Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS.
Many thanks to ObscureBookWyrm for looking this over for me.
Dawn of a New Age
Chapter Twenty Five
The locker room smelled of sweaty gym socks and antiperspirant. It was a smell intimately familiar to Graham, who'd spent most of his life in similar rooms. First as an all-star quarterback in high school, then as first in his class at boot camp, and later agilely climbing the ranks at various military posts that didn't allow for something as selfish as privacy. Privacy was for individuals. The Army was a collective of one.
"They're all just animals. I don't see what the squints want with them. We should just put them all down," Forrest complained bitterly as he wrapped more protective gauze around his thigh.
Graham watched dispassionately as the jagged edges of pink flesh disappeared behind a mummy wrapping of clean, white linen. The bites were so brutal they had to stich the thigh muscle back together. Graham wondered why Forrest wasn't out on medical leave. He had seen enough football and combat injuries to know that a wound like that would require physical therapy and the muscle still might never regain full strength. Instead, Forrest was healing at an unnaturally accelerated rate.
"We need to harness their power. Our advanced weaponry gives us an advantage against these monsters, but it's not enough." Finn was peering into the flat mirror bolted onto the wall over a long trough of sinks. The bridge of his nose was bandaged and both his eyes were blackened. He opened his mouth, frowning fiercely at the large gape were his upper lateral and central incisors used to be. It would be several weeks before a surgery for dental implants could be scheduled. Until then, Finn had to survive a plethora of backwater hick comments.
"I don't think those scientists have any idea what they're doing," sneered Forrest. Graham cocked a brow. For weeks the man's temperament had been unstable, but to make such a seditious comment where anyone could hear it was bordering on irrational.
"Careful, Forrest," Finn warned.
"What could they possibly want with that blonde bitch and the disgusting abomination in her belly? It needs to be eliminated before it can claw its way out. Kill it with fire to be sure." Forrest slammed his fist into his locker, denting the thin metal. Graham straightened from his slouched seat on the bench and Finn turned around to face the room.
"Patel thinks we can harness the power of regeneration," Finn stated calmly. "If we can figure out how the vampires heal so quickly I wouldn't have to worry about getting fake teeth planted in my head and your wound would be gone without even a scar to remember it by." Graham watched as Forrest's bandaged thigh disappeared under his olive green combat pants.
All we have to do is experiment on and torture innocent creatures to unlock their secrets. Graham turned away, lacing up his boots. His tour was up in six months, but if he claimed psychological distress he could opt out sooner with a full benefits package. Because of the specialized nature of the Initiative's work, he wouldn't be denied his claim. They anticipated some soldiers not being able to handle the truth of the supernatural world around them and didn't want the additional attention that would be brought to them by soldiers fighting for benefits.
The idea of being discharged under an ODPMC angered him. At one time Graham had thought of himself as career military. He'd joined the Army right after high school and imagined retiring as a general. Having never done anything else, he wasn't even sure if he knew how to survive without the order and regimentation the Army instilled into every aspect of his life. His undercover work as a TA on the college campus had been a revelation. It was chaos. So many choices, such variety, so much vitality. He was drawn to it. There was life outside the Army, but he had no idea where his niche would be.
"This is highly illegal."
"Yes, it is," Xander agreed. He lifted the heavy-duty wire cutters and started clipping through the chain link fence.
"It could result in us going to prison if we get caught." Anya scanned the area anxiously. It wasn't as if the power substation was tucked away in some little corner of town. It was right on the street.
"Probably."
"That would be very bad, Xander. I would have to learn to how to make a shiv out of hardened paper and that awful industrial cake soap that dries out your skin and threaten to 'cut' people." Anya gave the idea some thought. "Not that I wouldn't be any good at that, but I take skin care very seriously. I don't know anyone who would smuggle in my very expensive moisturizer in their anus if I were incarcerated."
Xander had no words to express his bemusement, but he had to admit she had very lovely skin that begged to be caressed. He tugged the fence open to let her pass through. Once she was safely on the other side, he followed.
"And you!"
"What about me?" he asked cautiously, uncertain if he wanted to hear what she had to say.
"You're too pretty to go to prison."
