his mouth quirking up in the corner in his
trademark smirk but the smile doesn't reach his eyes, as glittering and shining
as arctic blue glacier ice. It certainly lives up to the description as they
all shiver at the icy gaze being directed on them as he slowly turns to face
them.
"This will do." His tone is as frozen as his eyes and Drogyn and
A step is all he takes as he suddenly collapses writhing in agony as
screams of pain are forced out of his throat as his muscles jump and spasm
frantically. The sight is horrifying and disturbing and
"Good god, it's the Demon." Doyle breathes as he realizes what's going
on before their eyes, as Spike shifts into his Demon countenance. "It's the
Demon in him! Spike's Demon, is fighting whatever it is that's trying to hijack
his body. The Vampire in him is fighting for dominance and I think its winning!
Come on Boyo, fight with all you've got, FIGHT!"
Soon
It is
"I'll get back to you on that Sweetheart when this fucking nail pounding
in my head lets up." A familiar voice replies weakly. As they watch the blue
streaks slowly seem to change back to faint silver highlights in his pale hair
as he rolls onto his knees, panting harshly at the effort required to move his
overtaxed muscles. He stills for several breath stealing moments before forcing
himself to his feet, swaying weakly for a few seconds until he gets his feet
under him.
As the trio of amazed watchers look on, the dark material of the
jumpsuit suddenly appears to sink into his skin and vanish inside his body as
the rest seems to move and rearrange of its own accord. Sturdy biker style
boots protect his feet, the material painted on his legs melts into wafer thin,
worn leather pants that hugs low on his hips. A simple dark blue leather belt
seems to appear, the end rushing around his body like a fall of dominoes
setting off a chain reaction as it encircles his waist and clasps itself
closed. The thick and somewhat unwieldy leather that was encasing his chest
soften and flows like water, rearranging itself into a dark blue sleeveless
muscle shirt that neatly tucks itself into the pants. A flutter of black and a
duster flows over all settling around his calves with a stylish swish. The
leather band confining his hair is suddenly gone, sending the pale mane
crashing down his back only for the band to suddenly reappear at his nape. From
the front it'd almost look as though his hair was as short as it used to be.
His features ripple and melt back into his human guise on the crest of a deep
sigh.
They're so busy staring at him they almost miss it as Spike slowly
sinking down to kneel on one knee before silently tipping over and passing out.
The sight has all of them scrambling to reach him and
After a moment to recoup his nerves
"It is alive, I can see that much. Is it
Drogyn startles them by suddenly standing and striding over to wear he
hung up his clothing. He quickly redresses before returning to sit beside them
and their unconscious charge. They stifle their instinctive protectiveness as
he draws a dagger from an inside pocket of his robe. They suck in startled
breaths as he let the blade hover above a bare patch of Spike's skin. He moves
quickly slicing downward sharply but to their shock the bare patch of skin is
suddenly not so bare and the dagger is deflected away harmlessly.
Drogyn nods as though that display proved something to him and he slips
the dagger back into its sheathe; that is sown into his robe. "I've only read
about these things in the oldest books. They were rumoured to be extinct well
before my time. It's not
"Is it harmful to Spike?"
"No, everything that I've read would lead me to believe that they're
purely harmless to the one they bond with. In truth Spike may be better off. As
you saw with my dagger, the colony moved to protect its host even though Spike
isn't conscious." Drogyn replies. "When he is awake and aware, Spike may even
be able to consciously affect them just by thinking and concentrating."
"That's why his clothes changed!" Doyle blurts out, blushing faintly as
he sees their surprised stares. "Well from what little I actually remember,
this outfit suits Spike more than that Saran Wrap he was wearing before? This
whatever it is must have picked up on that and changed accordingly?"
"I think that's a very good possibility
"From what I've read, they literally feed on emotion. The more vibrant
and passionate the host, the more the colony thrives. I didn't read anything
that would indicate they were harmful. If anything they were actually highly
prized in ancient times and it was a true mark of distinction to be bonded to
one." Drogyn offers.
"Well if they like vibrant and passionate people they've landed
themselves a smorgasbord this time. Spike has enough of both of those to power
a large city."
"How do you think he was able to overcome
"I know that Spike is possibly the strongest person that I know and that
he's a very formidable man but
"I thought
"When you shattered the
heart-stone
"Why is that? I've heard rumours of Vampires much older then he is and
surely his age should be some protection?"
"All that you've heard are
rumours. The Master was the oldest of the old Masters remaining. If he hadn't
been trapped as he was I then I would have expected that he would have met the
same fate as the others." Drogyn replies cryptically. "Vampiric society is very
hierarchal in structure but it basically comes down to a pack behaviour and
mentality. The strong dominate the weaker who in turn dominate those weaker
then they are but there comes a point when a Vampire becomes too strong."
"I think I get it. They turn on them don't they?!"
Drogyn nods. "There aren't any elders much over Spike's age because
they're brought down by the others of their Order, sort of a ritualized
Euthanasia. The Elders are pulled down and drained by as many of the members of
the Order as possible, the idea being that by doing so their strength enriches
the bloodlines of the Order. The
"Spike is strong. I think that I feel sorry for anyone that's foolish
enough to try."
"I agree, even weakened as it was
"Has he overcome it?"
"I believe that he has won the battle. What we saw wasn't truly
Doyle glances at the still unconscious Vampire, the look is shaded with
pride. He's startled to feel a soft hand cupping his cheek and looks up to meet
"Thank you
"We thought that this would happen and we made some preparations ahead
of time."
Other then his short black hair with two striking highlights of silver
at the temple; his features are almost identical to hers. From their remarkably
similar features he assumes that they're siblings, perhaps even twins. From the
way she dresses the young woman looks like what he imagines an Elfin Ranger
would have looked like from the fantasy stories he remembered from his youth.
The young man in his boots, leggings, and a top that seems to be made mostly of
straps and a fine mesh chain mail with twin scabbards of swords showing over
his shoulders; it makes it fairly obvious that he's a fighter.
The young man moves forward silently, going to one knee beside
Tara stands, shaking her skirts clear with a practiced hand before
clasping her hands loosely in front of her. "
Dyani's smile is a warm and friendly one. "No one lives inside the Well.
We make our homes in
"You won't believe what you're going to see
Doyle shrugs, as best as he can with Drogyn in his arms, and follows
Yonah from the room and back out into the tunnels.
Chapter Two
The sound of Tara's singing finally fades from the darkening day as
twilight falls over the valley and bay. He can hear the haunting refrains
echoing through the forest and beyond the range of his eyesight... if he'd been
looking that is. No his gaze is focused on something much closer to what has
become his home.
He watches as Spike straightens from his customary perch on the highest
deck of the Clan-Tree. No one was really surprised when he'd chosen to make his
home at the highest point and quietest part of the gigantic tree. Given that
he's immune to the sunlight in this fantastic world and his rooms are
predominately made of large expanses of glass, none of them were really
surprised that Spike gravitated to it. Nicknamed affectionately as the Aerie,
those that call their Clan-Tree home swarmed like an army of carpenter ants to
transform the suite of rooms for Spike's needs.
He looks up at Spike and marvels at how well he's taken to life in this
place that frankly is so strange to him but yet he's never felt more welcome
anywhere. Then again Spike was initially born in a much different time than
himself so perhaps his easier adjustment is understandable as well?
Spike has taken to the native dress with remarkable ease but that's not
too surprising as it leans heavily towards leather, suede, and other sensuous
fabrics that suit the blond's dramatic looks. Rather then fighting the
Symbiote, with Drogyn and
Spike's natural skills have seen him slipping into the relatively simple
lifestyle of the villagers with an ease that isn't surprising. His hunting
skills are phenomenal but little wonder as they were honed against the
deadliest most treacherous creatures ever crafted by nature. Man will always be
the deadliest creature of them all and the most destructive.
As he watches he realizes that Spike is watching him in return and he
waves, receiving a regal nod in return before Spike slips out of sight. He
returns in a few seconds with his quiver of arrows, and long bow slung across
his chest, He plants his palms and vaults over the railing with an easy grace
to land on the railing in front of him in a display of power and grace that
never fails to bring his heart up into his throat.
"You're going to give me a heart attack doing that one of these days."
His eyes narrow as he feels Spike lean into the touch, almost stroking
his cheek against his palm in response to the caress. The start of an idea
begins to germinate in his mind but the lyrical whistling catches Spike's
attention and he pulls away before he can say anything. They look down and see
Dyani and a small group of Hunters waving at them.
Spike waves back and giving him a sadly resigned smile he cups his hand
over his shoulder, holding the arrows in his quiver. "See you later
"Yes you will."
A quiet footstep catches his attention as the soft creak of wood brings
his head around to meet Drogyn's concerned gaze. "He still hasn't slept?" He
asks quietly as he walks over to join him at the railing. "I don't understand
why he's not sleeping, he must surely need to by now, Vampire or no?"
"I think that I know why."
Drogyn swears violently. "He wants to sleep but he's afraid isn't he?"
Doyle nods, gazing at the last spot where he saw Spike. "I think he
still wonders if he's actually free. Is he the dreamer who has awakened or the
dreamer who is dreaming he's awake?"
Drogyn sighs. "This can't go on. He won't be able to help anyone else
until he's able to help himself. If his mind is clouded, he'll end up getting
hurt and I think he's been hurt enough. What can we do to help him?"
Drogyn cocks his head to the side in silent contemplation as he watches
"We're moving!"
Several hours later in the half-light of an approaching dawn
Spike walks into his suite, his footsteps so heavy with weariness that
they're actually audible and sound
like rifle shots to his sensitive ears. It's been a hard night of hunting but
they were very successful and the village should have meat for a solid week as
well as some to preserve for the harsh winter months. He can feel the weariness
in every cell of his body. Almost six days without sleep and even the
formidable strength of his Vampiric physiology isn't going to keep him upright
much longer he knows. The sound of a throat being cleared has him stumbling
with a silent snarl but it's not anger at Doyle and Drogyn who silently enter
his sitting room from the stairwell that leads up to his bedroom. He finally
has to face that he's going to get himself or worse someone else killed if he
lets this go on but he doesn't know how to stop it.
There was a time when he would have sensed them here before he was a
hundred feet away, can smell their scents all around him even now but it's like
it's muted from a distance away. He feels like he's wrapped in cotton batting,
protected from the world or confined away from it? Is he still trapped and
dreaming or awake and trapped in a prison he's made for himself? He doesn't
know anymore.
"What's happened? Is something wrong with
They don't answer as they walk closer to him and narrowing his eyes
Spike slowly tracks their movements but holds his place, unwilling to back
down. It's only when they separate Drogyn crossing to behind him as Doyle
continues to stalk towards him does a moment's trepidation enter his mind. He
stares glassy eyed as
"You have to sleep Spike."
Spike inhales shakily as he feels a second set of hands sliding around
his abdomen from behind to work the front laces of his pants. "And you two are
volunteering to be my what, Teddy Bears?" He asks gruffly staring into
"We're going to be your friends." Drogyn corrects softly, his lips
against Spike's ear, forcing himself not to smile at the shivers he feels
thrumming through the tense blond. He keeps his fingers deliberately light as
he slowly works on the laces of the leggings. If Spike truly wanted to free
himself he could and he would let him go but he hasn't missed the fact that the
wilful blond has slowly been relaxing in their embrace. Maybe
Spike shivers as the leggings slip down to pool around his boots and he
takes a deep breath and steps clear of the protective skin and toes off his
boots and willingly takes a step forward, until his chest melts against
"Just let go and let us take care of you." Doyle whispers quietly,
squeezing Spike tightly, more tightly than any human could manage but the Demon
in him rejoices in that freedom. "We've moved our things here, you don't want
to be alone and we don't want to be alone. Come to bed and sleep. We'll keep
you safe and I promise you Spike... Will... you're going to wake up again, with
us."
Drogyn moves around and slides his fingers through Spike's as Doyle does
the same with his other hand and they start to tow him towards the staircase up
to the bedroom loft. Spike surrenders his reservations as he shed his
protective leathers and gives himself over to be towed to the staircase and
upwards.
His eyes are already slipping closed as he's pushed into the lake-sized
feather bed that dominates his bedroom loft and draped in the warmth of bare
flesh and quilts. Sleep comes easily pressed between willing bodies and sleep
claims him before his bed-mates have even settled themselves completely. It's
good to know the difference between waking and sleeping and even better when
you realize that your dream doesn't have to stop when you awaken.
