Title: Episode 1--From Scratch
Author: ViciousVixen
Category: Drama, Angst
Distribution: Please put a note, including email address, into my review section if you would like to post this story elsewhere.
Rating: PG-13, but bordering on R (for graphic scenes)
'Ship: None
Timeframe: Several months after the battle with the Senior Partners
Summary: Spike and Gunn evade Wolfram & Hart's legions. With no leader and no plan--despite their best efforts, they will be found.
Author's Note: I don't like to kill off characters (especially the star of the show), but I don't like to bring back characters that Joss killed in the first place. That is all.
Disclaimer: I don't own these wonderful characters, and I certainly don't get paid for them. I wish I did, but I don't. Lucky for them--Joss & Co. are nicer to them than I would be...
--
The echoes of boots briskly hitting the pavement disturbed the silence of the near-barren street. Cupping his arms around his waist, Spike tried to keep the delivery from falling through his jacket and pulled the leather coat tightly around him. Sharp clicks mimicked Spike's heavy steps, almost well enough to conceal, but his vampire hearing instantly recognized the uneven sound. Time working against him, Spike turned down an even more deserted alley and lighted his pace a touch.
The slight-paranoia state of Spike's senses refused to fail him when he felt a disturbance in the air. Suddenly halting, he slid to his left as a leg flew at his face from inside the shadows beside him. As the leg came down, a vampire landed into view and took a lumbering swing at Spike. The punch was easily avoided with a retreating lean, but the sweeping kick to follow was a little more difficult to dodge. Righting himself, Spike simultaneously jumped over a second vampire's leg, giving the sweep just enough room to jet through the air beneath his feet.
Still a little shocked from the sudden attack, Spike took a step back to steady his balance and reaffirm his grip on his flimsy container. He re-rolled the top of the paper bag as he took it from inside his jacket and carefully wrapped his hand over the fold, effectively sealing it shut.
His first attacker smirked as he sauntered forward. "Where're you running to Spike? Nothing's so important that you can't stop for a sec and talk with your fellow vamps."
Time ticked away.
"Don't need any trouble from the trolls—just tryin' to get by."
Curiosity glimmered in the other vampire's eye. "What's in the bag?"
"Nothin' for you."
"Well, if you wanna avoid trouble, maybe you should show us anyway."
I don't have time for this. Spike held the bag out, baiting the duo. "Come 'ere then. Just a peek, now."
Satisfied with their momentary victory, the vamps walked over and reached for their concealed prize. Spike quickly ceased the opportunity and, throwing the bag in the air, activated Angel's wrist-stakes, disposing of both vamps just in time to catch the bag.
Said I didn't need any trouble.
Spotting a nearby manhole, Spike tucked the bag under his coat once again and dropped into the sewer. Behind him, he didn't notice the click of women's heels resume once again. A woman dressed in a black skirt-suit and pumps strayed along the shadow at the entrance to the alley. She stopped as she reached a patch of moonlight, separating her from Spike's sewer exit, and the clipboard she held became visible in the moon's soft glow.
Drawing it away from her torso, she brought a pen up to her list—a few words already written in loop-filled feminine handwriting:
Weapons—Angelus's wrist-stakes used by Spike, crossbows and axes primarily used
Vehicle—Plymouth GTX (Angelus's)
Apartments—Spike's Wolfram & Hart flat hidden in plain sight
Sewer Access
Lifting her pen, the woman lightly penned a dash next to "sewer access", preceding a new word: "Available". With a smirk, she slid the pen into the gap at the top of the clipboard and strolled away.
--
Wasting no time, Spike emerged from the sewers a few minutes later, climbing up through a grate into the underground parking garage of St. Matthew's Hospital. The orange-yellow of an elevator light guided Spike toward it as a ding sounded and the doors quietly slid open.
People flooded out of the small compartment, and Spike entered, pressing the button for the fourth floor. He continued to dwell on the happy family he watched moments before as they exited the elevator.
A glowing mother hummed a full deep tone as she glided her newborn girl in the brand new stroller. Spike easily distinguished the fresh musky scent of the child.