"Uh. Thanks."
"You'd end up being someone's bitch."
Feeling like cat burglars, they snuck over to a large gray box. Xander could almost imagine the Pink Panther theme music in his head.
"That sounds bad." Xander clipped the padlock off and opened the panel.
"I'd think so. You'd be owned by some man by the name of Snake or Two Dog…or Fred."
Anya fished a piece of printer paper from the front pocket of her chic jeans and unfolded it.
"Fred doesn't sound bad." Xander couldn't hide his shudder of horror. Maybe it was time to switch up the movie night selection. No more R rated films. He anticipated a lot of Disney in his future.
"Of course, it's bad. He's large and hairy with poor hygiene."
She pointed to the item circled on the diagram and Xander looked for the corresponding distribution line in the circuit breaker.
"So you're saying that I'm not pretty enough to get a handsome guy?"
Xander glanced around nervously, certain that the po po would be popping out of the shadows at any moment.
Anya twitched her nose in consideration. "You have a certain boyish charm that is appealing. Perhaps you would attract the attention of a sex offender. They are usually charismatic and pay close attention to hygiene."
Xander forgot about the authorities and stared at his girlfriend in repulsion. She shrugged.
"You'd be amazed how many women called me to do vengeance on pedophiles that assaulted their children. Those men are very conscious of their appearance. Many prey on single mothers in order to have access to their children."
Xander stopped what he was doing to fully face her. He tilted his head to the side as if seeing her for the first time. Heat rushed to her cheeks, unused to his unwavering perusal.
"You did vengeance on pedophiles?"
"Yes. Pedophiles and rapists made up the majority of my victims. Of course, there was the occasional adulterer. But I did my best work on those perverts," she finished proudly.
Anya caught her breath when Xander leaned in, his face cut in hard lines of seriousness she rarely saw in the carefree man. He cupped his work-roughened fingertips around her jaw, subtly urging her forward to meet his lips. Their kiss was chaste, just the touch of their lips, but Anya had never felt something so incredible in all her eleven hundred years.
He pulled back, looking her in the eye. "I love you Anyanka Christina Emanuella Jenkins."
Her breath shuttered out of her. "I love you too, Alexander Lavelle Harris."
He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her glossy lower lip. "Tell me about your vengeances sometime?"
She nodded and he smiled while reaching for the lever that would cut power to the college campus.
She dialed the prepared number in her phone. "Are you sure?" she whispered as it rang, still frightened of the consequences.
"It's for Buffy."
She nodded, placing her hand over his. The conference call connected. "Now," she said into the phone. Together they flipped the switch that plunged the entire southwestern quadrant of the power grid into darkness.
"Can we do this?" Tara's voice wavered. She was quiet and steady, but her self-confidence had long since been shattered. Her relationship with Willow helped to clear the detritus in the bottom of her soul, built up by a lifetime of brutality at the hands of her family, but she was still unsure of herself most of the time. Tara couldn't imagine how she existed before Willow. Her lover made her feel powerful and beautiful for the first time in her life.
"Of course," Willow said brightly. She shooed Kitty Fantastico away from her laptop. Both the witches sat in front of the desk in their dorm room, staring at the cursor blinking on the laptop screen. Tara clutched the burner phone tightly in her sweaty palm.
Seeing her girlfriend's nervousness, Willow rubbed a comforting hand down Tara's arm. "Hey, it's going to be okay."
"I don't know," Tara hedged. "We only have thirty seconds. I don't think I can work under that kind of pressure. I'm not good at this."
"I am." The words were arrogant, but the look on Willow's face was far from insolent. She turned in her seat so she could face Tara fully. "I'm really powerful. So much so that I scare myself sometimes. But even with all my power, I can't do this by myself. You're my rock, Tara. My foundation."
"Your rock. How sexy," Tara replied derisively.
Willow leaned forward until their brows touched. She stared into Tara's sky blue eyes, desperate for there to be no misunderstanding between them.
"It is sexy," Willow said seriously. "You're what keeps me grounded. Focused. You're my anchor, Tara. Without you I'd fly off this crazy ride and be lost. I can't find my way without you by my side. I have power, but you give me strength."
