A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry about the delay. I've had writer's block and was traveling this last week. But, here we go. Back on track with another chapter. There should be two more chapters after this, and we'll see how it goes.
Legacy Chapter 7 - Asking for Leads
Spike and Angel managed to wrestle the demon, Neil, back into the bed and breakfast while Fred and I distracted the owner, Helen. We stood in front of her desk, asking about random brochures she had out and making idle chit-chat.
Just a minute into the pleasantries, Helen beamed with a grin, "My, you two make such a handsome couple!" while Fred and I shared a look.
I shrugged and decided to just go along with it, saying, "Thanks, Helen."
"Did you two have a nice time today?" She said, changing the subject with a knowing wink. "I heard you've been all over town."
"You did, huh?" Fred replied, a look of concern flashing across her face quickly as she met my eye, before she replaced it with a bright smile.
"Did you like Cherry's?" the woman asked us. "Please tell me you tried the boysenberry pie."
"Oh, we did," I nodded, remembering the warm dessert, covered in vanilla ice cream. It had been a nice diversion for the two minutes until I'd finished it off, making my tongue happy. However, my stomach wasn't so pleased that I hadn't had any dinner beforehand.
"And Garrett says you might come by his shop again tomorrow?" A loud thump and a muffled curse floated down from upstairs, drawing Helen's attention to Angel and Spike's presence in the building.
"Helen," Fred exclaimed, touching the woman's arm lightly to get her attention back on us. "Do you know everyone in this town?"
Smiling back at us, the noise forgotten for the moment, she replied, "Almost. 'Bout the only thing to do in a small town like this is socialize."
"You socialize with the best of them, don't you, Helen?" I observed with a smile, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief when the vamps' door closed above us, signaling their success.
"Oh, you're too kind," the woman scoffed, waving as I drew Fred away and towards the stairs with one arm on her shoulder.
Saying goodnight, Fred and I mounted the stairs, heading straight for room Seven. Fred knocked twice before opening the door and slipping in, while I followed shortly behind. When had I gotten so used to this cloak-and-dagger stuff? It took a long time after joining Buffy's team, I think. But I got better and better. Shut up! I did!
In the main area of Spike and Angel's room, the blond vamp held Neil's arms behind the demon's back, while Angel stood in front of them, rocking easily on the balls of his feet. Holy crap, that gesture reminded me of Angelus, of the very brief moments when I interacted with the soulless monster living underneath Angel's soul. People like to forget the monster is there, Buffy especially, and maybe even Fred. But I don't. Never have, never will. Unsurprisingly, I think Spike likes the fact that it's there.
"So, Neil," Angel began, watching as the demon blinked and shivered in Spike's grasp. "We're here on a mission. Problem is, we don't know exactly what mission we're on."
"Sucks for you, man," Neil warbled, his voice going all high and frightened, though he was trying to sound nonchalant.
"That's where you come in, mate," Spike insisted, shaking the demon just a smidge.
"I don't know why you're here! I swear!"
"Maybe," Fred began, smiling at Neil and pulling a chair away from the table. "Maybe we can all just sit down and have a nice chat?"
"Yeah," Angel agreed, taking the chair from Fred and setting it roughly down next to Neil. "Have a seat, buddy, and let's get this over with." Angel sat opposite the demon, straddling another chair backwards, while Neil was held down in his seat by Spike's rough hands on either shoulder. Giving the demon another hard look, Angel asked, "You haven't heard about anything strange going on in town?"
"No, man!" the demon insisted, looking up at me with his dark eyes, pleading with me. I know demons don't have souls, but sometimes when they look at you like that, it's easy to forget, even if they do look like a cross between a person and a fish. And forgetting is what gets you killed.
After looking away, I heard Angel huff and push his chair over the carpet. When I turned around again, he was even closer to the demon, staring him down, one set of dark eyes meeting the others. "We'll let you go as soon as you tell us what you know, Neil," Angel insisted, not even blinking as he eyed the demon. Do vampires even have to blink? They probably do, right? For comfort's sake in any case.
"What do I know? I'm left here all by myself, no friends," Neil whined, shifting and looking away from Angel. "Shit, I'm going into diners now, dressed as one of them." The demon smiled sadly, a grill full of sharp-looking teeth aimed at Fred and me before turning back to Angel. "It's bad, man. But if I had half a clue why, don't you think I would have done something by now?"
"How long has something been wrong?" Fred asked, studying Neil intently, like she'd be able to read any expressions that passed over that fishy face of his. I certainly was having trouble. Besides the pleading-puppy look he'd perfected, this thing was incredibly alien.