As the sun rises and cast the entangled trio in a nimbus of golden light
that drives the last lingering shadows from the room, it does not awaken them
from their dreams.
Chapter Three
"Everything is almost ready."
Spike looks up from the bag he's carefully packing and sets down the
sword he's been polishing with a careful eye for detail and nods at Drogyn. He
can hear the morose tone and he knows that Drogyn is still unhappy about
"Did he find some apartments that he thought would work?" Spike asks
quietly. He slides the oiled and buffed sword into its leather sheath before
sliding it into the soft gym bag. He nestles it alongside the other weapons
he'll be taking with him. If there's going to be trouble he'd rather have
weapons that he knows he can depend on rather than trying to find a trustworthy
supplier on the other side.
"He found one in
"He's contacted an agent to handle things in
"
"I don't think so. I believe it is a combination of things that have
lead to this. Her mental rapport with myself and her own not inconsiderable
talent for magic, especially Earth magic, that has caused her to bond so
quickly. The Well is very aptly named for it is the Deeper Well in many ways,
including power. With the full might of the Well behind her, she may well be
the strongest Witch in memory. She's certainly stronger than that
"
"Speaking of ghosts, may I ask you a question?" Drogyn continues his
restless wandering around the room. It is a short journey as he wanders near
Spike and finds himself pulled down onto the end of the bed to sit beside the
insistent blond, who promptly wiggles until his head is resting on his lap. He
hides a smile as his hands sink into richly thick mane to stroke Spike's head
and toy with his hair.
"You can ask me anything, Pet. I just can't promise I'll be able to
answer it until I hear the question." Spike purrs contentedly.
"Why are you doing this? Whatever you feel that you may have owed to
them you've more than repaid and with interest. I am somewhat familiar with
"I'm not really sure that I know how to answer that
"
"
"I have to say that I'm rather surprised Spike. I guess I expected that
you would be... angrier." Drogyn cards his fingers through Spike's hair to rub
the sensitive spot just behind his ear, smiling unabashedly as the inevitable
purring begins. In his months getting to know
"Six centuries can dull a lot of pain." Spike turns onto his side,
curling his body up around Drogyn's in a tender embrace but his eyes are
vacantly staring. "When I was a boy, I couldn't wait to grow up and then I did
and all I wanted was to go back to the safety I knew as a boy. I wanted
adventure and romance, I wanted to be the dashing Highwayman that stole riches
as easily as hearts and instead my life was predictable and acceptable and
boring. Then I met a Dark Princess and gave up my life to defy the life I'd
been born into, I defied everything to try and find something. I thought I
would be free and instead I was reborn into a society that was even more of a
prison. Despite my accomplishments, regardless of my age, in defiance of my
nature, and with the best of intentions and all I was to them was something to
be manipulated and used. I was expendable and they used me until there was
nothing left."
Spike sits up and curls his arms around Drogyn's shoulders and rests his
head over his heart, listening to the comforting rhythm. "I remember
everything, I remember them, and I remember how I felt with and about them. I
just don't feel it anymore. It is a
distant memory for me now."
Drogyn cups Spike's head and falls backward bringing him with him as he
lays back, petting him absentmindedly as they curl together. "I'm not sure that
some memories are ever distant enough."
"Perhaps but time can certainly make them less painful to deal with."
Spike states as he lifts his head and swings it around to look at the doorway.
"We're about to have company." He rolls to his feet and holds his hand out to
Drogyn pulling him up after him and heading for the staircase to the lower
level.
They emerge as the soft tinkling sound of the wind chimes; that are a
much more pleasant option than the raucous sound of a doorbell for visitors to
announce their presence.
"Come in." Spike calls out as he walks to a small bar and pours a drink
for Drogyn and himself before walking over to the sunken pit filled to bursting
with large luxurious pillows. Dyani and Yonah walk in with smiles of greeting
as he's settling beside Drogyn and handing him a drink. "Help yourselves to
drinks." Spike offers with a smile, sipping the rich and mildly alcoholic peach
flavoured nectar that he's come to love.
The siblings get a drink and join the older men and Spike notices the
nervous looks passing between them.
"You have something on your minds?" Spike prompts them when they remain
quietly sipping their drinks.
"
Spike nods. "
"It occurred to us that you have an army waiting to be recruited as
well." Yonah says quietly. "There are those among us that will gladly follow you
into battle. Some like Dyani and me were born here in
Spike and Drogyn share a stunned look before turning back to the earnest
pair but before they can say anything Dyani jumps in.
"I know we don't have a stake in the mission you've been given but we
are many and we're strong. We can help you." She offers earnestly.
Drogyn starts to say something but falls silent as Spike lays his hand
on his arm and squeezes gently.
"The offer is appreciated and there may well come a time when it becomes
necessary but that time is not now. Nara is not a utopia, it has it's share of
dangers, some that the people beyond could not even conceive of but for all the
danger, the beauty here is beyond belief. I couldn't begin to tell you how ugly
it can be in the world beyond the gateways that
He hands his glass to Drogyn who takes it and sets it aside with his own
as Spike slides over to hold the hands of the siblings. He turns their hands in
his own, cradling the deceptively delicate four fingered hands and brushes his
thumbs across their palms soothingly.
"You would hate the world that lies beyond, I was born to that world and
I hate it." He tells them honestly. "It is a world where good intentions cannot
overcome a bloodline and actions do not make a man or a woman worthy of a
second chance. You are so very beautiful and skilled and proud... and they would
hate you because you aren't Human. I don't want you to ever know what it's like
to be treated that way. It's an ugly world for what can be a very ugly people."
His tone is earnest and sincere.
"Is it truly that horrible there? Why do they stay?" Yonah asks shocked
that such a world could exist so close to theirs which is so different on so
many levels.
"Unlike the gifted found here, where one is born is where one will
eventually die, they can't conceive that other dimensions exist. They live
their entire lives on a world growing increasingly smaller and with little
knowledge but that which their consciousness has deemed acceptable. They've
raped the planet mercilessly and forced it into submission to the point that
they may well destroy themselves within a few more generations. War, famine,
pestilence, it all runs rampant. Maybe that's why more people are looking for
answers in the old ways? They cannot walk across the barriers, in truth the
majority do not believe there are such barriers to cross much less how to do
it. Trust me when I tell you that you'll be safer here?" Spike looks at the two
young people that he's grown remarkably close to in the six months since his
arrival. Of course little wonder since he's grown to like and respect Drogyn
and the siblings take after their Godfather to a large degree.
"We trust you Spike but there is more to this than our safety. There is your safety and
"And that we can easily conceal. It would take a learned man to see us
for what we truly are and we have other skills to call upon. You know that we
can move without being seen when we wish to. If you do not wish our help with
the fighting perhaps you could use our help to avoid having to fight at all? Our skills are many as you have come
to know and we have all spoken our peace and we wish to help if we can." Yonah
adds passionately.
Drogyn slips a hand over Spike's shoulder and squeezes it gently,
pulling him back away from the siblings to rest against his chest in a
comfortable embrace. "We know that you want to help but the world they'll be
travelling to, it is very different from all that you know, from everything
you've ever known. I have seen it and it is as Spike has said. He was being
generous with what he said."
"We can learn if you will teach us." Yonah's voice is confidant. "Teach
us and we can teach the others who will want to help. You know that there are
some here that have wandered here from that world and there has been some
discussion about them returning. None of them however wish to leave permanently
but we overheard your conversation with
Drogyn nods. "
"Perhaps not but it would ease the way certainly and if it any
reasonably sized Estate it will require a staff? Surely it would be more
logical if people from here were to serve in that capacity? Those that wish to
visit beyond could take turns and
Spike looks impressed. "I have to admit that the idea has merit. We'll
discuss it when
The siblings dive at Drogyn and Spike for a flurry of hugs before
sweeping out with happy smiles, talking a mile a minute in their own unique
code of half-spoken sentences and tandem replies that is rather charming.
"Do you think that
"I suspect that he will. They thought it out well and it would seem to
be mutually beneficial for everyone. I think that the reality of life there
will soon have all but the strongest and most stubborn wanting to hurry back
here. Are you going to be alright with leaving?" Spike glances over at him as
he settles beside him and rests his head on his shoulder.
"I've left the Well just often enough that I don't think it will be too
much of a shock." Drogyn says after a moment. "I think that we're making the
right first move. The architect of the plan to release
"We also have to attend to one or two other matters.
"Have you discussed what to do about the Watchers Council and the
Slayers?" Drogyn asks, passing the glass back after taking a long sip.
"
"
"There is a reason why there were more potentials than actual Slayers.
They trained the potentials knowing that it was possible and indeed expected
that the vast majority wouldn't be called. The training however made them
strong and very fit for what a task that they would be called to fulfil. It is after all human nature." Spike replies.
"Every Slayer is called within a fairly narrow age range, usually at the onset
of puberty their abilities will manifest. The Watchers have learned to use
genetics to classify which potentials have the greatest chance to be called.
They have exhaustive records on each and every potential and slayer ever born
so they have a fair idea of when and where one is going to appear." He
explains.
"When they fail to be called the potentials naturally turn their
attention to other pursuits like a career, marriage and raising a family. It
was an essential part of the mechanism by which future generations of Slayers
were possible. The severe hormonal fluxes a Slayer's body is subjected to...."
Spike's voice trails off in a sigh. "It's nearly impossible for a Slayer to
conceive and when they do it has always ended in a miscarriage due to the
extreme stress placed on their bodies. The Council experimented with
artificially suppressing their hormonal levels but any tampering has likewise
resulted in a miscarriage. Now that every
potential is now a Slayer...."
Drogyn flinches in sympathy. "They're all going to die eventually and
because they can't carry children to term, the Slayer legacy will die with
them." He takes the glass Spike is holding out to him and tosses the contents
back in one gulp and sets the glass aside. "And they don't know that's what's
happened to them?"
"I would have thought so but I don't think they've stopped to question
what happened to figure out what they've done. They've destroyed a very delicate
balance and what they've done, can't be undone. I think if they knew, they'd be
making more of an effort to find and protect the Slayers they have. The powers
told
"What are you supposed to do to help them? It seems to me that they've
set fire to the house while they're still in it." Drogyn's tone is mildly
disgusted but curious.
"There isn't much that we can do to improve their situation but maybe we
can make the lives they have left worth something again. No doubt the Higher
Powers will have some idea about how to replace the Slayers once they have all
gone but if so they have yet to share that with
"So it always is when the Powers clash in conflict which they always
have and always will. At least here we are beyond their very long reach. Are
you sure that you want to do this?" Drogyn turns on his side until he's facing
Spike and can lose himself in those eldritch seas of ever changing hues of
blue.
"I have little choice remaining. Doyle is charged with a mission he
feels honour bound to accept but to do it he needs a warrior, a fighter to be
his weapon. You and he saved me, I can't ever repay that but I can defend you
and I will as long as I am able with the skills that I have." Spike lifts his
hand to trace his fingertips along Drogyn's jaw. "You've given me something
that no one else has ever given to me before. I've never been allowed to choose the path of my life until now. I
am going to fight because it's what I want to do for me and for you. And in the
hope that one day maybe the world I came from will be half as beautiful as my
new home. I plan to make sure we all survive this inter-dimensional chess game."
"I want you and
Spike smiles and purrs quietly as he nuzzles back. "Do you feel
comfortable enough to ask me the questions that you've really wanted to ask me
yet? Maybe, it's something to do with your feelings for
Drogyn is forced to laugh softly. He should have known that the perceptive
younger man would have picked up and understood his unvoiced desires. In the
months they've lived together he's been constantly amazed by the facets this
once infamous Vampire has displayed to him.
"I feel... things... but I'm not sure what it is." He admits in a broken
whisper. "I don't understand what I'm feeling but I know he's very important to
me." Drogyn admits quietly. "And so are you." He hurriedly adds, reaching out
with his hand to thread his fingers through Spike's free hand.
"Just not in the same way." Spike replies quietly. "I understand. You're
attracted to him aren't you?" Drogyn nods and blushes faintly. "You've never
been attracted to a man before?" The knight lowers his eyes shyly and shakes
his head.
"I don't know what to do... how to... what I should... if I'd like it...."
Drogyn stammers but it is cut off abruptly under the tender pressure of soft
lips lightly rubbing against his until they tingle.
