TITLE: Body and Soul Trilogy - The Curse - Chapter 6
AUTHOR: Lysia
EMAIL: cricket818uk@wadnitt.fsnet.co.uk
FEEDBACK: Very much appreciated. Praise is encouraging, constructive
criticism is used to improve.
RATING: 12, for violence.
WARNING: Violence, angst. And possibly language. Light S/A comfort-
type romance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of them, but I'll give them back to Joss
when I've finished with them.
SPOILERS: Set sometime after 'Forever'.
ARCHIVING: Here. Anywhere else, just ask.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guide to characters from FFL - Henry Carver is the
bloke who read the poem out at the party; Charles Hamilton is the
other man at the party; Katharine Millington-Parks is the woman with
the funny hair-do who was with them.

Chapter 6

The little team of researchers looked up as Buffy led Spike into the
Magic Shop. The vampire's head was bowed, his posture stooped.

Giles looked up from a book. "Buffy," he announced in greeting, his
gaze falling upon the cringing and miserable-looking vampire beside
her. "And Spike."

"Hi," Buffy replied, giving her Watcher a small smile, not wanting to
appear too happy around Spike. "We're here. You said you'd hit the
jackpot with Spike's non-fan-club."

Giles nodded as Buffy and Spike approached the table. "Yes, we've
found a whole chapter on them in the Watchers' book of vampire cults,
groups and Orders," he explained proudly. "If you'd care to take a
seat we'll inform you of what we know." He leaned a little closer to
Buffy and lowered his voice. "May I ask - why is Spike wearing my
coat?"

Buffy frowned. "Because it's cold," she replied, suddenly feeling
awkward. "I told him you probably wouldn't mind."

"No, I suppose not," Giles sighed, sitting back down and preparing to
read from his notes. "Not now, anyway."

Spike merely sniffed and slumped into a chair, as far away from the
others as possible.

"Okay, shall we get started?" Willow announced nervously, not liking
Spike's moodiness.

"Right," Giles agreed, flicking to the first page of his notes. "The
names Spike gave us are those of four infamous vampires, the leaders
of the Order Vherdakhi. This means the Order of the Bastards, if
you'll excuse my French."

"Why would they call themselves that?" Buffy asked with a distasteful
frown.

"Illegitimate," Willow explained. "Or, to be more specific, Sireless.
The 'Master' of the Order is a man called Henry Carver, now known
as 'Skull'. He's a real mystery vampire 'cos it doesn't look as
though he has a Sire."

"We're still trying to figure out how that happened," Tara
added. "There are no records of him being turned or trained by
another vampire, and that sort of thing just doesn't happen. Unless,
of course, the vampire just gets staked as soon as they wake up."

"However," Giles added, "despite his lack of training, it seems that
Skull has managed to kill two Slayers, one in England in World War I
and another in France in 1996 - before you were called. Apparently he
is a skilled fighter and, according to records by other people who
have faced him, he's um... impervious to pain."

"Impervious to pain?" Buffy squeaked, suddenly less confident. "How'd
that happen?"

"Well," Giles muttered, flicking through his book. "There is very
little evidence but it would appear that he sustained a serious head
injury shortly before he was turned. We can't be sure as he always
wears a hat or head-covering of some kind. It would indicate a wound
to the head but we have no proof."

Buffy shuddered. "Well what about the others?"

"Um..." Giles found the correct page. "Skull has three Childer calling
themselves the Unholy Trinity. It is believed that he turned them
immediately after his own transformation. Charles Hamilton - now
known as 'Great Father' is the one who turns other vampires to
increase the Order's ranks, but Spike informs me he's already
disposed of him; Cecily Addams, who now calls herself Christia due to
her marks of the stigmata is a renowned torturer, particularly liking
to mark her victims with marks similar to her own; and Katharine
Millington-Park, who is now named Myst, is a powerful witch. She
doesn't fight because she's never had to. No-one has ever got near
enough to her to attempt a fight."

Buffy shot Giles a worried glance. "So... we get long-range weapons? So
we don't have to get close enough for her to do whatever nasty stuff
she does to people?"

"I believe that would be the best plan," Giles agreed, a note of
doubt in his voice. "It's just... I haven't told you the worst part
yet."

Buffy held her hands up. "After one vampire immune to pain, one
seriously psycho bitch with a liking for nailing people to crosses
and a witch who kills people before they get anywhere near her I
don't want to hear the bad part."

Giles flicked over a page in his notes. Buffy was going to hear the
worst part anyway. "The Order of Vherdakhi has the largest core
family of any Order. Usually an Order has a few true Childer, or the
core family, and a team of minions turned or paid to work with them."