The demon shrugged, "Couple a years, maybe? Couldn't tell you when, exactly, things started going wrong." He cocked his head at Fred, studying her right back for a few seconds before Angel snapped his fingers right in front of Neil's face. "Geez, man! For an immortal, you've very little patience, you know?"
"You don't want to know what happens when my patience runs out," Angel insisted with a growl. "Now, what makes you think something is wrong? You said there used to be more demons here?"
"Yeah," Neil nodded eagerly. "There were lots of us here, a whole community, right here in Peddleford."
"How come?" I asked him. "I mean, it's not like there's much of a seedy underbelly to hide out under."
"Well," Neil replied, turning those inhuman eyes and that pleading sharp smile on me again, "a group of us decided we'd had enough of Boston, enough of the big city in general. That was nearing fifty years ago now. I mean, I was spawned here, but most of my friends came earlier. We had everything set up real nice, our own barter system and everything, but then something ruined it."
"What?" Spike asked, shaking the demon again, his patience visibly weakening as he sneered down at the demon.
"I already told you!" he exclaimed. "I don't know exactly. All I know is it started feeling weird here. Itchy, kinda? It doesn't bother me, but almost everyone else packed up and left."
"Almost?" I pounced on that word, familiar with all the words slimy weasels like demons or unethical construction foremen use to talk their way out of reducing the bottom line. "Who's left?"
"Just me, a satyr named Penny. She lives out in the woods between the grocery store and the park. And Largo. But he's cool. Ventus demon, keeps to himself mostly."
Angel sighed and asked him, "That's it? If I go looking around, will I find friends of yours besides Penny and Largo?"
"If you do, it'll be news to me, man. I promise!" Neil's gills were starting to look dried out and papery, fluttering as he seemed to be hyperventilating under the interrogation.
"Any ideas where this 'itchy' feeling is coming from?" Fred asked, solidly bringing the conversation back on track. I couldn't help but smile at how well she held her own next to Angel. It made me wish that I'd visited Deadboy, Wes, and Cordelia at least once, to see how Fred had interacted with all of them. But, it was just too painful to think about seeing Cordy after how things between us ended. And you know, I didn't really have a burning need to see the vampire that broke my best friend's heart.
"All over," Neil replied to Fred's question. "All over town. Like I said, it doesn't really bother me, so maybe I don't feel it as much as the others did."
Furrowing my brows at Spike, I asked him, "Are you picking up on this 'feeling'?"
"I'm so turned around by these visions, mate," Spike shook his head sadly. "But how 'bout you, luv?" he asked Angel.
The dark-haired vampire, closed his eyes for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't feel it. Turning to the demon, Angel asked, "How do we know you aren't lying?"
"Why would I lie?" Neil replied, his voice cracking in a high-pitched squeak that had me wincing and pulling at my ear. "Not really my habit to protect other demons at my own expense, you know? Do I look like a martyr to you?"
"No," Angel agreed roughly, meeting Spike's eyes over Neil's head and doing that little almost-telepathic-conversation thing they do. After a moment, Spike shrugged and nodded, removing his hands from the demon and stepping back.
Neil looked up and back at him in confusion, like he expected Spike to be messing with him. To make their intentions clear, Angel stood up and pointed at me and then the door, which I supposed was an order to open it and grant the demon his freedom. "You can go, Neil." The fishy guy relaxed almost visibly, taking one step in my direction before Angel continued, his voice harsh, "But if I see you around town again, our next conversation won't be so painless. Got it?"
"Ye-yeah," Neil stuttered, keeping one dark eye on Angel and the other on me as he edged past and out the door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the demon took off running, almost tripping over himself in his haste to escape.
"But," Fred began, standing up and following Neil out the door before turning to us three male-type people still in the room, "Helen?"
Angel shrugged. "He knows better than to be seen. And even if she does see him," Angel added, turning his chair back toward the table and sinking down into it, "she won't believe what she's seeing."
"Like Sunnydale all over again," I chuckled. "Denial is a citizen's best friend in this town."
"Still don't know what we're after, though, do we?" Spike asked sadly, kneeling next to Angel's chair and resting his temple on the armrest. Like it was long-standing habit, Angel's hand found the back of Spike's head and neck, petting him gently. "And," Spike added, "the Powers brought us here, I think, so that the poor blighters of this town wouldn't have to tell themselves it's just something in the water, or bloody power lines, or swamp gas. So things – life – can go back to normal."
I joined them at the table, waiting for Fred to take her seat before I scooted past toward my chair. "We need a new lead," I decided, taking one last look at the list of possibilities Angel had written on a yellow legal pad in his girly handwriting.
"Don't –" Spike muttered, just before my phone started ringing.