He could almost see his soulless-self, just as the family was stepping off of the elevator. He would have said something to the mother. Cute kid ya got there. She would have shyly smiled in kind and turned to walk away. And that's when he would have grabbed the baby. He would have stood and smiled as she screamed and the doors closed. He could hear her terror, feel her fear, as he gazed into the child's barely seeing eyes. The same eyes stretched in awe and wonder as Spike switched from his human guise to his vampire visage. So warm; blood ran so near the surface. The child's heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his fangs elongated as he opened his jaw and stretched it around the baby's neck and shoulders.
Ding!
The elevator doors opened, revealing the fourth floor and Spike's stop. Almost forgetting his task, Spike felt of the bag, to which he continued to cling, and put his arm out to stop the doors from shutting once again.
Picking up a lighter gait, Spike exited and unconsciously walked the familiar path to the nurse's station. A young lady looked up as he approached the countertop, and she smiled.
"Hey Spike. Here to check on Charles?"
The candy striper uniform she wore was always enough to make Spike chuckle, and he stifled his laughter for Gunn's sake.
"Just wanted to see how the lazy sod is gettin' on."
She rolled her eyes with a smile and continued to sort the paper work on her desk. "'Lazy.' Well that's the understatement of the century. Seems like he's having the nurses do everything for him."
"Well, that pee tube thing can't be comfortable," he replied with a sly wink. She giggled in reply. "I'll make it a quick visit, cutie. Promise."
Giving in to Spike's subtle flirtation, she waved him away, "Fine. You've got fifteen minutes—but that's it."
"Don't worry, luv. Won't be long."
A moment later, Spike reached Gunn's room and lightly rapped on the door.
A hushed voice replied from within. "Who's there?"
"The tooth fairy."
"Funny. You got the stuff?"
"I said I'd bring it."
Taking the bag out, Spike opened the door and stepped inside. Gunn sat eagerly, nearly to the point of wringing his hands. Teasing him, Spike held the bag in front of his bed-confined friend and quickly snatched it away again.
"Hey! Not cool."
Spike grinned and tossed the bag at him. Easily catching it, Gunn didn't bother unrolling the top of the bag but excitedly ripped it open instead.
Huffing with annoyance, Spike slumped into a nearby chair. "I can't believe I risked my neck for fried chicken."
Gunn carefully removed the three small drumsticks and arranged them onto his bed tray.
"The greater good, Spike. The greater good."
--
A nightmare woke Connor from his light sleep. The return of his memories often brought more terror than comfort in the past few weeks, and his subconscious refused to let him forget the knowledge of his past life, his true self. The Destroyer.
Turning over onto his back, he reached for his nightstand. Radio. Comb. Lamp. Finally—glass…but no water. Reluctantly, Connor flipped the covers over at the corner and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed the glass and shakily stood. Deciding against hitting the light switch in the dead of night, he put his feet on the ground and stood to begin his long journey to the kitchen.
Pain shot through his shin when he kicked his dresser in his blind stupor. The memories of his old life rapidly merged with the new in his waking hours, and he often forgot where he was or how he arrived in his foreign surroundings. Navigating his room in the dark became increasingly more difficult.
Feeling along the wall, Connor stopped when he found the doorknob. He began to turn the brass handle and suddenly stopped when he heard a crash. Listening again, he heard the creak of footsteps as someone walked down the hall.
His superhuman instincts weren't exactly up to par, but whether the figure outside his room was an intruder or not, he was going to be ready.
The bedroom door slammed open, puncturing the wall where the doorknob should have rested. A khoryl demon invited itself inside and surveyed the empty room.
Connor immediately measured itself up to it. Five feet, seven inches to its seven feet, five inches. Thin, intelligent, former-Destroyer to an overdeveloped, muscular demon carrying a large ax. Two options: bust out of the closet and jump through the window or try to fight the demon—and possibly die trying.
Easy decision.
With a yell, Connor flung the closet door open, probably making another hole in the wall, and jumped onto the demon's back. Catching it off-guard, the demon lost its balance and pitched forward. The ax crunching into the khoryl's chest did little to soften the fall, but Connor survived unscathed.
Pausing for a moment, Connor stood and used some of his recovering super-strength to listen for any other demons. Only silence.
He ran into the main hallway and halted as his feet landed with a moist squish. Smelling the air, Connor gagged as the scent of blood filled his nostrils. He heaved over, clutching his stomach, and followed the smell to the place where it was strongest. The path forked in the middle of the corridor and the suffocating stench split its origin—one channel wafting from his parents' bedroom with the other course belonging to the bedroom of his sister.