"What's the difference?" Tara asked. "I thought vampires were just
vampires."

"Childer tend to be stronger," Giles explained, sitting back and
polishing his glasses thoughtfully. "They are given more of their
Sire's blood after turning, which gives them greater strength and
also creates a more powerful almost familial bond between the two.
Minions just tend to be devoted servants and are far less strong."

"That explains a lot," Buffy said, considering what Giles had
explained. "'Cos usually the vamps I kill in the cemetery aren't too
tough, but occasionally I meet one who's just really strong and gets
away."

"That would be a true Childe," Giles confirmed. "He would probably be
at the cemetery waiting for a new minion to rise from the grave."

"Um... what's this got to do with our little vampire gang?" Xander
asked, a little disturbed at the thought of the vampires he had just
managed to kill being pretty run-of-the-mill with no super-strength.

Giles sighed and looked mournfully at the book on the table. He
hadn't liked this news one bit. "The Order of Vherdakhi is made up
entirely of true Childer. They don't leave them as minions as they
are weaker and they don't employ vampire mercenaries as they'll only
be in it for the money. What we are dealing with here is a very large
group of very strong vampires, all sharing a close blood bond,
devoted to each other as we are to our own families, more-so in fact."

Buffy chewed nervously on her bottom lip. It was crunch time. "Okay,"
she said, her voice a weak croak. "How many?"

"On last count," Giles announced, looking at his frighteningly
concerned Slayer, "almost fifty."

Buffy took a shaky breath, not wanting to imagine facing fifty
stronger-than-average vampires with guardians who would take serious
offence if she killed any of them. "Tell me some good news?" she
pleaded with Giles.

Giles shrugged apologetically and looked at his notes. "Well, the
only other news is mere speculation. The best of it is that Skull
himself may not even be a true Childe. It is highly possible that due
to the nature of his turning he didn't receive any more of his Sire's
blood after rising so if you can actually fight him he won't be any
stronger than the vampires you dust on a nightly basis. Hopefully, if
you can take out Skull and the remaining two of his Trinity the rest
will simply disband, afraid that if their leaders were defeated in
battle then their fate would undoubtedly be the same."

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, sounds like a plan," she agreed,
her voice still a little shaky. "I think it could work."

"That is if the rumours are true. We cannot be sure if Skull is
indeed only a minion."

"Well I think the best..."

"He's not."

The group looked up at Spike in surprise. It was the first time the
vampire had said anything throughout the entire discussion and it was
a shock.

"He's not a minion," Spike repeated flatly. "Not anymore."

"Spike," Giles asked curiously, closing his book and watching as the
newly ensouled vampire scratched nervously at his nail polish. "Do
you have some information to add?"

Spike chuckled humourlessly to himself. "What do you want to know?"
he asked with a sigh. "All three of them were sired at Hampstead
Heath railway station during the spring of 1880. Henry Carver and I
were rivals, both having affections for the same woman: Cecily
Addams. Charles Hamilton was Carver's best friend and he was involved
with Katharine Millington-Park. The four of them were my first solo
kill without Angelus's help." He laughed again, shaking his head at
the absurdity and unfairness of it all. "It's been interesting
finding out what they've been up to lately."

Giles's questioning look became a harsh glare as he realised what
Spike was saying. "You're his Sire, aren't you?"

Spike's hand automatically went up to his neck to rest over the thick
dressing covering the wound where Carver - or 'Skull' as he appeared
to be calling himself now - had bitten him. He nodded silently,
avoiding Giles's glare.

"Well that explains a lot of his behaviour," Giles sighed bitterly,
not looking away from Spike.

"Huh?" Xander interrupted, one finger raised cautiously. "How does
Spike being this guy's Sire explain anything? I thought they would be
all nice to each other with this family bond thing going on, but
Skull and his gang attacked Spike."

"Yes," Giles replied with a disappointed shake of his head. "We're
dealing with an insane psychopath. Without a Sire to serve or to
teach him how to adjust to his new life Skull's mind is quite
probably... warped beyond repair. With what we could best describe as a
parental figure deserting him immediately after his turning he
appears to have twisted the 'familial' bond, so the instincts to
serve and respect Spike have become a lust for revenge."

"It's like what happened with Angel," Willow concluded eagerly. "When
Spike and Dru got here they wanted to kill Angel, and he's their
Sire."

"Angel left twenty years after I was turned," Spike explained
quietly, his voice weak. "I was angry as hell with him for that. But
what I did to Carver was much worse. I was never even there."

"Kind of hypocritical if you ask me," Xander commented.