Willow pressed her lips to Tara's trembling ones. She tasted like honey and chamomile tea. She sank further into her girlfriend's welcoming softness. Tara made her feel connected to herself and the world around her, whereas before she had been isolated and rudderless. What use was power without direction? Fire needed to be nourished by earth, else it would sputter and die. If fire didn't clear old growth, the earth would slowly strangle on itself. There was a violent ravishment in the imagery, but there was also passion. Theirs wasn't a relationship of consumption, but of balance. Separately they could survive, but together they flourished.
The phone chimed, startling them apart. Without looking away from Willow's bottomless gaze, Tara flipped open the phone.
Tara nodded. Willow clasped Tara's hand and together they focused their combined power on the laptop before them. Their eyes glowed white at the edges as data flowed in impossibly rapid speeds across the screen.
"You know how to use that?" Spike nodded to the Benelli Giles clasped loosely, barrel down, in his arms.
They stood in the creeping edge of the forest, the deepening shadows hiding a glut of demons. Most were untrained, family demons that had little to do with Spike and his cadre of warriors he'd collected over the months. But these demons all had one thing in common: their hatred of the Initiative. Most had lost loved ones to the human plague sweeping through their community. Some held out hope that they'd find family members still alive on the inside. Others wanted revenge for the ones already lost to them.
"Certainly." Giles tightened his grip on the shotgun, refusing to glance at the vampire. He watched the busy compound lit with tall, exterior lights. The soldiers moved inside the gated area, unaware of the seething hatred directed at them from the shadows.
"Will you use it?" Spike's words were insidious threads weaving their way around Giles' heart.
"If I have to," Giles replied curtly.
"Slayer won't like that."
They were quiet for long moments. There was no sound in the forest. Even the wildlife had hidden themselves away.
"I won't tell if you won't." Giles still refused to look at the vampire, but Spike heard the underlying knowledge. Though he hadn't said the words aloud, the watcher knew he was chipless.
Spike cut his eyes to the impassive man. Did this mean that Giles didn't think of him as a threat? He felt hope kindle in his heart. If this man, raised on Council drivel from birth, could accept him, then mayhap there was hope that Buffy would as well.
They stood together in a moment of solidarity. All that mattered was the protection and welfare of family. Ethics could be parsed out later.
Dekker flipped the phone closed and nodded to Spike. The compound was doused in darkness as the exterior lights went out.
The demons swarmed over the fence, taking out the guards before they even realized they were under attack. The small group headed for the double doors, forcing them open with the Jaws of Life hydraulic tool liberated earlier from a fire truck. They slipped in quickly, careful to reset the doors before the power came on so not to trip the security sensors. The rest of the demon army secured the perimeter, waiting for the telepathic call confirming the power was permanently down and they could enter the facility to begin their rescue.
Spike studied the bundle of cables that were bracketed to the ceiling of the long tunnel that angled at a gradual grade into the earth. He identified a reinforced steel cable, pointing it out to Giles.
"Red says if we follow that one, it will take us to the generators."
Overhead lights flickered on with a hum.
"Generators are up."
Spike nodded. The track was empty of guards, but he knew once they entered the main area the soldiers would be swarming around like aggravated bees. Nothing like a little power outage to make the soldier types get their knickers in a bunch.
Red had mapped a path of least resistance for them, hoping that if they could avoid the soldiers, they could turn the power off before the Initiative could prepare themselves. Then while the power was off, the demons would swarm down the tunnel to attack. Hopefully, the imprisoned demons would do what came naturally to them when their cages opened and the soldiers would be too busy to notice an attack from the rear until it was too late.
They ran into two guards and a white-coated scientist on their way to generator room. They were quickly dispatched, their bodies hidden. Spike had worried about the cameras, but Red assured him that the initial power outage would give her the window of opportunity she needed to hijack their security system.
The generator room was unguarded. It was foolish, Spike thought, but maybe it meant that the wankers had no idea they were under attack yet. More than likely they were trying to contact the power company to find out if there was an outage in the area. If Red was doing her job, all they would be getting was dead air.
