A Serendipitous Beginning
by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter Two
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All Beginnings Start With an Ending
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Seacouver, WA
Joe's Blues Bar
Same night
"Oh, come on, you've got to be shitting me—there's no fucking way he's still alive!" Richie said, shaking his head dramatically right after downing the last of his beer.
Javier Vachon just shrugged his shoulders coolly and tipped his head in that infuriatingly sexy way that Mike secretly believed the vampire developed hundreds of years before as a way to entice mortals into becoming his next meal. Even after all Mike and Vachon had been through, that one gesture not only caused her to squirm in her seat, but also tended to provoke a wide range of emotions beginning with feeling like a poor fly caught in a spider's web and ending with her wanting to whip out her sword and just kill herself and him and any other poor soul that got in her way.
As usual, she ended up responding just by shifting uncomfortably and ignoring the rush of heat that centered around her sex. She glanced at Richie as the Immortal poured another glass of beer from the fourth pitcher they had drunk that night. He then looked up and their eyes met and the unspoken question passed between the two: Is he bullshitting me, or not?
Mike just shrugged.
She really had no idea.
Even after all the blood sharing those two had done, Mike still only knew what the vampire wanted her to know. Who knows, maybe he was telling the truth.
Maybe.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"What do you think?"
The red-head Immortal shook his head as he scowled. "I think you're yanking my chain. I mean, Jim Morrison? That's like saying Elvis Presley really did get abducted by aliens!"
Mike eyebrows raised at that. "I never heard that. Are you serious? People actually believe that?"
Richie's eyebrows creased in irritation. "Where the hell have you been, Mike? Of course they've been saying that. Or they said that. Not anymore. Alien rumors have died down a lot in the past few years."
Mike couldn't help herself. She started giggling. It was quick, hard and uncontrollable. Remembering what she had been told by Alex Krycek, she couldn't help but wonder maybe that's why the aliens fled—pollution of the gene pool or something...
She felt Vachon's eyes on her and she glanced up, still shaking as low, chuckles rumbled out. A picture of an overweight, wasted Elvis Presley shot through her mind as he tried picking himself off the toilet stool to greet the visitors from outer space...
Another loud cackle escaped.
"Querido," Vachon admonished, desperately trying to keep his face expressionless. He was failing miserably.
"I'm sorry—" she then stopped, her laugh dying with her voice. Suddenly, it felt as if someone had ripped out a piece of her soul. She gasped loudly and shoved back her chair, tipping it over. Stumbling, she turned and ran to the restroom, not even acknowledging the woman she almost ran over or her two friends that were calling after her.
A heavy, black shroud of pain seemed to encompass her whole being as she leaned against the sink, steadying herself. Distantly, she realized that blue sparks were igniting around her, but she couldn't wrap her mind around it. All she felt was pain. And what she saw, broke her heart.
Though nothing was coherent—just a jumble of emotions and images that flashed quickly through her heart mind: Buffy —dead, Spike—devastated, Willow—dead, and Angel—Angelus.
And then she came back to herself—and promptly fainted.
~~~
Everything hurt.
This was so not right, Mike thought to herself, idly wondering where she was.
Her brain actually ached. Her body sang in discomfort. All her senses were off the scale and so eschewed, she had no idea what was where or who.
As she lay there, she realized she was hearing voices, whispering urgently in the background.
"I felt it, Joe. It was like a mini-Quickening. Why do you think I barged in there?" Richie said, his voice laced with worry and concern.
She heard the Watcher sigh. "Richie, what you're saying is impossible. At least I think it is."
"I felt something too," Vachon interjected. "Not a Quickening though—more like a shadow of a presence—a vampiric presence."
Is that why I can hear them now? she asked herself.
The watcher sighed and Mike heard him rub his face. She knew that gesture well—Joe always did that when he was tired—emotionally tired. "So, what was it, boys? A Quickening or a vampire?" As calm as Joe Dawson's voice sounded, Mike could actually feel the frantic thumping of his heart...
Calling her...
Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and began those mental exercises that Cassandra had taught her over five years before.
Then it hit her.
The link.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, wincing as her neck screamed in agony. What the fuck is going on here?
"Mike! You're up," Joe said, as he quickly came to her side and sat down beside her.
"At least I think I am," she said as she carefully turned her head to meet his eyes. "I need a phone."
"What happened?"
"Are you hurt?"
"Were you attacked?"