"Well Spike," Giles announced, shooting Spike a look of
disgust. "It's safe to say that you're responsible for creating one
of the most vicious and ruthless vampire cults in history."

"I didn't know!" Spike blurted out in desperation, his guilt already
unbearable without the blame of the others for his mistake. "I was
young! I didn't even know I could create other vampires, and I didn't
do it on purpose! It was an accident!"

"An accident," Giles sneered, clearly annoyed. "That makes everything
alright. If all Skull's victims were killed simply because of your
carelessness, then you're entirely in the clear, no worries at all!"

"Stop it," Spike mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. "I can't take
this."

"He's right!" Buffy snapped at the furious Watcher. "Back off."

Giles fell silent, controlling his temper as he realised that yelling
at Spike was not going to make things better. This vicious vampire
Order were responsible for the deaths of thousands of people - much
more than any usual vampire group - and finding out that they had
come into existence through Spike's carelessness was infuriating.
However, a glace at Spike assured him that the chipped demon was no
less upset. Spike was sitting wringing his hands violently, his
shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry," Giles said begrudgingly. "It's just... I'm loathe to think
that all those people had to suffer simply because of this idiot
making a stupid mistake on his first hunt."

"Leave him alone!" Buffy pleaded angrily, leaping to Spike's
defence. "Can't you see how upset he is? You can't blame him for what
happened while he was evil. I don't believe this - Giles, you and
Xander said you felt sorry for him earlier."

Xander shook his head. "No. We felt sorry for the poor little scared
Victorian guy who suddenly found himself in the twenty-first century
and didn't have a clue what was going on. This is Spike we're talking
about now." He glared at the aforementioned vampire, unaffected by
the angry and distressed look he got back. "The vampire who tried to
kill us countless times and enjoyed killing other people for more
than a century. Just because he's got a nice chunk of guilt now
doesn't make him any less evil."

"You're so bigoted!" Buffy shot back, getting to her feet, just as
Xander did the same. "You were exactly like this with Angel! Spike
has a soul now and he would never..."

"No he probably wouldn't kill again, but that doesn't change what
he's done!"

Spike was trying his best to sit patiently as the pair shouted at
each other across the table, but to hear himself being yelled about
as if he wasn't even in the room was too much. "That's it," he
growled, flinging his chair across the room and heading for the
door. "I can't stay here and listen to this."

"No, Spike!" Buffy protested immediately. "Stay."

"No, please go!" Xander contradicted. "Your good and virtuous new
self is making us look bad!"

"You can quit the sarcasm, Xander. Nobody's impressed!" Buffy told
him, her voice harsh.

Spike rubbed his aching head. "Alright, the two of you both just SHUT
UP!" he bellowed.

The room became silent and everyone stared at Spike as he clutched
his head, his face twisted in sheer emotional agony. "Will you...
please..." he gasped, his breathing heavy with the stress of his
situation, "stop arguing. You don't even know what I'm going through.
You have no right to judge me - either way!" He pointed accusingly at
Xander. "You can stop piling the guilt on me. I've got enough of that
to contend with already." He shifted his gaze to Buffy. "And you can
stop comparing me to Angel. I know that's what you're doing. This
doesn't make me like him, you know. Don't you start defending me all
of a sudden just 'cos I'm all souled up. That's not making me feel
any better."

Buffy and Xander shifted awkwardly, suddenly very self-conscious as
they took their seats.

"He's right," Willow agreed. "Arguing about this isn't helping
anyone."

"Yeah," Spike muttered, wiping his eyes surreptitiously. "'Sides, I
don't wanna cause any agro between you lot. I've already done that
once and I..." He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to clear
the memories.

"Feel guilty about it?" Tara finished for him with a small
sympathetic smile in his direction.

Spike nodded. "Yep," he replied quietly. He looked up at the group
again and took a deep breath. "Now," he announced, "if you don't
mind, I'm going to bugger off and find somewhere dark and dank to
wallow in me own self-pity for a bit so you lot can shout about me to
your hearts' content and I don't have to listen to a single word of
it."

He turned on his heel, ready to make his way out of the shop for a
very depressing and film noir-style walk in the midnight rain, only
to find that the doorway was blocked by the tall and muscular frame
of an all-too-familiar man.

"Angel?" The word came out as a pathetic squeak and Spike bit his
lip, embarrassed.

Angel stared in shock at his Childe. He hadn't prepared himself for
this. The last time he had seen Spike, the younger vampire had been
watching with glee as a maniac with a passion for hot pokers and
Brahms had repeatedly skewered his Sire for the sake of the Gem of
Amarra. Angel and Spike were essentially enemies, but Angel had acted
on instinct the moment he sensed his Childe's distress. Now he was
beginning to think it had not been a good idea.