The room hummed with energy. Large green boxes lined the back wall. Even though the generators were massive, Spike knew their energy output was minimal for the base's needs. They were producing just enough power to keep the Initiative's containment in place and any pertinent electronics or refrigeration.
A large red demon stepped past Spike and approached the generators. His thick, blackened tongue slicked over his lips hungrily.
"Haven't had a meal like this in a long time."
The cadre stepped back as the demon laid his hands on one of the boxes. Blue arcs of electricity wrapped around his arms like snakes, snapping around his shoulders and disappearing into his mouth. The lights above them flickered.
Spike looked up. "Someone's going to notice that."
"Yeah," Dekker agreed. They moved to the doorway to ambush anyone who came to investigate.
It only took the demon a few moments to suck all the energy from the generators. He slid to the ground, his large belly near bursting.
"Can you get yourself out?" Spike's yellow eyes pierced the dark.
The demon grunted and Spike nodded.
They could hear screams and gunfire in the distance as the demons swarmed out of the cages. The cadre shifted, eager to join the fray.
"Now to get Buffy," he promised grimly. The others followed him into the chaos.
Sirens wailed loudly in the underground facility. Men shouted, monsters howled. Gunshots ricocheted off the metal walls and electricity arced through the air. The only light came from the battery-operated lamps bracketed as a security measure along the walls, casting the facility in an eerie red light. Graham fought his way through the darkened battlefield. Demons, half-mad from the torments visited on them, flung themselves on any humans they came across, forcing Graham to protect himself with lethal force. Across the compound he could see an infusion of fresh demons pour in through the monorail tunnel. They were under attack. Finally, the war he'd asked for. The thought of it made him sick.
Orders were being shouted through his headset. The superiors had given up on containment and were calling for complete extermination. Graham dropped his headset onto the ground, grinding it under his heel. He headed to the containment units where the female demons were kept.
She hadn't even tried to escape. She was huddled in the corner of her cell, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as the battle raged outside. The pale blue medical scrubs she wore clashed horribly with the coral hue of her hair and were two sizes too big, but Graham still thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.
She flinched away, whimpering when he crouched down in front of her.
"Hey. Remember me?" The sounds of screams nearly drowned out his soft words and he canted closer so she could hear him. Her lamplight eyes flashed from behind skeins of oily hair.
"I'm not here to hurt you, I promise." Afraid of her response, he didn't dare touch her. She was so terrified that any contact was guaranteed to send her into a panic.
"What do you want?" she asked shakily.
He took a moment to study her delicate features while he considered her question. He wanted so many things. Things that had never occurred to him before he'd met her. She'd changed his life and he didn't even know her name.
"I'm going to get you out of here," he informed her defiantly. Treason was something he never thought himself capable of. It wasn't in his nature. He was the embodiment of loyalty. Not for the first time, he considered that maybe he was loyal to the wrong cause. To the wrong people. What would loyalty to this beautiful, inhuman creature be like?
She eyed him distrustfully. The gas-lamp blue of her eyes flared white at the edges, and he lost his breath. She was magnificent. Pure magic. A fairytale he never knew existed. Swallowing, he held out his palm, leaving her with the choice to take the help he offered.
It seemed like an eternity before she slipped her small hand into his. He rose from his crouch, pulling her up with him. Without a word he led her out of the cell, and through the twisted corridors.
They were almost to the emergency stairs when Graham hit the floor with a thud, all the air hissing from his lungs. Forrest was straddling him, his teeth flashing blindingly white against his dark face. The wide, cartoonish grin made Forrest look maniacal. Graham could remember a time when they had been friends, but that man had long since disappeared.
Forrest had him pinned by his shoulders, his knees planted on either side of his hips. Graham had his hands on the bends of Forrest's elbows, trying to break his hold, but the man was unnaturally strong. It was another reminder that something just wasn't right with his comrade.
"Going somewhere with my demon, Miller?"
Graham's ice blue eyes narrowed. The rage he'd been struggling with for weeks settled heavily in his stomach.
"She's not yours," Graham snarled.
The grin on Forrest's face could only be described as evil. He leaned close, sadistic delight shining in his eyes as he spoke. Despite his struggles, Graham couldn't stop Forrest from sliding his large hands up to encircle throat.