Looking at the caller ID, I was surprised that the number wasn't Scotland like I'd been expecting. Flipping open the phone, I said, "Y'ello?"
"Is…" the voice on the other end of the line asked hesitantly, "Is this Xander?"
"Yeah," I agreed slowly. "Who's this?"
The woman sighed and her voice warbled as she answered, "Becky. From the hospital?"
"Oh! Hi, Becky," I nodded, looking to the others meaningfully. "Did you think of something else to tell us?"
"Not exactly," she sighed. "I'm working overtime tonight, and we just had another death."
"Another mother?" I asked.
"Yeah."
Shit. This is so not of the good. "Should we come by?"
"Um," Becky stalled. Finally, she took a sharp breath, making a decision and telling me, "If you can get here quickly, you can see the baby before visiting hours are over. He's so…"
"Alright," I agreed, not wanting to know what had to be wrong with a cute little newborn for it to give the nurse a wiggins like this. "Fred and I will bring two more friends. They have some expertise in these matters." Spike scoffed audibly in the background as he stood, finding his jacket from the corner of the room as everyone else stood to leave.
"Okay," Becky agreed skeptically.
"Don't worry," I assured her, "we'll get to the bottom of this. I promise." Spike scoffed at that again. Seriously, that guy needs to get some ne moves. He's too predictable.
"Thanks, Xander," the nurse said. "I'll see you soon."
"Buh-bye," I agreed, hanging up and facing my three compatriots. "Another woman died. We can go see the baby if we leave right away. Maybe figure out what's different about him?"
"I tried to tell you, Harris," Spike snarled as he led the way from the room, pulling the door open quickly, making a dramatic exit.
Catching up to him in the hallway, I asked Spike, "What did you try to tell me, Peroxide Brain?"
"You go around wishing for leads," he said, his voice doing that low and trying-to-be-scary tone, "and now another woman's dead."
"What?" I replied indignantly, looking back to Fred for some support, only to find her shrugging at me. "She was dead for a while at least before I said that," I insisted.
"No," Spike replied, like he couldn't be argued with. "There's blood on your hands now, Scooby. It's all your fault."
I tried to catch up with him as he bounded down the staircase, in order to hit him upside the head, but he was just too quick. And, as Angel passed me, following Spike out to the car, he had the audacity to chuckle at me. Damn vampires!
The four of us made our way over to the hospital, where the humans' new friend, Becky, worked, in order to see this new killer baby. For Christ's sake, this was a weird case. And I've dealt with a lot of strange things in my long life. At least teasing Xander had lifted Spike's spirits some. I could feel how hopeless and exhausted he'd been all day, and I hated being unable to fix it.
When we got to the hospital, Fred and Xander led the way to the maternity ward, approaching one of the nurses right away when we got there. "Becky," Fred greeted the woman, clearing up her identity for those of us who were undead. The woman looked sad and freaked out as Fred asked, "What exactly happened?"
The woman glanced past Fred and nodded at Spike and me, asking suspiciously, "These are your friends?"
"They are," Fred insisted, smiling back at us while Xander rolled his eye. "We're here to help."
"Well, like I said on the phone," she began, keeping her voice low as she ushered us into a patient's room, "it's happened again. Martha Kowalski swore to me that she didn't know how she got pregnant, since her husband left her over a year ago. And just like my sister, she started hemorrhaging after we got the baby out. She died before we could stop the bleeding."
While Becky was speaking, Spike backhanded my shoulder lightly and nodded back to the occupant of the single bed. The patient was an older man, hooked up to all sorts of machines and looking like he wasn't getting up anytime soon. I shrugged at Spike in response, figuring Becky knew that this would be a safe place to talk.
"What about the baby?" Xander asked the woman.
"He's in the nursery," she answered, raking her hands through her hair and meeting the boy's eye. "We don't even know who's going to take him. Maybe Martha's mother? She's flying in from Arizona tomorrow. God, this is such a fucking mess!"
Fred patted the nurse's shoulder, comforting her and asking, "Does this baby seem different? Like you said the others did?"
"Yeah," Becky replied, wiping a few tears from under her eyes. "He didn't cry at all. None of them cry."
"Ange and I'll go take a peek at the little tyke," Spike decided, taking my hand as he asked the nurse, "Which way, luv?"
"Just down the hall," she said, pointing. "But visiting hours are almost over."
"We'll be right back," I told her, letting Spike lead the way, tugging me by the hand.
When we got back out into the hallway, I asked Spike, "What do you think we'll find that the doctors didn't?"
"Dunno, pet," Spike answered with a shrug. "But I've got a feeling."
"Awesome," I sighed. "A feeling."