Spike rolls to his feet in a gracefully sinuous motion to crouch on the
floor, one arm and leg stretched out fully to maintain his balance and the
others drawn up close for power. A casual flick of his muscles and he springs
over the circumference of the conversation pit and lands lightly on his feet on
the other side, moving forward with the easy sensuality that marks all his
movements. He crosses the room to the full length expanse of windows and pushes
on several of the panes of glass until the swing open invitingly and let the
rising breezes; that always accompany the fall of evening; inside their home.
Drogyn stares at Spike as the fading reddish gold light of the gathering
sunset washes over him. In his time under
He's beautiful in whatever he wears but the elegantly tailored spun silk
garments; that the weavers of the village create to wear in their leisure time;
suit him well. The trousers hug low on his waist and are dyed a rich dark blue
that is so dark that it's almost black. The sleeveless hip length tunic is a
lighter shade of blue and it's crossed loosely over an impressively muscled
chest and held by a dark blue sash the same colour as the trousers. That
trailing ends of the sash are off-center and rest against a sleekly muscled
thigh, swaying hypnotically as he moves. The blue shades of his clothing bring
out the blue of his eyes even more until they glow almost luminously in the
darkening room. As he walks the pale end of his ponytail swings rhythmically as
it curls just above the swells of a truly impressive....
Drogyn clears his throat huskily and stands, climbing out of the comfortable
pit of pillows and joining Spike at the windows. He sucks in a startled breath
as he finds himself yanked in front of Spike, looking out at the beautiful view
beyond the window but that is nothing compared to what he feels. He can feel
the smoothly muscled strength of Spike's powerful form pressed to his back. He
can smell the distinctive scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and a soothing moss-like
woodsy smell that is uniquely 'Spike' to him. He feels the smooth flexing of
his muscles as his arm slides around him from behind. The weight of his hand
fanning low over his belly and flexing lightly has him exhaling raggedly.
"Spike, what are you...?" Drogyn's voice stops abruptly as Spike closes
his other arm around him and gently lays his fingertips across his lips.
"Shhhh, quiet and listen.
((Begin Special track 2 at this time))
They stand and watch the sun dipping down toward the horizon in the distance,
the height of their tree home giving them a clear view above the trees and out
into the bay.
The song of summoning begins as usual but instead of trailing off as
usual a different song begins and it's so beautiful! Drogyn hears the words of
the song and he's captured by what it expresses. He doesn't realizes he's
started to sway until he notices that Spike is following the motion and feels
him gently using his arms to urge him to turn around until they're face to
face. He's drowning in fathomless seas of blue, barely noticing as Spike gently
manoeuvres his body into a slow swaying dance, keeping them pressed tightly
together.
"Love should feel like music that you can feel moving through you until
you can't help but move to meet it and rub against it. It can be slow and
seductive. The swell of the tide breaking into waves on a welcoming shore as
the water throws itself into the land sweeping it clean and clear of what went
before." Spike whispers against his ear in a rumbling purr.
"It can be a powerful and passionate need that makes your heart pound
more than the fiercest of fights. A storm gathering strength as it sweeps in
and unleashes the full fury of nature until all you can do is ride it out and
hope to survive it. Can you feel the music Drogyn? Is it moving through you?"
Spike's voice is a constant whisper of temptation that would liquefy stone.
Drogyn nods mechanically; helplessly caught in the spell that Spike is
weaving. "I feel it in me."
"What you're feeling is the tide of your blood, don't fight the rhythm;
move to meet it. Let it come to you, move through you. Feel the power rising
through your body carried by that tide and hold it deep inside you until it becomes you. Don't fight the feeling or
try and assign it a gender, let your body lead you, not your mind, not what
popular opinion or convention tells you that you should do." Spike's litany of
quiet whispers continues and he smiles against Drogyn's ear as he feels the
Knight gathering his muscles underneath his skin and pushing back against him
in subtle motions.
"You hear the music of your body." Spike purrs softly. "Now learn to
dance to it." He turns his head and presses his lips against Drogyn's, pressing
just enough so that their lips brush lightly. He chuckles as Drogyn nips playfully
at his mouth while trying to force a deeper kiss. He feels his nerves thrumming
to life and when the warm presence presses against his back a few minutes later
he's not surprised.
A sinuous roll of his hips sends a lingering caress before and behind
him as he dances free and the spot that he occupied is swallowed by the tide of
rising emotion. He dances randomly in a hypnotic rhythm that surely no human
could hope to achieve. His body bends in supple grace, his sleek form flowing
into the dance with a fluidity that could only be matched by the waters trapped
eternally in his eyes.
It's like watching the flickering of a flame atop a candle. He is power
and danger, light and shadows, energy harnessed and leashed to a purpose but
only tame within very narrow confines. The possibility always remains that what
is harnessed can also be freed and the power unleashed in a destructive rush of
energy that would set all ablaze in its wake. Their mouths turn in unison to
reclaim the flame raging through their veins and still Spike dances on.
Chapter Four
((Start Track 5 now))
Spike sets the last of the bags containing the things that they'll be
taking with them onto the pentagram painted onto the stone floor. The rune is
easily four feet in circumference creating a circular interior space of eight
feet and despite the pile of neatly stacked bags, there's plenty of room for
people.
On a brief trip that he made shortly after his resurrection; he was able
to track down and reconnected with
No one was really surprised that the number of people wanting to visit,
for even a short time, wasn't that large. They hardly found it strange that
they would prefer
"Are you ready pet?" Spike looks over his shoulder at Drogyn's very
attractive rear end as his head is buried in his pack checking the contents for
the hundredth time since he first packed it.
"Just let me check this one more...." Drogyn's voice is muffled.
Spike shakes his head and walks over and gently pulls him up before
patting his shoulder and kneeling to secure the bag. He lifts it easily and
hands it to a sheepish Drogyn, who only shrugs and looks nervous. "Unless you
packed something alive in there that could be breeding, I think that it will be
okay.
"I'm just a little nervous." Drogyn admits quietly, sighing as Spike
reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it comfortingly. "I haven't left the
well in well over a century, this will be strange."
"We'll be there with you Drogyn. It won't take us long to secure the
ignorant Bastard that was going to help
They smile at Yonah and
"You look terrific Yonah!" Drogyn exclaims in surprise.
"Thanks Pop." Yonah replies with a grin, actually chuckling as he sees
Drogyn do a double-take at his use of slang. "
"Well I doubt anyone will think twice about your name if you hang out
with 'Spike'."
She looks amazing and most astonishing of all;
"You look marvellous Goldie. We run into any male Vampires we can just
stand around because that look is going to slay them dead... again." Spike
replies after an extended wolf whistle and accepts his hug and playful slap on
the thigh for being a scamp. He takes Drogyn's bag and heads for the door to
drop it off in the bedroom for him, yelling for a beer and a cigarette, a
laughing Yonah following him out.
Drogyn wraps his arms around his adopted daughter and sighs. The passing
of the years long ago ceased to bother him. How many centuries can you watch
pass before time ceases to have much meaning in your daily life? All he cares
about when it comes to time are specific instances, time to awaken, time to
eat, time to meet someone, time to sleep... time isn't a dampening shroud for his
life. Looking at his fully grown children however, time is all too relevant. It
seems like only a week ago they were napping cuddled on his lap. They're old
enough to have children of their own now. He's never felt older than he does
right now.
"You are lovely, so much like your Mother." He says quietly as he
presses a gentle kiss to her forehead before she takes his hand and leads him
out of the room to join the others.
They find them lounging around the very large living room. Spike draped
over the arms of a chair sideways as he listens to Doyle's animated tales of
his not so exciting adventures in getting things ready for them. Yonah is
sitting on the floor, one leg curled under his body and the other bent at the
knee with a forearm braced on it. He's happily passing a frosty bottle of beer
back and forth with Spike, taking a sip or two before passing it for the blond
to do the same.
Spike's head turns as they enter and he smiles brightly at them from
upside down as he tips his head over the arm to watch them approach. A quiet
young man appears as if by magic with a tray of assorted drinks and hovers
unobtrusively and waits for them to take a seat. Drogyn naturally hurries to
The young man steps forward and bows politely, extending the tray
towards Drogyn and
"Thank you Amon." They chorus in unison before sipping their drinks.
Amon moves to Dyani and bows again and proffers the tray again,
straightening and moving back after she selects a frosty can of Cream Soda, a
beverage she's fallen in love with.
"Thank you Amon. You always remember what I like." Dyani lifts her can
in a silent salute.
"Gerania asked me to tell you that dinner is almost ready. Tonight's
menu is baked poultry in a light wine sauce served over a bed of baby greens
sautéed with roasted garlic, mushrooms, and sun-dried tomatoes. There's a
Vanilla Flan with candied Pistachios for dessert." Amon informs them.
He follows the semi-orderly stampede headed towards the dining room with
a peacefully serene smile and a proud glint in his eyes. He's never regretted
for a moment, his decision to enter personal service to Drogyn and later his
growing family and he knows that his wife feels the same. It's a decision that
they'll make again without reservation. He returns to the grand kitchen to help
his wife complete dinner preparations. He's gratified to see that the young
human-looking Fyloth Healer, Ciri, and the young human man, Kristian, that has
volunteered to serve as the property's caretaker, gardener, and chauffer are
there lending a hand as well.
It takes them only a few minutes of combined effort to finish the
preparations and Amon leads his wife to the dining room to lay out the food for
the Guardians while Ciri and Kristian take trays of their food upstairs. They
set out the food and fresh drinks and quietly withdraw to enjoy their dinner as
well, joining Ciri and Kristian upstairs.
Chapter Five
After dinner and a brief tour of their LA home away from home, they meet
up in the library conference room and take seats around the lovely Mahogany
table.
((Want to see the floor plan of the condo?)) First
Floor Second
Floor
As the first objective in their offensive is to deal with the traitor
that plotted to release
Doyle quietly hands over a slender stack of thin reports to Drogyn,
keeping one for himself and opening it. Inside is everything that
Drogyn gives them a few minutes to review the files of information and
commit
He looks at each person one by one and receives a sombre nod of
understanding before he continues. "Spike,
"Any suggestions as to how we get him to go with us?" Dyani asks wryly.
"There isn't anything in the file to suggest that he'd be sexually deviant
enough to see the appeal of a tryst with Yonah and me."
"The key to telling a lie is to keep it as simple as possible." Spike
replies with a half grin. "Tell him you have the delivery he's been expecting
and demand he pay you more for the 'special delivery' and he won't think twice.
He's as dishonest as a used car salesman; he'll believe greed to be a much more
reliable character trait than duty or trust."
"That's a great suggestion, Spike; it should work like a charm." Yonah
agrees with a devilish glint in his eye.
"When we have
Spike nods knowing exactly why his presence will be required.
"If he's killed within the influence of the Well, won't his soul become
trapped there as with other souls given new life by the Well even as it traps
him within it?"
"Yes and if he were anyone else that would probably be enough but he's
too dangerous. He can't be trusted any where near
"What happens if his soul is trapped and given new form by the Well but
dies again?" Spike asks.
"He'll join his God as a permanent guest of the Well." Drogyn's voice is
grave but resolute. "I've prepared a sarcophagus for him and
"Is that what happens to everyone that dies within the Well?!"
"Yes and no.
"Oh, that's why so many of the races have rituals of atonement when they
know that their time is near!" Yonah comments with an astonished shake of his
head. "So the Well is built on the backs of the wicked and depraved and using
their 'energy' to protect itself and
"Well that's a lovely future for me to look forward to, should I change
my name to AA now?" Spike snipes with a scowl and a shudder he doesn't bother
to hide.
Drogyn stands and rounds the table until he's behind Spike's chair and
leans over to wrap his arms around his shoulders from behind. "The crimes and
sins that have been laid upon you are unfair but Humans always judge by their
own standards don't they? You were a predator and you lived as one but then
that would probably matter little to a species that is slowly hunting and
raping its world into extinction. If you have to get technical with the
numbers, you died to save billions but I doubt that a
even a thousand lives could truly be laid at your feet. Do humans apologize for
every animal or plant that they eat, feel remorse for the lives lost to sustain
their own? It is a matter of perspective."