The confusion that washed over Angel was enough to make him dizzy. He
could feel the waves of pain, misery and guilt radiating off the
younger vampire as they stood facing each other, barely a yard apart,
in the doorway of the shop. His heart was filled with pity and
understanding, and also with the overwhelming desire to hold his
Childe in his arms and comfort him, tell him it would be alright and
that he would take care of him. But Spike may not want that.

Angel steeled himself and did nothing. He simply stood and waited for
Spike to make the first move, whether it was a brutal attack, either
with kicks and punches or that sneering wit Angel had found so
grating, or simply acknowledge Angel as his Sire again and accept
comfort.

But Spike was still and silent. He avoided any eye contact with his
Sire, preferring to stare at the floor. This was getting to be too
much for him - yet another person who could tell him how to cope with
his pain, to pretend they knew better than he did.

Spike's silence worried Angel. Usually the bleached vampire was so
full of life, so talkative, and this miserable withdrawn creature he
saw before him didn't resemble his rowdy headstrong Childe in the
least. Tentatively, Angel extended his hand to rest it on Spike's
shoulder.

"Spike?" he asked quietly, praying for some response. "Are you okay?"

He did get a reaction, for which he was grateful as it proved Spike
was not completely brain-dead with guilt. However, the reaction he
got was not the one he expected.

Spike slapped Angel's hand away, blurting out an aggressive "Piss
off!" as he beat a hasty retreat to the training room.

"Spike, come back!" Angel pleaded with Spike's departing back,
watching his Childe disappear through the doorway. He glanced warily
at the mortals gathered around the table and raised one eyebrow
questioningly. "I was going to ask how he's doing," he
commented, "but I think I know the answer."

Giles gestured to the empty seat Spike had vacated and set about
cleaning his glasses. "It turns out this situation is slightly more
complicated than we first anticipated," the Watcher explained. "If
you'd care to take a seat we'll divulge the details."

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike sat on the sofa in the training room, his shoulders hunched,
his hands clasped to his knees. He was trying so hard to make the
memories and guilt go away, but his mind simply wouldn't rest. He
shivered and fought the urge to curl up and sob his heart out. Would
he be tormented like this forever?

Hesitantly, Angel stepped into the training room, sighing regretfully
when he saw his Childe shivering on the sofa, fighting the painful
emotions he knew only too well. He sat down beside Spike, hoping the
younger vampire would accept his offer of comfort. Spike barely
registered his presence, but did not, to Angel's relief, run off
again.

"So," Angel began, hoping that now Spike would listen to him, "you
sired Carver."

The tic in Spike's jaw informed his Sire that he was listening, and
also that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"You sired him and left him before he even woke up." It wasn't a
question. Angel knew. "You know he's going to come after you again."

Spike nodded. "Don't blame him," he replied miserably. "I know how he
feels. I hate you..."

Angel was taken aback. He had thought that maybe their past fights
could be put behind them now Spike, like his Sire, had a soul, but
apparently not. "I'm sorry," he replied immediately, fighting against
the feelings of rejection. "I'm only trying to help."

"No," Spike mumbled, looking up and shaking his head. He looked
straight at his Sire, finding odd comfort in the sympathetic and
concerned look he found in Angel's eyes. "You left," he continued,
uneasy, overcome with pain. "You got cursed and you left me and Dru
with that bitch of a Sire of yours. And I hated you for it. Now I've
found out I did something even worse. How can I be angry with him
when I've felt exactly the same? And now I hate myself for being
angry with you when I've done the same thing as you did..."

"No," Angel insisted, grabbing Spike's shoulder and forcing him to
face him. "It was different. I don't blame you for being angry."

"I know it was different," Spike sighed, trying desperately to fight
the whirlwind of emotions in his head. "You left because you got your
soul, and I understand that now - more than I'd like to - but what
reason did I have to leave Carver like that?"

He shuddered. He knew how his Childe must have felt to find his Sire
gone after waking up. He remembered how he had mourned Angel's
departure for months, swearing vengeance on those who had taken his
Sire from him and struggling to cope with his sudden independence. It
must have been worse for Carver - a fledgling minion with no
understanding of his new life or what had happened to him. Spike
cringed with guilt. "What excuse could I possibly give him?" he
murmured.

"You didn't know you could turn someone, did you?" Angel announced,
recollecting that he hadn't taught Spike the technicalities of
turning a minion.

Spike stared at the floor, shaking his head to the negative.