"I felt a Quickening?"
"Was it a vampire?"
Ignoring both Vachon and Richie, she repeated her request for the phone.
One appeared in front of her. Dialing from memory, she called her old phone number in Sunnydale and prayed that Spike was there.
She would know if he died, wouldn't she?
On the fourth ring, he answered. "What?"
She nearly jumped back at the loudness of his growl. His pain was nearly palatable through the phone. Hell, who needed a link? she asked herself.
"Will?" A thousands questions were on her lips, but the moment he heard her voice, the link, that for the most part, that had been dormant for over six years, opened completely.
She almost fell over from the pain.
"Are you alright? Is Buffy okay?" Stupid questions, but she had to hear it verbally from him. She had to know that she wasn't crazy and this wasn't a form of Immortal madness.
She almost wished it were.
no, i'm not alright—never be alright again... "Where are you, luv?"
She felt his soul scream. Gods, how can he even speak? "Seacouver."
"Can you catch the next flight down? Willow needs you." Finally, the tears that were flooding his heart and soul, came out in a huge, pain-wracking sob. "I need you."
You don't even have to ask...oh goddess, willow...buffy...where's angel?
Silence. Just deafening pain.
"I'll be right down."
hurry, luv...please hurry...
He hung up.
For nearly a minute, she sat there on the couch, hugging the receiver, wishing it were Spike as she felt his heart splinter into countless pieces. Each emotion was loud and encompassing: abandonment, helplessness, loneliness, anger, rage, hatred, and horror.
Someone pulled the phone out of her grasp causing her to jump in response. She glanced up to see Joe holding it, worry etched across his aging face.
"Buffy was killed tonight. I saw it—through Spike—" her throat closed and she coughed, trying to find her voice. "At the Bronze—and Willow—she needs us now," she finished as she glanced at Richie, hoping that he understood.
"Not that?"
"I saw a flash of Willow. She did die tonight." Mike frowned as she tried to figure out where Angel fit into this. A part of her wanted to ask Spike—but she didn't dare until she could hold him in her arms. A broken, rage-filled vampire was not something the rest of the gang needed in Sunnydale right now. The emotions flying around his sire were so intense: love, hate, and concern. "And something happened with Angel. Something bad."
"Dust?"
She carefully shook her head, still feeling that ache in her neck. "No, something else." She absently touched the tender spot on her neck and nearly jumped at the pain. Just ignore it for now she thought as she stood up and walked over to Vachon. "Can you fly me down there now?"
His eyebrows creased and Mike could tell he was trying to read her—tap into her emotions. "Fly?"
She nodded slowly.
"Mike, what's wrong with your neck?" Richie asked as he stepped up behind her and lifted her hair up. She heard a sharp intake of breath. "Holy shit—where did you get that bruise? From the sink? It should be gone by now!"
She brought her hands up in a defensive position. "Not now. We don't have time." Besides, how do I tell them that it's not my bruise—its Buffy's. And that somehow when Buffy died—I felt it physically. How do I tell them that this link included the Slayer? Or anyone else that Spike chooses to be intimate with? Or that if Spike was of sound mind right now, that he would know much more about Vachon than either vampire would ever care to?
She couldn't. It was too crazy.
So, she didn't.
"We need to go now. I'm okay and it will go away. Trust me," she said as she clasped Richie's hands into hers. "What I need from you, is for you to book a flight to Sunnydale. Right after you do that, I would like you to stop off at our hotel room and pick up some luggage that we won't be able to take with us. Just pay the extra to take it with you." She turned, still holding one of Richie's hands and silently begged the vampire. "So, will you?"
He nodded, carefully keeping the expression on his face neutral even though she could feel a whole host of emotions flying out from him. Damn vampires, she silently cursed. I don't even have any room for my own feelings...
"Good, then everything's set?"
Both of them nodded. Mike dropped Richie's hand and leaned over and gave Joe a small hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Sorry about this. Will you tell Mac when he gets in? Also, I'll call you and fill you in."
"Sure thing, Mike," he said as kissed her forehead. "Be careful. Sunnydale is—"
"Sunnydale," Mike finished for him. "I know and I will. Let's vamoose, peoples," Mike said as she took a deep breath, silently hoping her legs had the strength to actually walk somewhere. That, plus she felt her emotional control was iffy at best. She hoped that she could maintain what little hold she had on her feelings until her and Vachon were well on their way to Sunnydale.