"
"There is a very big difference between making mistakes, doing something
bad or five hundred something wrong and truly being evil. You could have killed
the Slayer; you knew that the chip you had at the time didn't work on her; yet
she lives on and you died to make
sure that she did." Drogyn strokes his fingertips along Spike's collarbone
lightly. "I don't know why the Powers feel
Spike clears his throat gruffly and straightens his shoulders and throws
his head back proudly. He's not the odd man out anymore. He belongs and that's
all that he's ever wanted.
"Doyle wants to try and meet with Lorne, a friend of
"
Spike's gaze shifts to
Doyle thinks about that for several moments but then has to nod
reluctantly, accepting that Spike has read the situation correctly.
Spike glances at Dyani again and taps the file. "According to the
information
"It sounds like you know her pretty well." Yonah comments and no one at
the table can miss the slight bitterness to his tone. Not long after seeing
Spike for the first time his pursuit of the fiery blond had begun in earnest
but to no avail and he accepted friendship over romance.
"We... dated... for a while... back in the day." Spike replies quietly,
turning to look at
"Aye he will, with the best of intentions of course, but he'll
eventually do something."
"We need to have our network in place before that happens. The more that
we know the less we'll have to guess about and the safer we'll be. If we play
this right we'll all get out of this alive." Drogyn's tone is quiet but
powerful as he cups Spike's shoulders and squeezes lightly. "We're going to
need a contact within the Watchers' ranks. We'll need to be kept up to date on
what they're up to, Spike."
Spike drops his lashes to shield his eyes so none of them can see the
emotions churning in their depths. "I think that I have someone in mind that
may do if he's still hanging around with those tossers.
"Yonah, you'll go with Spike and watch his back while he's in
"At least the view will be a pleasant one." Yonah replies with a
glittering smile and a saucy wink.
Everyone chuckles and they adjourn the meeting. Yonah and Dyani head off
to pack the weapons they'll be taking just in case and the restraints while
Spike heads out to move the rental truck into the underground parking lot so
that they can load up. Drogyn and
Chapter Six
Doyle leaves his seat and hops up on the table and braces his feet on
the arms of Drogyn's chair, hemming him in playfully but the knight doesn't
seem to mind in the least.
"Is it wise to let
"I'm sure that
"They didn't want him when they had him
Preoccupied, they don't hear the silent presence entering the room but
it takes them only moments to feel the shift in the atmosphere that always
accompanies....
"I may have died for them but I'm living
for you. I know where I belong and it's not with them." Spike tells them
quietly, smiling warmly before crossing the room and sitting beside
"You're not a burden to us Spike. Is living with us making you feel
uncomfortable? We enjoy your company in our lives and in our bed...."
"I'm not uncomfortable." Spike refutes softly. "I think that I may be
feeling too comfortable. It would be
so easy to wrap myself up in you." Spike slides off the table, his hands
gliding over his clothing, removing a piece at a time with no apparent concern
at all for his nudity. His eyes slip closed and his brow furrows for a moment
before the lines of effort are smoothed away.
His skin appears to ripple in waves and darkens as the Symbiote that is
normally hidden under his skin makes it's appearance known.
As before the astonishing transformation starts at his feet as the
Symbiote fashions itself into low-heeled hiking boots in deep matte black
suede. Faded denim jeans; so old and well-worn that it pales to white in
places; race up his legs before diving between his spread legs an back up as a
button-fly. The button at his waistband does itself up as a black leather belt
runs through the belt loops and closes with a buckle identical to the one he
was wearing earlier and similarly enchanted.
A black sleeveless t-shirt in darkest black cotton creeps up his abdomen
and over his chest and down his back and neatly tucks itself in. A dark blue
leather collar runs around his throat like a zipper, dripping down into a
slight vee in the front and a golden cross dips from the lowest tip of the vee.
Pale white gold bracelets of thick chain links encircle his right wrist as a
gold watch on a black leather band appears around his left. The simple white
gold piercing in his navel was untouched and it's still in place, as is the
simple sapphire and white gold stud in his left ear and it's matching twin that
is thrust through the upper curve of his earlobe.
A waist length supple black leather jacket in the familiar aviator style
flows over all as his hair is caught up and bound at the back of the crown of
his head by a thin band of black and flipped clear of the jacket to rest along
his spine. Low profile
"You're getting damn good at using the Symbiote."
"
"In time your connection to the Symbiote will likely deepen and it will
easier still." Drogyn leans over and brushes a fingertip over the cross lying
against Spike's breastbone. "It still amazes me to see that. Do you think the
Powers are responsible for crosses and holy water not burning him anymore?"
Drogyn asks
"Honestly... I don't think that it is."
"Illyria was a strange one as Demons went, a bit of a chameleon. Not
many reliable records survive from the time of the Old Ones but what little
there is leads me to believe that
A faint blue mottling; like the pattern on the coat of a Jaguar; appear
in spotted areas on his face and his neck. He pulls down his glasses to reveal
his frozen blue eyes as blue drips through his mane of hair streaking it with
indigo. The change happens in less than a few seconds and reverses just as
rapidly.
"I'm not sure that it's really
"What sort of things do you remember or hear?" Drogyn asks hurriedly,
wondering just how much of
Spike lets his eyes slip closed once more as he pushes his glasses back
into place as he tries to put the scattered images he's seen like ripples in a
pond of water into words. "I've seen Worlds of torment and of unnameable beauty
and opulent towers as high as small moons. There were glaciers that rippled
with insensate lust." Spike's head tilts to the side. "And there was one world
with nothing but shrimp." His tone is amazed and a little embarrassed. "Well
that had to have been tiresome after a while I'd think." He adds quietly with a
little chuckle but then it's swept away by a sombre expression. "There were
worlds of smoke and half-truths and worlds of screams like blew as constant as
the winds and I walked them all at will. I was as the sun, bright and radiant,
life and destruction, and I was the center of all that there was and now I am
the smoke and the half-truths. The
Spike shakes his head violently as
though clearing fog away and
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that, I'm sorry."
Drogyn chants repeatedly until a tender swipe of a tongue along his bottom lip
silences him pleasantly and he melts against Spike as theit
mouths move together lightly. Spike steps closer pushing Drogyn's back into
"It'd be so easy to hide with you but I've been hiding long enough."
Spike's eyes glitter brightly and a mischievously wicked grin spreads across
his lips. "I want what you have and for once I wanted something and someone
that is just mine. I don't think I could share lovers again, even with my lovers."
Drogyn nods understandingly and the spectre of disappointment dulls his
eyes but
"We found our way to each other because of you. If you can't find the
one that you want will you at least consider...?"
Spike nuzzles
"Tell me what a 'Claim' is Will." Drogyn's voice is solemn and
determined.
"Claims are rarely used in this day and age even among the oldest
lines." Spike starts to say, somewhat confused by why Drogyn would be asking
but giving a mental shrug he tries to answer the question the best that he can.
"In the old days it wasn't unusual for a Vampire of any respectable age and
station to have many attendants other than just their own Minions or their
Childer. At one time it was even common and expected for a
Spike plumbs his mind for the now distant memory of lessons learned long
ago at Angelus' knee and at the end of his fists and fangs. "Vampires were not
always feared and reviled as they are now and people not only knew that we
existed but sought us out. It wasn't unknown for entire generations of one
family to serve a particular
"Like the Lord of a Fief in feudal times?"
"Yes, it was a lot like that." Spike agrees with a nod, leaning back
against the edge of the table as Drogyn and
"That makes sense I guess given the intricacies of vampiric society and
the difficulty of dealing with the complicated relationships not just between
Sires and Childer but between the Orders."
Spike nods and continues. "It's worthy to note that in the time past
that a
"
"Drusilla brought me over but from the start she was weaker than I was.
I arose as her equal and in time eclipsed her. Dru has never bothered to
command me because she can't. I'm not sure why I was... am... the way that I was...
am. I was the first she'd tried to turn and when Angelus found out he forbade
her to ever create another. She obeyed him. I am the first and last Childe of
Drusilla, the Seer."
"She obeyed him even after he abandoned you when he got his soul?!"
"Angelus created Drusilla to
obey him. She could no more defy him than she could beat me in a fight. For
Drusilla Angelus is the only God she sees and his will be the only voice she'll
ever hear." Spike replies quietly.
"Yet she sired you?" Drogyn asks. "Angelus can't be the sum of her
existence if she could see beyond him to create a childe of her own?"
"She didn't sire me to be her Childe, she sired me for Angelus." Spike states flatly, glancing
away from the matched expressions of shock Drogyn and
Drogyn and Doyle look at each other, then sweep a long slow glance over
Spike, before looking back at each other with matching lascivious grins. "Oh we
know why." They say in sing-song unison.
Spike drops his eyes and clears his throat gruffly before and fights the
urge to preen under their regard and hurriedly picks up the thread of his
story. "In the old days it wasn't unusual for a Master to come to regard a
non-Vampire, typically a Human, with some degree of regard. To ensure their
loyalty and to offer them the protection of their name they could choose to
undergo a special rite. The Master offered his mark and his blood to show that
the bearer was under their protection, a valued member of their court. Demons
can sense or in some cases scent such marks and they came to be called 'claim
marks' as that is what they are; marks of possession and regard intended to
protect the bearer. The one to bear the mark is changed in some subtle and less
subtle ways. The claiming forges a bond that would make betrayal very difficult
and only the most foolhardy of Demons would defile the relationship such a mark
betrays. Because Humans don't have a Sire, they have no instinctual need to
obey an elder whereas Vampires do. Only greed or fear could compel them to defy
the Master they were bonded to and greed was all too often rewarded by a
lingering death. As for fear... fear can be overcome, so Human were preferred as
the highest level servant and companions."
"How are they changed by the mark?" Doyle asks, leaning forward in his
chair slightly.
"They take on some of the traits of a Vampire. They'll be a little
faster, healing accelerated, and their senses a little sharpened. They'll be
able to have a vague sense of their Master whether they are well or in danger
and they would know if their Master were killed. In most cases the trauma of
their Master's death can adversely affect them. In some cases their lives are
lost as well if the connection is significant enough and the blood-bond has
developed to its full extent. From the tales Angelus told me that was very rare
as it requires many years for a bond to develop to that level and Vampires as a
species can be very fickle." Spike shrugs eloquently. "For the bond to form
fully and be sustained, the exchange of blood must be a regular occurrence, at
least twice a month. Once it forms fully only death will sunder it for both. It
is a covenant not to be entered lightly and a grave responsibility."
"How did you learn about the claim Drogyn? I've never met a modern
Vampire that's undergone the ritual and most of the Old Ones are dust and gone.
To most Vampires of this age the claim ritual is little more than folklore and
not very well known at all. Few remember a time when Humans and Vampires were
anything more than predator and prey and those that have learned of it don't
really believe it. If I hadn't learned the lesson at the point of Angelus'
fangs, I may not either." Spike leans back and tilts his head inquisitively to
the side.
"I stopped by the temple to see
"Did I answer your questions?" Spike asks with a smile. "Or is there
more that you want to know?"
"There is one more thing but it's something that I think I need to
experience for myself." Drogyn takes a deep breath and stands, his fingers going
to the laces of his shirt and starting to undo them. "I want you to claim me."
He states simply, no trace of fear or reservation in his eyes.
Spike raises his brow in silent surprise and crosses palms over his belt
buckle and runs his eyes over them both. "If we do this you have to understand
what is going to happen. The bond manifests itself a little differently for
each person and there's no way to predict how it will manifest in you once it's
complete. I'm already bound to you both in different ways so your reactions may
be extreme. My connection to
Spike leans forward and cups Drogyn's cheek tracing a path down over his
throat until his fingertips are tracing random patterns over his pulse lightly.
"Do you know that I can feel you?"
He whispers quietly, leaning forward until his forehead touches Drogyn's
lightly. "You're like the Symbiote, whispering to me constantly, relentlessly,
like a song that repeats over and over again in my mind. 'Drogyn near, Drogyn
well, Drogyn, Drogyn.... Over and over and over again, I hear your song
whispering to me since you brought me back. I used to be able to feel Drusilla,
every
"Then your Sire is what I'll be." Drogyn whispers back. "Tell me what to
do and claim me, I've already claimed you in my heart, now I want to wear you
on my skin."
Spike lifts his hands and cups their cheeks, smoothing along their
cheekbones gently, as his eyes bore into theirs. After a few minutes, whatever
he's seen in their eyes has set his mind at ease and he slowly nods after
several tense moments.