"Well, there you go," Angel concluded, smiling gently in the hopes of
cheering Spike up a little. "I never told you how potent your blood
was. I guess I should have taught you to be more careful. And now
you've got a psycho-offspring out there who wants to kill you." Angel
paused for a moment, bracing himself for the reaction to his next
statement. "We're going to have to fight him, you know."

"After what I've done to him already?" Spike choked out, his voice
cracking. Despite the torture he had suffered at the hands of the
Order of Vherdakhi, he wasn't about to go and kill their leader -
not after causing him so much pain already. The thought of any
violence at all sent a chill through him. How Angel managed to battle
evil with his soul Spike had no idea.

"You won't have to," Angel assured him quickly, noticing the younger
vampire's distress. "I just hope you won't object to any of the
others fighting him. They're planning a major attack out there, and
my people are coming up from LA."

Spike nodded silently. "If that's what needs to be done," he said
firmly, clearly not liking the idea of anyone killing his estranged
Childe. The newly formed blood-bond between them was powerful and it
would take more than torture to break the vampire 'family' tie Spike
had with Carver, thanks to his snacking on Spike's neck. But Spike
knew that he would have yet more deaths on his hands if the large
vampire Order were not battled. He had to choose the lesser of two
evils.

"You're a brave man, Spike," Angel informed Spike proudly. "I know
this can't be easy for you."

"I'm not a man," Spike mumbled, wringing his hands. "I'm a monster."

"Well," Angel explained with a sigh, rubbing Spike's back tenderly,
as if comforting a small boy, "you're a damned sight closer to being
a man than you were this time yesterday. Now look, the others are
going home to get some rest before we prepare for a battle with Skull
and his gang. I'm sure none of them would object to you staying with
them."

"No," Spike replied bluntly, turning away and fiddling with his
flaking nail polish. "I-I wouldn't want to be... a nuisance."

Angel nodded, wondering what had caused this sudden bout of
stubbornness. "Okay," he mused, getting to his feet. "Well I'm
staying at our old mansion on Crawford Street. If you like you can..."

"I'll be alright here," Spike insisted, making himself more
comfortable on the sofa.

Angel frowned dubiously and got to his feet. Spike was giving the
impression that he didn't want his company any more, and he was not
going to pester his Childe any longer. He knew from his own
experiences that the next few days would be difficult and
pressurising Spike would not help.

"I'll check on you tomorrow," he vowed, heading for the door.

Spike was just staring blankly at the floor. "Uh-huh," he muttered.

Angel paused, looking at Spike. He was trying so hard to appear
tough, but Angel knew the truth. "You know I'm here for you," he
informed his Childe solemnly, just trying to get some positive
reaction. "I came here because I was worried about you. I forgive you
for what you've done, and I want to help."

Spike smirked, trying not to show how pleased he was at his Sire's
possessiveness and concern. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "Now piss
off. You said you've got battles to prepare for and wotnot."

Angel did as he was told and pissed off, vanishing into the shop and
leaving Spike alone with his thoughts. The blonde curled up on the
sofa, staring at the ceiling. His reunion with his Sire had gone
reasonably well. It wasn't the teary reconciliation of two long-
parted friends who had missed each other dearly, but it was a nice
start. Spike missed having someone to take care of him.

As an evil demon, he would never have admitted to being dependent
whenever things got him down. It was a throw-back to his human days.
Sadly, he had entered the immortal world with a great deal of
emotional baggage, one of his principal problems being he didn't cope
well on his own in a crisis. As a human, his own family had paid
little attention to him, leaving his nurturing to a chain of
governesses and, later, schoolmasters. Having Angelus care for him
and teach him, looking on with pride and fondness when his young
Childe began to show his strength and ingenuity, was a new experience
for the newly-turned William. He had revelled in it, and when Angelus
had left he had been devastated. Suddenly he was alone, having to
keep Darla amused with hunts and parties and take care of Dru in her
frequent fits and hallucinations. He was the man of the family.

After Dru left him he just couldn't bear to be alone. Harmony was
supposed to be his rebound girl, but he found her sympathetic cooing
more annoying than comforting. Being cared for when he was down was
one thing, but being babied constantly, even when he felt just
peachy, was just plain patronising.

Perhaps this soul thing had hidden blessings after all. He had the
sympathies of some of the Scooby gang, patronising as they were at
the moment, and, best of all, his Sire could finally take care of him
again. Okay, he still wasn't ready to be best friends with Angel, but
at least he didn't have to worry about being independent if his pain
became too much. It was a nice feeling, and for once Spike didn't
mind admitting it to himself.

~TBC~