And then, we approached a large window, looking in on a room that held five infants, each in their own clear plastic bassinette, and a very protective looking nurse. Despite her presence, Spike forged on ahead, stepping into the room without even making sure I would follow. Leaping before he looked, yet again.
"Can I help you?" the nurse asked, approaching Spike right away, suspicion clear on her face.
"I'm Martha Kowalki's brother," Spike lied. "Here to see the nephew, maybe help console the loss of my dear sister." God, Spike even made his voice waver as if he actually was in mourning. And was that a tear? I swear, if I didn't have this bond, letting me feel what he was feeling all the time, I would never be sure he wasn't lying to me.
"I didn't know Martha had a brother," the nurse replied, crossing her arms over her chest angrily. "And your accent?"
"Half-brother," Spike insisted, without missing a beat. "Quite the scandal, luv. Share a father with dear Martha, though never got to know him, growing up 'cross the pond with me mum. Reconnected with Martha just a few years ago," he sniffed sadly, leaning back against me, "and now she's gone!"
Spike turned and buried his face in my shoulder as if he were sobbing. Trying not to roll my eyes, I squeezed him closer, whispering, "Shh, hon. It's okay."
The nurse's face changed so rapidly, that I almost laughed. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she cried, patting Spike's back carefully and looking like she might start crying at any moment out of sympathy. "Of course you can see him!"
She lead us to one of the bassinettes, while Spike spluttered and rubbed his face to make it look like he'd cried more than a few tears over the loss of dear Martha. "Here he is," she said, tapping the bassinette lightly, "Baby Boy Kowalski."
"She didn't even get to name him?" Spike cried, to all appearances utterly devastated.
"No," the nurse shook her head. "Martha died before she could tell us."
Spike wailed again, hooking one hand heavily on my shoulder like he needed help to stay standing. Looking up at the nurse as I wrapped one arm around Spike's waist, I furrowed my brow and asked, "Could you give us a few moments with him?"
"Of course," she nodded. "Just don't take him from the room, or the alarms will sound."
"I understand," I told her, hugging Spike closer and trying not to notice how good he smelled despite the crocodile tears. "Thank you."
The nurse nodded once more and left, the door closing smoothly behind her.
"That went well," Spike observed, his tone suddenly happy as he grinned over at me.
Scoffing, I bent to look at the child, checking him over carefully for any signs of what was going on here. The baby was sleeping soundly, his cap slipping from his head and his mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling steadily. "He looks normal," I said carefully as Spike crouched down beside the crib, peering at the baby through the plastic like he was a fucking iguana in a tank.
Inhaling and weaving his head back and forth a bit, Spike replied, "Doesn't smell normal though, does he?"
Getting a whiff, I said, "You're right." I took in more of the air above Baby Boy Kowalski as I carefully pulled his cap back onto his head with a practiced motion, since that always used to happen to Connor, too. Though momentarily thrown by the comparison, I managed to ask Spike, "Can you place the scent?"
"Demonic," he replied without hesitation. "Not sure what breed."
"Mmm," I hummed, unable to stop myself from brushing the baby's cheek with one knuckle, "me neither."
"Don't go all weepy on me, ya big poof," Spike scolded as he stood, "just cause he's an orphan. Know you have a tendency to take in strays."
"What?" I asked, backing away from the infant and scoffing at Spike as he drew closer. "I do not collect strays. And children are not strays."
"Oh, you love collecting lost souls, and you know it," Spike grinned, clapping me on the back. "Wes? Gunn? Fred? Me?"
"Okay," I growled, shrugging off his hand. "Maybe. But pointing out my character flaws won't help us determine what sort of demon fathered this baby."
"We'll have Fred bring up a list and then just start eliminating, yeah? We already know vampire's out, your freakish case notwithstanding."
"Even if it was," I shrugged, "he'd smell more like Connor."
Tilting his head at me, Spike smiled, "You miss him, luv?"
Returning Spike's smile sadly and trying to wish away the clenching in my chest whenever I thought about my son, who was so far away at school these days, I asked, "How could you tell?"
Sniffing like he does when he's amused, Spike answered, "Get this tone in your voice and a pain right here." He put a flat hand over my heart, pressing just enough to let me know he was there. I grabbed his hand in mine, bringing it away from my chest before the tenderness of the moment could really get to me.
"Let's get back to the others," I said, drawing him away from the infant. "We've seen enough for now."
"Right, then," Spike agreed with a nod and one last glance backward at Baby Boy Kowalski before he followed me, slipping back into a mask of overwhelming grief so suddenly that I almost asked him what was wrong, before I realized that his answer would have been, "Nothing."
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