"To initiate the bonding you have to feed from me first to show that you
are willingly entering into a covenant with me. I can't help you in any way or
make any move to stop you once you begin to show that I am accepting the bond.
You have to use your teeth to open a wound and sink your teeth in as deeply as
possible. You can't use a knife or anything else to start the bloodletting.
Pick where you want the mark to be and bite down hard and keep your teeth in my flesh as you drink. Take as much as
you can before the wound heals, you'll feel it closing as you feed. When you
feel the pressure against your teeth remove them and lick the mark that will be
left behind, it will arrest any further healing and cause it to scar lightly."
Spike informs them as his hands falls away.
"Do you have a preference as to where the marks are placed?" Doyle asks,
quivering faintly but it's anything but fear that has his muscles twitching in
anticipation.
Drogyn lifts his hand and traces the scar at the junction of Spike's
neck and shoulder. "Whose is this, Drusilla or Angelus?"
Spike's muscles tense at the tender caress and he fights the instinctual
urge to jerk away from the trespassing touch. Maybe eight centuries isn't
enough to remove Angelus completely. "It's both. It's where Drusilla bit me in
the process of siring me. When Angelus decided she was too weak to raise a
'proper' Childe and took me from her, he placed his own claim there and overrode
hers as a sign of dominance and well just to prove that he could I suppose." Spike admits. "But it's different when Vampires
claim each other. Every Vampire bears the mark of the one that sired them but
most sires will also use the additional influence that claim provides to make
sure that their Childer's Demons remain subservient to their own. A second
claim once the first is fully established...." Spike's voice trails off.
"That's even rarer than a Vampire with a soul, that's a Vampire with a Mate."
"I've never heard of a Vampire taking a Mate!" Drogyn exclaims in
amazement. "Do they?"
"Angelus claimed to have met a mated pair once, two Old Ones but the
tales told say that both were brought down by the own Order. I have met
Vampires that are committed to other Demons and once I met one who had claimed
a Human but he was sired soon after. Taking a Mate is something beyond most
Vampires, a Demon doesn't yield itself to a weaker companion and it rails
against the yoke imposed by a dominant. The Master used to tell me the myths,
tales, stories, and secrets of our kind in the days before
"Vampires are by nature very possessive and controlling."
Spike has to chuckle. "Honestly Vampires understand most of that
intuitively and are guided by instinct more than knowledge. There are very few
books on Vampires that have reliable information. The Watchers foolishly think
that they're the experts but for all their so-called knowledge they can't even
tell a Master from a Minion. As the majority of their books are based only on
Minions, I doubt that they understand much about
"I have met several Watchers in my years. I have yet to meet one that I
like." Drogyn says dryly. He steps forward until his chest is pressing against
Spike's, his fingertips roving restlessly over the mark at his throat. He
slides his other hand up Spike's chest as the other slides down catching under
the lapels of the jacket. A pause to ask a silent permission and Spike nods his
consent.
He slides the jacket off slowly, hiding his amazement at feeling the
slight shifting of movement under his palms as the cells of the Symbiote react
to his touch. The reaction is mild, almost welcoming, as the Symbiote is very
familiar not only with his touch but of those of the others close to Spike as
well.
Drogyn scans the marble suede expanse of Spike's bared chest and his
fingertips find a faint raised scar over his heart. "What is this? Is this
"No." Spike shakes his head and drops his chin. "A mark yes, a badge of darker
times yes, a consensual claim mark. No. I was... wounded by the Slayer's beau du
jour,
Doyle steps up beside Drogyn and traces his hand over the scar,
jockeying with his lover's fingers as they both trace the marred tissue. "You
weren't wounded, you were staked. How
did you...?"
"He didn't use... it wasn't wood." Spike mumbles. He feels gentle fingers
curving under his chin and lifting his head to meet a pair of concerned faces.
"He just wanted to hurt me. The stake was plastic but the handle was wood. It
touched the wound when he stabbed me but didn't enter which I guess is why I'm
still here I suppose.
"It's an abomination!" Drogyn snarls heatedly. He's forward in a flash
of movement his teeth sinking into the scarred flesh and ripping into it
fiercely. His unspoken fear that he'd be disgusted by ingesting Spike's blood
flees swiftly as the strange sweetly spicy elixir pours over his tongue and he
draws on the wound avidly. He barely notices as they topple over to sprawl on
top of the table.
It's nothing like he expected it to be from the scattered experiences
he's had with his own blood. Sucking the blood from a wounded finger or the
subtle traces left after a passionately violent kiss didn't prepare him for
this experience. Spike's blood is a thickly rich concoction that tastes like
candied ginger with just a hint of the slightly metallic taste that he's more
familiar with.
Spike's groans and twitching muscles betray the painful aspect of the
process from his end but the body under his hungry mouth is arching toward him
wanting that pain. Writhing and gasping until his body is shaking with the
effort to remain passive Spike's groans soften to low whimpers. His muscles
shift restlessly beneath his amazing skin as the pain washes through him but
the hand cradling his head as its twin roams up and down his back are tender
and encouraging.
Drogyn moans, the sound muffled against Spike's chest as he slows his
feasting on the rich life-blood. He feels the flesh shifting and knitting
closed around his embedded teeth and slowly pulls back and licks at the wounds
as Spike told him to do. He ignores the greedy moans that explode out of him as
every lick yields less of the addictive fluid and keeps tending to the healing
wound.
He crawls along the table, sliding against Spike's body, grateful for
the hands lovingly pressed against his back and guiding him into place. He
moves back against
Lost in the sensations flooding through them as they convulse and
thrash, they don't notice
An unholy gleam enters his eyes and he crawls up onto the table and with
a wicked smile he arranges the two recovering men to his satisfaction. It takes
some effort but soon he's sitting cross-legged with Drogyn and Spike's heads
resting on his lap. The next few minutes are punctuated by his wicked chuckles
as he ruthlessly strokes the new marks being sported by the two most important
men in his life and enjoys the intimacy of the debauched horizontal dance being
played for his benefit.
His sexy power trip is brought to a gentle halt but a tender but
implacable hand closing around his wrist and he looks down into the fathomless
blue seas that are Spike's eyes. The censure he expected to see is absent and
only humour and the enigmatic shine of promised; and pleasurable; retribution
gleam in the cobalt orbs.
Spike rolls smoothly onto his side deflecting his body into a hip roll
that carries him off the table top, landing in an easy crouch. His back arches
in a deep boneless stretch and he rolls his back as he rises to stand but his
veneer of humanity is submersed beneath his Demon features. He grins
deliberately flashing his fangs and making a show of curling his tongue around
a still bloody fang and sucking it clean with a smirk. He rolls his shoulders
and flexes his muscles as a deep rumbling growl ripples up from deep in his
belly in a primal challenge Demon to Demon.
Drogyn chuckles and pushes at
He watches as they circle each other slowly, maintaining their distance
with Demons to the fore as Doyle's other half is called to come forward by
Spike's challenge. No one could have been more surprised to see Spike still and
slowly sink to his knees and tilt his head back and lying bare his throat.
Drogyn isn't sure what amazes him more, the sight of Spike surrendering
willingly in a display that any Demon would recognize as submissive or
No words pass between the pair as
It is a slow seduction as
As Spike falls backward, the second bloodletting so soon after the first
taxing his ability to heal and rendering him helpless. The expression on his
face never alters; the trust and affection unchanged as his confidence in
The feeding is leisurely once more and the pair slumps over clutching
each other tightly despite being barely conscious as the bond settles
soothingly on their aching bodies.
Drogyn climbs off the table and walks over to the pair and lowers
himself beside them and wraps his arms around them both. A smile curves his
lips upwards as he holds his world in his arms. He doesn't need to ask Spike if
it is done as he can feel that it is. The smile turns into a wicked grin as Drogyn
chuckles and strokes the marks adorning their throats and making them whimper
and writhe in bliss. He can see why
The 'tame kitten' proves himself still a dangerous Panther as his
caressing hand is caught up swiftly and held with careful but irresistible
force and pulls it away from the new mark.
"Not the time to be rousing the sleeping tigers Pet. We still have that
nit
"I just have one question."
Spike smirks and quirks his brow up and turns away without answering his
question and walks out of the room whistling jauntily.
Chapter Seven
Spike waves to the terminally bored looking security guard as stops at
the entrance to the underground parking lot. "I'm from Pini and Brothers
Specialty Foods. I've got a special delivery for a
The guard heaves a beleaguered sigh and checks the thick sheathe of
papers crowding his clipboard. "I haven't got anything here about a second
delivery." He says suspiciously.
"No skin off my nose Mate to turn this truck around and head back to the
store and punch my time card for the night. I'm sure
"Go, go, deliveries go to the second sub-level, take the second ramp on
the left, move it!" The guard barks and salutes and drives the truck inside
with easy skill.
"What was that about?"
"
"What does that mean?!"
"Like kids lop the heads off daisies." Spike replies flatly, guiding the
truck with easy skill down the ramp the guard directed him to take. "He's
running Hell Incorporated, I'm sure he'd have to make an example or dozen out
of the more reluctant employees if he's going to be respected by the others."
"Would
"Angelus would have." Spike's voice is unemotional. "He'd have chosen
blighters that deserved to be made examples of I'm sure and most likely Demons.
He always did have a blind spot when it comes to Humans, I'm not sure that he
could really kill one deliberately."
"Well he locked those lawyers...."
"He locked the door but he didn't do the deed." Spike points out. "It's
a case of degrees granted but that could be said about most things."
Spike pulls the truck into a spot adjacent to a low loading dock, choosing
the farthest slot and bordered on one side by the wall. "Doyle get out on my
side, it should shield you from any cameras they have down here." He advises as
he turns off the engine and pushes open his door and hops down lightly and
walks to the back of the truck.
An easy leap carries him to the top of the loading dock and he has the
truck doors open just in time for
"Are we clear Spike?" Drogyn asks walking to
"We're clear for now. I can't hear anyone nearby and the scents are
faint; no one has been through here for at least two hours. It's probably a
safe bet that they're not expecting any late deliveries or they'd have someone
down here." Spike confirms after a few moments.
"Dyani, Yonah, are you both ready?" Drogyn asks with a smile for the
young warriors.
The siblings share a laughing glance as they strip their jackets off in
unison to reveal the reason why their beds are seldom empty of congenial
company. "Yes." They say in unison as their heads lift and their shoulders
square proudly and they toss their jackets to a grinning Spike, who catches
them with a chuckle.
He folds the jackets over his arm and waves them to go with his free arm
while Drogyn and
"Those kids have been spending entirely too much time with you!" The
genuine smile on his face steals the heat from Drogyn's word and the trio
chuckles.
"I'm sure all the years they've had you as an example to model
themselves after will offset any influence that I may have." Spike says
sincerely, not quite able to completely conceal his nervous unease at being so
close to the seat of Angel's not inconsiderable seat of power.
"Are you going to be alright here Spike?" Drogyn asks and then notices
((Start track 9 at this time. If you have headphones with bass boost
it'd be a good time to use it!))
A primal beat throbbing out of the radio provides him the impetus but
it's Spike that will provide the means better than anything he could come up
with. "Dance for us
Spike doesn't answer or hesitate, just starts moving his feet, the
rhythm travelling up his legs until it reaches his hips and they shimmy in
sinuously continuous motion. Much like the world at large, the trailer of the
truck soon becomes too small to contain the sheer awesome presence that is
Spike and he slinks and slithers his way out onto the loading dock.
His movements are slow but violently punctuated with sharp pauses on the
beat of the music only to surge back into sinuosity as the music glides on in
the hypnotically pulsing rhythm. He hip turns into a slow stationary spin made
all the more astonishing as faint blue highlights chase the silver ones from
his hair betraying that
"How safe is that exactly?" Doyle asks nervously, never letting his eyes
stray from the dancing Vampire, though his reasons for that have nothing to do
with the visible proof that
"I think that it's the fact that we're here for
"Why would Spike allow that?"
"I think that Spike told us why himself earlier." Drogyn states
perceptively. "Knox is Illyria's Qwa'ha Xahn, High Priest, and it was his
self-appointed task to carry out the plan set in motion so long ago. It was
"So it wants revenge on
"Spike may be written into history as a warrior but he's also much
smarter than he's been credited with I think.
"What's going on Spike?"
"Not all of the guards are as lax as the one at the gate. They're close
but far enough away that I don't think they'll bother to check us out. We have
to be quiet and we need to be quick before they get suspicious or we'll have to
fight our way out." Spike's whisper is little more than a rumbling purr.