"Oh, she's mine, cowboy. I marked her up good with my brand of nasty. She'll never forget about me."
Deciding on the path of least resistance, Graham brutally jammed his thumb into the bite wound in Forrest's thigh. The man reared back with a pained howl and Graham quickly flipped him onto the floor. In survivor mode, Graham sank deep into his training. Forrest was nothing more than a hostile that needed to be neutralized. Still kneeling on the smooth metal floor, Graham gripped Forrest's arm and twisted. The cracking of bone was muted by soft, wet flesh.
Rendered helpless, Forrest was an easy target. Graham let the rage overtake him as he slammed his fist repeatedly into the man's face. The only sound that penetrated his haze was the hollow sound of flesh on flesh. Graham felt it when his knuckles shattered on bone, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He wanted this man dead. Wanted him to pay.
Coral and baby blue caught his eye. His eyes cut to the side and found himself caught in the deep well of the demoness' gaze. She was hunched against the emergency exit, her pale face carefully blank. Her hand was wrapped around the knob as if she had tried to escape, but Graham knew the door was locked. She wasn't sobbing in fear, nor was she viciously cheering on his brutality. She was just waiting. It wasn't until she submissively dropped her eyes that he realized she was waiting for him to turn his viciousness on her. With nowhere to run, all she could do was pray that she wouldn't be his next victim.
Graham held Forrest partially off the floor with a fist wrapped in his fatigues. He dropped him like he was hot coal, and the unconscious man flopped back with a soft thud. When he wiped his forearm across his face, it came back smeared with blood.
He looked down at the ruin that used to be his friend and felt sick. This awful, hateful place had destroyed them all in one way or another. He swallowed down his bile and inched closer to the woman. She curled into a ball, trying to protect her vulnerable sides.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, uncertain if she could hear him over the din of battle. "Please, don't be afraid."
She didn't reply, didn't look at him-didn't acknowledge him in any form. Regret wrapped around his chest like a noose. Not just for his immediate actions, but for a long string of choices that led him to that moment. He wished he had never heard of the Initiative and all the horrors that came with it. The only thing he didn't regret, despite all the despair their meeting was immersed in, was experiencing the fairytale magic that was her.
"I need you to shift to the side so I can open the door." He didn't dare touch her. She glanced at him then. Just a flash of her extraordinary eyes, then they were hidden again. Slowly she crept away from the door.
The roar of battle behind them grew louder and Graham couldn't take the time to reassure her. He pulled the handheld acetylene torch from his utility belt.
"Don't look," he warned.
Quickly and efficiently he melted the steel bolt that locked the door. She was watching him when he turned to her. Silently he held out his hand, wondering what he'd do if she refused.
For the second time that night she took his hand, and a fraction of the heavy weight crushing his chest lifted. He wrapped his rough, blunt fingers around her slender ones and pulled her into the stairwell that led to an emergency exit in a copse of woods behind the fraternity. There was no power, but the electronic keypad controlling the exit doors had its own independent source that he was able to hotwire. The doors slid open and the cool night air rushed in.
The demoness stepped up beside him and inhaled her first breath of fresh air in weeks. She raised her face to the sky and the moonlight played over her delicate, elfin features. Graham's own breath caught his chest as he watched.
"Where to?" Graham asked softly.
Her blue eyes were very dark as she turned to him. As she stared him, he felt himself being weighed and measured. When she pulled her hand from his, he knew he had been found lacking.
"I can find my way from here."
"But-"
"Thank you." The lines of her body shimmered, her demon face blurring for a moment, before returning to clarity. White-blonde hair fell around her shoulders. Her unnaturally pale, smooth skin turned to peaches and cream. Her lamplight eyes dimmed, and her rose-tinted scales disappeared. She was no less beautiful in her human form than her demon, but he found that he preferred her true face to this manufactured lie.
"I will never forget your kindness," she whispered before gliding into the shadows.
Emotion choked him. He wanted to call out to her to wait, wanted to follow wherever she led. As she disappeared from sight, mostly he thought that he wanted to know her name.