Then she would collapse—when Vachon was already holding her tightly.
~~~
Unfortunately Vachon had too many questions to ask to keep his silence once they were alone. Although Mike had to give him credit where it was due; he didn't lay into her until they were in their hotel room. But the moment the hotel door closed, he suddenly had her in his arms, his grip unwavering, staring deeply into her eyes.
"Querido, speak to me. I know you're not telling me everything."
"Jav—"
"Don't Mike! I know that tone. That's the 'just trust me—I don't want to get into it' tone. Tough shit. Get into it or I'm not going anywhere," he said as he dropped his arms and nearly flew to the bed, flopping down dramatically—laying on it lengthwise.
Mike sighed loudly and did the only thing she could think of—lifted the hair off her neck—offering her blood as the explanation.
"No," he said adamantly. "Not now. Too much weird shit's happening because of bloodlinks to add me and you into the mess."
"Shit, you're right," she said as she picked up her suitcase from the closet and set it on the corner of the dresser, balancing it precariously. "It's just that I don't know if I can right now. I've got so much swirling around inside of me. The link—it's open—it's wide open now. I can feel and hear everything that's going on with Spike right now. I'm also picking up some of your stuff—plus my own. I loved Buffy? How could I not?"
"That's what I don't understand." He got up off the bed and picked up his duffel bag.
"Oh come on, you can't tell me you didn't feel a bit of her in me everytime you drank from me? Especially after a Quickening? Remember that first Quickening? He was right here—and so was she—inside me. What happened tonight was she came back—that part of her that Spike gave her when he drank from her came back to me. And that, plus his pain. That's the only logical explanation."
She began to laugh. Logically. What a fucked up term to describe bloodlinks. She turned back to the dresser and began stuffing her clothes into the suitcase, ignoring the near dozen times it nearly fell. Once she cleaned out the dresser, she went into the bathroom and began gathering their bath items. Shampoo, creme rinse, toothbrushes and toothpaste. Once her hands were full, she dumped those items into the suitcase and then quickly zipped it up.
After that, she picked up her backpack and silently thanked herself for not unpacking it and tossed it onto the bed. Vachon's duffel bag soon followed and finally he joined her on the bed among all their luggage. "Aren't you glad we didn't have a chance to really unpack?" she asked him as she turned on her side.
He nodded. "I guess I should call LaCroix and tell him, shouldn't I?"
"Yeah, you should."
Minutes later he was off the phone and staring at her. "Mike, bloodlinks aren't supposed to be like this, you know? I've never had heard of anything so convoluted as you and Spike's link."
"I know. It's the demon-vamp—Immortal thing. I'm surprised no one else has ever really investigated it. It's gotta have happened before us—obviously it did or you wouldn't be here. But I feel like we're constantly swimming in uncharted waters here. Everything that happens just becomes another piece of a puzzle that's never finished." She yawned loudly. "Gods, I'm tired. Are we going to be alright? Do you think we'll make it?"
"Yeah, it will be cutting it close though. It's early—not even ten yet. It should only take us six—maybe seven hours. Like I said, it'll be close. And I may end up needing to feed from you—at least once—if not more while we're up there. You do realize that?"
She grinned. "Yeah, so much for keeping our bloodlinks straight, eh?" A feeling of sadness hit her. She glanced over at Vachon and saw a flicker of pain cross his face. "I'm sorry—what a way to end this between us. I never wanted to hurt you, you know?"
"Querido, I know that. I knew that you would always be his first and then Methos' and finally me. It was enough—because you're not just a lover to me. You're my heart. The sex was incidental. I love you in a way that only another vampire could understand. Urs and I were lovers for years—but she was my childe first and foremost. And when we weren't lovers—she still was my childe. I don't know if I'll ever bring someone else across again—but you're my childe." A blood tear slid down his face. Mike caught it and brought it to her mouth. His pain for her. His love for her. Her control finally broke as a torrent of tears ran down her face.
He wrapped his arm around her shaking body and held her close to his chest. Mike hung onto him—his cool body giving her the strength not only to let go of him, but in the coming hours, be the strong one in Sunnydale. She prayed that he understood just how important he was to her—despite the changes that were going to occur with them.
He was her teacher, her trainer, her lover and her friend.
He was her sire.
And just knowing that he would always be there for her was enough to help her stand on her own.
She just hoped he knew that.
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to be continued in Chapter Three - Everything Changes Now