"We start a fight and
Spike looks back through the open doors, his head tilting inquisitively.
"I'm not sure about his friends but
"How can you tell?" Drogyn whispers curiously.
"Angelus is like a river, you may not see the current but you can always
feel it when you're standing in the middle of the water. The claiming is new
and still settling but you should try and concentrate on me." Spike advises
them quietly. "Feel me and then reach through
me. Pretend that I'm blocking something on the wall that you want to see, try
and see through me." He instructs them as he silently stalks closer to crouch
nearby.
He's ready as he feels the shift
in perception and darts forward at the matched set of gasps and sweeps them
against him as they reel off-balance. "Back it down, pull back! Try to
concentrate on just one sense and ignore the others." He comforts them in their
distress remembering very well his confusion and fear when he experienced the
enhanced senses that accompanied his transformation into a Vampire for the
first time.
He recalls the cruelty of Angelus' amusement at watching his bumbling
attempts at dealing with his new state of being but what he recalls the most
clearly is the surprising source of comfort he found in those earliest days.
"Imagine that you're looking at a tapestry hanging on a wall. Pick a
colour and associate it with one of your senses, reach out and sink your hands
into one of the colours and ignore the rest, they don't matter, push them
aside, see them but don't concentrate on them." Spike instructs them in a quiet
and patient tone, deliberately adopting a calming rhythm as he talks constantly
to keep their attention centered. He smiles as he feels them relax in his hold
and he knows that they're adjusting. He slowly releases them and steps away,
his smiling turning into a grin as they instinctively reach out to one another
and cling together. If you ever want to know where a person's heart lies than
watch who they reach out to when they're in trouble or distressed and you'd
have a pretty big clue.
"What is that noise?!"
Spike chuckles. "That would be you."
He turns his attention to Drogyn who is pressing his nose to his forearm and
breathing deeply and snuffling against the skin. "Drogyn, are you alright?"
Drogyn doesn't answer as he throws himself into Doyle's arms and buries
his face against his neck, sniffing frantically and moaning ecstatically. "How
can you tell so much about people just by how they smell? It's so amazing, it's
all here!" His voice is muffled against
"Back away from the tapestry now, look at something else, concentrate on
seeing all the little details." He feels them relaxing against him and once
he's sure that they've got their legs under them he steps away. "You did very
well for your first time."
"Is it always like that for you? I could hear the guards patrolling on
the level above us!"
"My senses have always been unusually sharp, I'm not sure why." Spike
replies with an unconcerned shrug. "I've always been a better tracker than
anyone else in my bloodline.
"Gifts, what gifts?"
"Every Vampire can trace it's lineage to a particular Order, bloodline
within it, and a Sire. I am... well I guess since my rebirth I should say was, Drusilla's Childe. That makes...
made... her my Sire, Angelus my Grandsire, and so forth down the bloodline. The
Master sired
"Every Order has certain traits common to the Vampires that belong to
it, skills or abilities for which they are known. The
"I was the greatest deception in the history of any Order, Angelus' last great practical joke on the Grandsire he
hated." Spike's voice is calm but his eyes blaze with barely leashed emotion.
"I'm no more typical of Aurelius than Dru is but Angelus would not be denied
again. Only a fighter would save face, redeem his bloodline in the eyes of the
Order and pander to that gigantic ego, so a fighter he made me."
"Your gift isn't fighting?" Drogyn's voice carries all his amazement
tinged with disbelief. "History and what I've seen for myself would seem to say
differently." He points out.
"I am a fighter and modesty
aside, I'm a very good one, I know that. However I
don't have the
"What sort of gifts do you have?"
"Well you already know about the fighting bit. When someone talks to me,
I can tell if they're lying to me but more importantly I can tell when they're
lying to themselves too. My senses and ability to track are very unusual. If I
concentrate I can affect the emotional states of someone around me or several
people to a more limited degree. I'm very aware of the emotional states of
people around me, the more I care about them and the easier it is for me to
lose myself in their emotions and needs. I get a... feel... for situations; I can tell when bad trouble is coming. I
can't see the future or see visions like Dru but I can feel things... sometimes...
usually right before the world burns to ash and back and does its best to take
me with it." Spike turns to face the open the doors and braces his hands on his
hips. "
"There isn't an Order now but
once there was; the Fallen." Drogyn imparts with quiet solemnity.
"Yes, once there was." Spike replies softly without turning around.
"Well that's all enigmatic and what. What's the Fallen?"
"There was once only one Order of Vampires; all of them were the same,
equal under that banner. If History once knew its name it is lost to its
annals. It is the Fallen Order, the original Clan from which all others would
come to be. Vampires are a covetous species by nature and eventually the
younger and more aggressive Masters rebelled against their Elders in a bid to
seize power for themselves. For nearly a millennia the Vampire Wars raged,
entire bloodlines were eradicated and still no one won. The Elders that
remained sought the safety of the dark places where they could remain hidden
from their more aggressive progeny. They probably intended to sleep for a time
then emerge to wage the war once more but nothing more was ever heard of them.
The Fallen are little more than myth to most of the Vampires in existence now
and very few who remember that it existed or that Vampires were once united."
Drogyn provides. "Because of that its possible that
the traits once known to them have been carried down through the eons to
manifest in later generations. In my time as a Squire I served a very learned
Knight of the realm. When he grew aged, he retired to a monastery and I would
often visit my old Master there. I spent endless hours in quiet study during
those visits and I read histories that haven't been seen in centuries untold.
The Brothers of
"I can say." Spike's voice echoes eerily as he slowly turns to look over
his shoulder, the arctic ice blue of his eyes glinting dangerously in the low
light. "The Progenitor of the Vampires was an Ancient and stood with my kind in
our time.
"
"Hold on now, that's not the
"I do not know of this 'Bible' that you speak of Half-breed but from
what I glean from the White-haired one it is a book, words upon a page. How
could it contain all that is
"Silence your insults
"Do not presume to address me in such a tone Jailer, the Half-breed has
forced these limitation upon my magnificence and I can but accept it. That
courtesy does not extend to you." There is a visible shudder and a low growling
sound can be heard radiating from Spike and a noticeable change in posture and
then a hastily muttered. "I apologize."
Drogyn hides his amusement behind a courtly bow of acknowledgement.
"The
They emerge from the truck in time to watch the siblings exit the
building and emerging onto the loading dock with a struggling
"I take it there was a problem?" Drogyn asks dryly.
"He tried to call someone when we told him who we were and that we had
his delivery." Dyani replies with disgust. "We couldn't chance it so we just
grabbed him and dragged him down here. On the way down we noticed this." She rips
"It is the sacraments that mark the
A booted foot shatters the wooden box as
"I... you're Illyria?! Oh this is
so wrong, not what I intended at all, I had the perfect host for you...."
"A human girl is perfect to host your GOD?" Spike spins on his heel and his fist flies out and
"We go together or we stay together! Dyani help him, and Yonah; help me
with this idiot!" Drogyn orders, grabbing one of
Dyani reaches Spike's side in a few graceful all too inhuman leaps,
throwing herself into the fight alongside the ageless warrior. Their familiarity
and close relationship is obvious as they work together seamlessly; Spike
fighting high with devastating punches and raking strikes with his talon-like
nails as Dyani strikes lower using her powerful lower body in a series of
sweeping kicks and heel strikes.
The four security guards don't last long under their combined assault
but the sound of screeching wheels and the acrid scent of burnt rubber and
approaching shouts doesn't bode well for a clean escape and Spike snarls and
wraps his hand around Dyani's shoulder. "Get to the truck, hurry!" A gentle
shove gets her moving in the right direction as Spike pivots and jumps the
fourteen feet to the loading dock doors with ridiculous ease. He presses his
back to the wall and grins as he hears the truck start up but predictably they
don't leave, waiting for him.
As the first of the security guards bursts through the door he grabs
them one by one using his strength to toss them over by their fallen comrades
as several small golf carts screech to a stop and disgorge still more guards
ahead of them. As the last guard is lofted over his shoulder he pivots and runs
for the edge of the loading docks and dives over the edge. Tucking into a ball
he rolls several feet before twisting his body and planting his palms and
twisting his body up and outward. His aim is true and the balls of his feet
catch one of the guards running towards him. The impact sends the hapless man
rocketing backwards like a projectile and mows over the other guards running
behind and topples them like dominoes.
"Go now! Go!" Spike yells, waving at
He turns to look over his shoulder at the sound of the truck's engine
revving up and screaming towards him, swerving to pass within mere inches as it
reaches him. He sags gratefully at the feel of strong arms reaching down and
snatching him off the hard asphalt and concrete floor and pulling him into the
trailer of the truck. The landing is a soft one as Drogyn and Yonah wraps themselves around him and cushion the hard landing on the
floor of the truck but he's too weak to do more than smile his thanks before he
passes.
Drogyn gingerly slides out from under Spike's dead weight; lifting him
after arranging him tenderly against his chest and makes his way to the back of
the truck. He's grateful for Yonah's steadying hand keeping him upright in the
slightly swaying trailer as
"What's wrong with him
"And how did he do whatever that was he did in the parking garage?"
Dyani asks, rising from where she's used several packing straps to hogtie, gag,
and tie
"That was a time compression wave, one of
Dyani moves past them and quickly arranges a pile of packing blankets
into a comfortable pallet and helps steady Drogyn as he kneels and sets Spike
down. She kneels beside Drogyn and holds Spike in a sitting position as the
only Father she's ever known gets comfortable on the pallet. She helps him to
drape Spike over his lap so that his head can rest against his thighs as he
sits stroking the pale hair spilling all around them soothingly.
She catches sight of the dark look on her Brother's face as she stands
and she catches his arm, gently but insistently guiding him away from Drogyn
and Spike. They pass
"He's not for you Yonah and as much as you want him to see you as a
lover, he sees you as a friend. If you keep pushing him you're going to end up
losing him as a friend too. Is that what you want?"
"I want him." Yonah mutters stubbornly, crossing his arms and releasing
a long sigh of exasperation. "Ajani has Doyle, they don't need Spike too." He
mumbles petulantly.
Dyani resists the urge to cuff her Brother on the head and swallows the
growl of annoyance at his antics. Yonah has had all of the advantages of
striking looks and notoriety as the adopted son of the Guardian himself and it
seems that it hasn't done much to foster his modesty. Spike may well be the
first person Yonah's wanted that hasn't fallen into his arms.
"You have to accept that he's bound to them in a way that he'll never
really share with anyone else, except maybe
"You've seen it, haven't you? You know what's going to happen, who he's
going to choose!" Yonah accuses with a hurt expression.
"You know that it doesn't work like that." Dyani denies in a hurt tone.
"I see possibilities not probabilities, because I've seen it doesn't mean it
will happen, only that it's one outcome that could happen. Fate isn't as rigid
as most believe it to be and choices exist even when you think that there are
none to make. I've seen what could happen if Spike choices lead him down that
path."
"It wasn't me that he was walking that path with was it?" Yonah asks the
question but his expression betrays that he knows the answer already.
"No, it wasn't Yonah. It was one of the clearest dreams I've ever
experienced so I think that the odds are very high that is likely to happen but
in the end only Spike can make the choices that will decide it for sure." Dyani
slips her arm around Yonah's shoulder and hugs him comfortingly.
"Who was it that you saw? Was it Drogyn and
"You know I won't answer that. Whatever happens will happen because
Spike made the choices that lead to it. I won't influence him; what happens,
happens." Dyani chides him gently. After a moment she leans over until her
temple rests against her Brother's and sings softly, remembering a song she's
heard
((Start track 7 now))
One by one everyone relaxes, even
Chapter Eight
Gunn winces as an explosion of angry voices precedes
"Do you mean to tell me that two
people managed to overcome fifteen guards and you don't even have a license
plate for us to track?"
He notices that Harmony is standing beside the desk and promptly hands
"Do we even know who they took with them yet?"
"
"You're right it didn't." Gunn walks in leading a clearly upset
Fred fidgets anxiously, wringing her hands. "I've gone over everything
that
"Could it be a personally motivated? Maybe he's crossed the wrong
person?"
"Give me an hour and I'll have something." She jumps up and hurries out
the door and to her office.
"Gunn, I want you to find out who was working security for the parking
garage when these people got in. When you find them, FIRE them, no references. This is unacceptable."
He turns his attention to
"Whoever these people are, they walked into one of the most fortified
buildings in the city if not the country, took
"Hiding from the combined forces we've brought to bear would suggest
that they have major assistance from
some extremely powerful people. It would require the assistance of a Witch or
Wizard of uncommon strength and there aren't many of those, we may be able to
use that." Wes replies, crossing his arms over his chest.
"How 'uncommon' are we talking here,
"It depends on the exact mechanics. An entire coven cooperating can
raise tremendous power but it's also harder to hide so many magical
'signatures' so that makes that option unlikely. A single Witch or Wizard
capable of casting such a spell on their own... I'd say no more than two or three
at the most."
Angel sets his mug down with a controlled slam and sits forward in his
chair, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Do you think Giles and the Council could
have something to do with this?" He demands.
"It seems unlikely
"
He silently heads for his office when
It doesn't take him very long to find the information and compile the
reports. He's back in
"This isn't the best recording; the cameras down there are really
inadequate for the area they cover." Fred says conversationally, preferring to
obsess over the technical aspects than overload with worry for
They all watch, leaning forward in their chairs with identical
expressions on their face and
"Is that some sort of funky ritual or what?" Gunn asks after he snaps
his gaping mouth shut.
"No, not that I've ever seen at least; I think its just... dancing."
Events progress quickly from that point and
She uses her laser pointer to
track the leaping figure. "By my measurements and factoring in time and
momentum, I estimate that was a standing long jump exceeding fourteen feet,
with no running start." She returns to normal speed as the second figure,
clearly female leaps into frame. "That jumping leap was only slightly shorter."
She supplies. "From my analysis, I don't see how humans would be capable of
physical feats like this."
They all watch silently until every one of them aside from
"I thought you said that the Mages reported no magic was used?!"
"I don't know what that is but it's not magic. Anything strong enough to
compress time like that would have set off ever magical ward in the building
and then some. I've never seen anything like that before and I haven't read of
any species that could produce it."
Lorne shakes his head. "I've heard that there are some species with a
similar ability but trust me none of them are going to pass for anyone even
remotely human-looking. He's something new." Lorne reaches over and takes the
remote from
"Is this the best you can do with the image
"I'm sorry
"It looks like whatever that light show was it takes its toll. He looked
like he was barely conscious."
"I counted two men and one woman on the loading dock and I'm pretty sure
that I saw a second man lean out to help the white haired one. So that would
make the woman and three men in the back of the truck with
"We know that they took
"That's an excellent point Fred."
"They aren't agents of the Senior Partners." All eyes turn to Gunn with
that bombshell. "I went and asked the Conduit before I took care of firing that
Brother who was asleep on the job. I know we have to take everything they say
with a grain of slat but I get the impression that not only don't they know who
these people are but that they're actually worried."
"So that means they probably weren't evil then, right?"
"There's another group we should be considering."
"You think that girl was a Slayer." Angel says flatly, ignoring the
concerned looks being aimed his way.
"I... I think it's a distinct possibility yes."
"That you know of." Gunn feels forced to add. "I mean we know that
"That Giles guy stonewalled us when we called for help with that
Necromancer remember? If
"Yes, I think we can all agree that
"After giving us such lame excuses when we asked for their help?"
"If they wanted the best that we've got they would have taken
"And we'd have torn the world, and them, apart to get her back."
"Or they thought we wouldn't care if he did disappear." Gunn says dryly.
Wes, Angel, and Lorne hide their smirks because they're not really sure
that they do care but they hide their
reaction from the tender-hearted
"So if the girl on the tape is a Slayer; what about the men with her?"
Gunn asks.
"Maybe Watchers, like
"No offence to Watchers, Wes-man but that white-haired guy fought like
no Watcher I've ever seen fight. He fought more like
"It's true that to my knowledge Demons haven't been employed by the Council...."
"That's not true."
"That doesn't explain why they took
"Maybe we do and we don't know it?" Lorne suggests. "What does
"Knox is qualified and/or has master degrees or doctorates in several
fields but he seems to be particularly talented when it comes to genetics,
genetic virology in particular. He helped me to crack that case where that mob
guy put that viral bomb in his son remember?"
They all nod, remembering that case well and none of them wept when a
fellow underworld boss arranged for him to disappear.
"So what could the Council want with a geneticist; especially one that
works for Wolfram & Hart..." Gunn asks and grimaces. "...I mean no offence
Angel leans over and takes the remote and rewinds the image and pauses
it, catching the white-haired warrior in mid-sidekick. "I want to know who he
is, what they want Knox for, where they went when they left, how they got in so
easily, and why they felt it was worth crossing us and I wanted to know it yesterday."
Chapter Nine
Angel watches as Wesley lead Fred, Lorne, and Gunn from his office, a
hooded expression on his face. He watches silently until they step up to the
elevator and push the call button. Harmony stands up from her desk and sends a
questioning look his way. A nod from him and she quickly gathers her things and
joins them as they walk onto the elevator. He sits and watches them as the
doors close taking them from his sight. He looks around the now deserted
office, the reception area beyond the glass is utterly still and quiet and no
sounds reach his sensitive ears.
He often sits here late at night when the building is quiet and his
friends long fled for their homes and whatever lives they've carved out for
themselves away from this place. He stands and makes his way to the large
expanse of windows that overlook the ocean of glowing lights, steel, glass,
asphalt, and humanity that is his city. To anyone else the view would be
breathtaking, worthy of a postcard and a 'wish you were here' salutation but to
him it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen.
For every twinkling light, every heartbeat, and every mile of road there
is a regret that burdens his dead heart. He has to smile at the irony of it
all. The son of a well-to-do Landowner Father and a religiously pious Mother,
there were few 'perversions' of his time that he failed to indulge. His taste
for spirits, women, gambling, and flouting convention were infamous and only
increased in his willing surrender to the darkness in the arms of
He gave up his soul willingly then and he's done it again now despite
still having it, he knows that he's sold it to make this Devil's bargain. It
wasn't worth it.
He turns away from the glittering lights of the city and his reflection
to walk slowly to his private elevator and waits for the brief few seconds it
takes for the sensors to identify him and open the doors. He steps inside and
takes that short ride directly up to his penthouse apartment. He walks out of
the elevator in the private foyer, shedding his clothes as he moves through the
stylishly sterile perfection of the professionally decorated cage. He makes no
attempt to pick up his clothes but he knows that when he again travels this
path, there will be no sign of them ever having lain where they fell. He never
sees the helpful hands that keep his apartment tidy; his clothes freshly dry
cleaned, his bed made, and his larders provisioned but they are nothing if not
efficient.
The walk to his bedroom takes him only moments with his long strides and
in less than five minutes he's dressed in a soft charcoal grey robe and black
silk sleep pants. It takes him only a few minutes more to find the pitcher of
Harmony's special blend in the refrigerator and sets a mug to warm in the
microwave. He takes the mug to the living room and picks up the remote for the
stereo system and pushes a few buttons until he finds some music that suits his
mood.
((Start track 12 now))
The driving beat of the music is modern and closer to techno than
classical and he wonders how many people would be surprised that he secretly
likes the gritty reality of it. He learned to have a certain appreciation for
the eclectic mix of music that Spike probably thought he was torturing him with
during their short but violent Sunnydale attempt at living together. As he was
himself, Spike's musical preferences were often contradictory, with beautiful
ballads followed by angry protests against anything and everything there was to
rebel against but if you actually listened to them they revealed a lot. He
could tell Spike's mood just by what music he was listening to.
He stands and walks to a large bookcase and his hand skims the rich
leather spines until the brush of a familiar and worn book and pulls it back towards
him. A nearly silent click sounds as a portion of the bookcase slides inward
and slides up to reveal a hidden safe. He presses his palm to the smooth dark
glass panel and waits. A brief wave of
light and a small CD sized section pops out with a strange depression in the
center. He presses the pad of his thumb into the depression, not flinching in
the least as his finger is swiftly punctured and his blood drawn. He pulls back
as the tray retracts, sucking the traces of blood off his healed thumb as the
safe opens silently. He removes a small velvet bag and closes the safe. He'll
have to remember to thank
He carefully works the ties on the bag open and gently tips the single item
it contains into his palm. The silver ring is topped by a small skull with
inset ruby eyes. The band is actually fashioned to resemble arm bones and the
bottom is cleverly fashioned to look like clasped hands. The weight of it is
much more than its size might otherwise indicate and betrays that it is a very
old ring. In fact it would have been worth a sizeable sum of money a century
ago. He tosses the velvet bag towards the coffee table unconcerned with whether
or not it lands there or on the floor. He balances the ring between the
fingertips of both hands and twists and pulls in just the right way. He smiles
as the ring comes apart to reveal that it's actually two rings in one joined to
a slender central section topped by a single brilliantly cut red stone. With
the ring closed the secret it holds is concealed from the eyes of the unaware
and the trick to opening it, well that is a secret shared by only two.
He couldn't believe it when he saw the ring hanging on a chain around
Buffy's neck and angry beyond words when she told him her 'amusing' story about
how she came to have it. It was a miracle of self control that he didn't
immediately hunt Willow down and rip her tongue out for casting that 'my will
be done' spell that began the spiral of events that lead to losing the last of
his family.
They were so obscenely jovial in the face of their victory over the
armies of the First and the sealing of the Hellmouth. Only
He barely managed to let them leave LA alive but that may have had more
to do with
His fingertip lightly touches the brilliantly facetted 'gemstone'
pulling it back quickly and watching as the slightly deformed stone shimmers
and reshapes itself back into crystalline perfection once more. He turns his
hand over to look at his fingertips. The pad of his index finger is dotted with
a single spot of red liquid. He slowly transfers the drop to his tongue and his
eyes slip closed as his head tips back at the taste of the blood, Spike's mixed
with his own, on his tongue. "Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told
can be; for the gentle wind does move silently, invisibly." He quotes quietly
from memory. "Our secret is safe my Childe, our covenant unbroken, and your
Sire is proud of you."
The sound of his cell phone ringing startles him and he hurriedly closes
the ring and slips it on his pinkie finger before running to pick up his phone.
"
"What the hell is he doing at a dance club?"
"Dancing I presume." Wes says dryly. "A club in West Hollywood by the
name of Gabah. Gunn and I are on our way but you're closer and can get their
before us."
"I'll meet you there!" He hangs up without saying goodbye and runs to
get dressed and is out of the penthouse within five minutes, his leather coat
billowing out behind him.
Chapter Ten
It doesn't take him very long to reach the club and he manages to
intimidate his way through the throngs of people waiting for their chance to
get inside. He's nearing the door at last as first Gunn and then
"Damn man this hood is a step down from a demilitarized zone, our cars
are gonna get jacked for sure." Gunn mutters his complaint as they cross the
street.
They hurry to join
"We should split up, we can cover more ground." Gunn says loudly, having
to almost shout to be heard over the driving music.
"No, we stay together. Whoever that guy is, he took half a security
shift and the others may be here too. We stand a better chance if we stay together."
Angel orders, looking around. He spots a staircase leading up to a balcony
sitting area and motions them to follow him as he ploughs through the crowd.
They can use the benefit of the high ground to see more of the lower level
without being seen themselves and if by some chance their foes are up there,
they'll be contained.
((Start Track 11 now))
They push through some people loitering on the stairs and fan out to
make their way over to the railing to survey the club below.
"Hey guys, guys, over here!" A chipper voice cries happily and they look
around and spot a gaily dressed Lorne sitting at a corner table with a shyly
smiling
"Damn it this was a set up! Find them!" Angel snarls, giving Gunn and
"What's going on
"One of Gunn's informants thinks that they spotted one of our visitors
from earlier here. We thought they were just stupid or worse taunting us to
find them by being here but I don't think that it's a coincidence that you're
both here. They may be after you as well as
"There, there he is!" Wes says excitedly, leaning over the railing so
far he's almost falling over it and Gunn has to grab him by the belt to keep
him from going head over heels. "That's him?!"
Angel spares a glance for Lorne and Fred, making sure that they're on
their way, before he hurries over to the railing and freezes. It's hard to miss
the hypnotic swaying of that long mane of moonlight pale hair above the truly
awe-inspiring view of a denim-painted lower body that is all too clearly male.
A cropped blue denim top stops several inches above his waistband and gives
them tantalizing glimpses of honey-tanned flesh as it peeks from behind the
swishing ponytail.
He leans over to get a better look and Gunn curses grabbing him by the
belt too and muttering about stupid 'white boys with more balls than brains'.
He ignores Gunn's ill-tempered antics and stares raptly. He just can't shake
this sense of something familiar about that pert rear, and swaying hips but
whatever is nibbling at his consciousness isn't readily apparent and he curses
as it eludes him.
The sight of a masculine hand slipping around to curve over the
denim-painted rear brings a growl to his throat and his eyes flash amber as
they narrow dangerously. It's only then that he notices that the man is dancing
between two men, his palms outstretched and braced on their chests as he rocks
to the beat between them.
The DJ lowers the music to make an announcement. "I've got a special
request along with a rather...." The DJ snickers in amusement. "...Unique dedication
for all you 'heroes' out there who and I quote, 'Thou who abruptly as knife did
come to my heart.' and it's signed 'Catch me if you can' and here we go!"
((Start Track 10))
"That was a quote from
"Yes, it is." He growls. "It's a challenge." He spins on his heel and
lopes for the staircase.
"Apparently it worked." Gunn notes dryly as
Angel is thankful that his height gives him some advantage as he spots a
swiftly retreating flash of white hair and denim and snarls with the heat of
the hunt as he shoves his way through the crowd and out the back door following
the white beacon of that unusual hair out into the night.
Spotting
In the parking lot Lorne is muttering darkly as his car takes this night
of all nights to want to not start. He knows that
"I want you to get in the back seat kitten and stay down. I'm going to
cover you with a blanket a I want you to stay as quiet
as a mouse. I'll set the alarm and then go back in and see if I can find
He jogs back inside and tries to find
Lorne turns around and his eyes widen comically as he instinctively
throws his hand up to ward him off.
"My name is
"I don't get paid enough for this. I just have one question about all
this." Lorne says rubbing his throbbing temples and nodding his thanks as
"Sure, ask away. I may not be able to answer but if I can, I will."
"Are his eyes REALLY that
blue?" Lorne asks dreamily.
"So you're
"Spike is probably having a ball getting
"I'm sorry but the less people that can connect you to us, the better.
To answer your question, I'm not so much
"I know that you are who you say, the Powers showed me that much. I know
you can be trusted to that degree but there are things that I don't
understand." Lorne replies honestly, tossing his drink back and giving away how
nervous he is.
Lorne nods in relief and takes the card. "Thank you." He stands and
makes his way out of the club in a hurry. He spots a dark silhouette of someone
standing in the alley near his car and he assumes that it is the one
He turns off the alarm and unlocks the door and slips in before
relocking the door. "Don't worry kitten, it's just your favourite key lime
pie." He slips the car key into the ignition and takes a deep breath that he
lets out slowly as the car turns over smoothly to the soundtrack of
"You got the car to start, that's great."
Lorne brings them to a smooth stop at a stop sign and reaches out to stroke
some stray curls back off her cheek. "I think things are going to work out
Kitten." He drops his hand and turns his attention back to the road. "I really
do." He starts the car moving again and finds himself smiling for the first
time in what seems like months. Maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay
thanks to
Yonah watches as the strange looking Demon's car finally fades from
sight and he shrugs. He's never met a Pylean before but they seem like a nice
people. He looks over his shoulder at the sound of soft footsteps and his eyes
widen and he laughs. Drogyn strides out of the shadows with a sheepish look on
his face and an unconscious ex-Watcher hanging over his shoulder. "How did that
happen?"
"He was following
Yonah smiles and shakes his head in fond disbelief. "What do we do with
him now?"
"I put the note in his jacket pocket and he'll probably find it later. I
don't think we should sneak him back inside while he's helpless like this."
Drogyn sighs and shrugs.
"Well we can't lock him in his car since he didn't come in one." Yonah
says exasperated.
"I'll put him back in the alley and make it look like an accident. Find
Dyani and both of you arrange for his friend to find him." Drogyn decides
grimacing as he sees
Yonah chuckles and closes his eyes and extends his senses and heads off
at a jog in the direction he can feel his Sister the strongest.
"I SAID DON'T ASK!" He hears
Drogyn yell from the alley as he heads after Dyani and he finally laughs.
Epilogue
Even if he hadn't known that the white-haired man wasn't human when he
set out after him, he'd have realized he wasn't by now for sure. He's being led
a merry chase and it's obvious that the strength and stamina of this man is
beyond any human's in his experience. They've been through dozens of streets,
up fire escapes, down drain pipes, and in one notable case through a
dilapidated neighbourhood dry cleaner to the stunned shock of the sweating
employees.
His chest is heaving and there's a scowl on his face from his
displeasure with this state of affairs. He's a brawler not a sprinter and he's
forced to admit that he may not be able to catch his lightning fast opponent.
As the thought is going through his mind, it's crowded out by the feel of a
steel-corded muscled arm sliding around his neck as a weight hits his back
swiftly, carrying him down to the cracked concrete with a bone jarring thump.
He starts to tense his muscles and gathers his legs under him intending
to throw the man over his shoulder but the deep warning growl and the feel of
sharp nails drawing lightly over his jugular convince him it might be a good
idea to relax. The gentle scrape of ivory fangs against his nape only reinforce
that impression as he quakes with faint shivers that have nothing to do with
pain or fear.
((Start track 10 again))
"A wise move Master of Aurelius. Stand, slowly." A sibilant whisper
advises him.
He takes a deep breath and demands. "You have
"Is that all that you want
"Who the hell are you?" Angel
snarls, struck by the feeling of familiarity again. His Demon recognizes
another of his species, so he knows it's a Vampire and the scent is both
foreign and yet sparks some faint recognition all at the same time. But this
Vampire feels old, very, very old.
"This is my game and my questions Angelus." The whisperer warns,
punctuating the point with another light scraping of the fangs hovering over
his nape.
He damns the quiet tone as it's too soft for him to hear clearly even
with his enhanced hearing. He thinks that he can hear the faint hint of an
accent but the whisper is so soft and quiet that he can't be sure and he curses
silently.
"You're a fool, one with his heart in the right place, but a fool all
the same. You can't change evil from the inside, it's swallowed you and you're
going to end up a bowel movement at this rate. Cut your losses and get out
while you can, while your friends can
or it's all going to be for nothing." The whisperer warns.
"You don't know what you're talking about! We're doing a good job
turning Wolfram & Hart around."
"You're so busy turning it around that you aren't seeing that you're
being manipulated into doing what they wanted you to from the beginning. Fries,
Hainsley, Royce, Pavayne, they were all expendable, each one leading you just
that much farther down the path they want you to walk. You were the definition
of evil for an entire species and you got your name how?"
"The Devil with an
"And not every evil that be committed looks evil in the moment. People commit acts of wilful evil almost
every day and like you, they do it with the best of intentions. A small lie to
spare a friend's feelings, that stapler or paper clips that find their way home
from work, or tearing those annoying little tags off the mattress, or looking
in a friend's medicine cabinet when they invite us over. A life full of tiny
little steps down a dark road and yes intentions really do count for a lot but you're not seeing the Vampire for the
fangs."
"You... removed... one of their commandos. He was becoming dangerous for the
Senior Partners to have around. He knew too much and in time you could have won
his loyalty. Then you could have
known what he knew and that would have made you a real threat. Hainsley refused
to bow to the Senior Partners so they arranged for him to run afoul of you.
Fries' insane plans threatened everyone in the city, including those the Senior
Partners wanted protected so you stepped in. Not only did you go against your
conscience to save him, your boy Gunn willingly gives up his brain to be
stuffed full of whatever those bastards wanted to put in there. Pavayne was
becoming too powerful, his influence with some growing too strong and he became
a threat but again there you were to handle it for them."
Judging by the laughter and the graceful rolling somersault; that the
man uses to regain his feet; it was nothing less than expected. He doesn't stop
his momentum, twisting his body in a lithe sideways leap and into rapid back
handsprings that carry him out of the moonlight and into the shadows.
"That took you longer than I expected. Losing your edge flying that desk
Angelus?" The voice whispers from the darkness in front of him.
"Enough of these bloody games and stupidity; face me you bastard!"
"Sorry but I'm sure you're thinking of someone else. He may have died
before I was born but my parents were definitely married." An amused voice
hisses from another area of shadowed darkness and
The twenty feet up to the second fire escape may as well have been two
feet for the ease with which it was accomplished for the enigmatic Vampire.
"Speaking of parents and children... was it worth it?" The whisper voice
floats down, barely audible to his keen ears.
"Was what 'worth it'? What are you rambling about now?"
"Connor, was it worth it?"
"Strange since you sold yourself and your friends to Wolfram & Hart to
give him another chance at living a normal life. It was a high price to pay for
a boy that was never supposed to exist." The voice whispers conspiratorially.
"Then again maybe you believed the pretty little lies in that bogus 'prophecy'
of theirs. I'm always amazed that people will accept the most outlandish things
just because it's published in a book." An amused chuckle floats down. "Of
course no one believes that a book can lie do they?"
"ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES; WHO THE
HELL ARE YOU; WHAT DO YOU WANT
"Answer me this Hero, who would you choose? Knox or your sweet girl
Fred, who would you sacrifice to save the other, to save thousands if not
millions?"
"I wouldn't sacrifice
"We chose her as well. Knox planned to give her to a tragic fate, a
living incubator for the Ancient he served, the means for an Old One to
re-enter our world. That can't be allowed to happen and
The soft almost silent rattle of metal against metal tells
"You haven't told me who you are. Why should I trust you?" Angel calls
up, suddenly reluctant to let him leave for some reason. "What Order do you
belong to?"
"Trust is a delicate thing; so much time spent wondering and suspecting
if your faith is misplaced or spent on worthless dross instead of gold. I'm not
going to tell you why you should trust me when I can't figure out if I should
trust you again."
"Who are you?" Angel calls out, a note of desperation in his voice. When
there's no answer he calls again. "Please tell me who you are!"
"Dust in the wind,
The words drift down to him, necessarily louder in order for him to hear
it and he can hear the soft tones of a refined English accent and he sucks in a
startled breath and rockets for the ladder up to the fire escapes.
There's no sign of the white-haired man when he reaches the roof and
chill breeze carries only the scents of moulding garbage, stale lives, and lack
of hope that seems to linger in the rundown parts of the city. He starts back
to the ladder leading down to the fire escape and spots a fluttering piece of
paper. A heavy brick holds it from the chaotic breeze and he eases the rock off
and turns the paper towards the moonlight.
The script is graceful and flowing, more ornate than the hurried
scribbles that seem common on modern day handwritten documents. His eyes widen
as he reads the words so carefully set down on the heavy linen paper.
Whenever I day dream,
And daydream I do,
In my secret garden,
I day dream of you.
I daydream of you,
In a faraway land;
Embracing me tight
And holding my hand.
Holding my hand,
And touching my face.
Just you and me,
In this peaceful
place.
In this peaceful place
A pristine river flows.
Where the unicorns run,
A breeze always blows.
A breeze always blows
And sings of a song;
Our love in a place
Where you're never
gone.
Where you're never gone
Is as it would seem,
From dusk until dawn,
Whenever I day dream.
And whenever I daydream,
And daydream I do,
In my secret garden,
I daydream of you.
-
Thou who abruptly as knife did come
to my heart
"
"I'm up here Gunn. Where is
"You won't believe it." Gunn says shaking with stifled laughter. "I
think he was trying to follow you and tripped over something in that alley back
at the club and took a header, knocked himself right out."
"A couple of good ole boys were trying to get him to come around when I
found them and I think half the club was milling about the alley. He's fine but
I think he's going to have a headache for a day or two but he was conscious
when I set out looking for you. Did you find that guy?" Gunn replies.
"He found me."
"What sort of plans?" Gunn asks in a curious tone as he turns and jogs
to catch up to
"First, getting
"What's in
"Do you think that she was lying or something Boss-Man?" Gunn wonders,
wincing as he realizes that he spoke his thoughts aloud without meaning to.
"I'm starting to wonder if she's ever told me the truth." Angel snaps in
an anguished growl, pulling his hands out of his pockets to stroke his thumb
over the heavy silver ring on his finger. He makes the silent promise to make
them all pay if they've lied to him and made him think that his boy was lost.
If they've stolen his boy,
((Start Track 15 now and I'll see you soon!))
End Book One:
TBC in Book Two of the series:
