TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn #22 "Awakening."
AUTHOR:
Nmissi
PART:22
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one.
Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it's going.
Feedback:
Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
Hunger. The first thing he knew was
the hunger, the blinding thirst that obliterated all before it. As
consciousness returned, he became aware of other sensations; the cold weight of
metal at his wrists and on his ankles, feel of silk against his skin. His
hearing was acute; the scratching sound of the sheets as he moved his hands on
them was so loud as to be painful. And there were beating, throbbing sounds coming
from somewhere far off, that sharpened the hunger. The smell of something
luscious, warm and wonderful… His mouth was cotton dry, as he wanted.
Where was he?
The last thing he remembered…
"Just sign here, and here, and
here….And welcome to the firm, Lindsay. You're going to have a real future with
us…"
Holland's face, warm and welcoming.
Souls were overrated, anyway, right? It's not like he'd need his for anything.
Then it started…a trickle at first,
but soon it became a rushing flood. Memories of his work at Wolfram and Hart,
of working his way up the ranks.
Body parts dissolved in acid. Limbs,
heads…Ritual sacrifices, blood sacrifice, blood with power.
Infants,
children, frightened young girls.
Blood on his hands, while there'd been two of them.
There was something worse to lose
than a hand. But it might be even worse to get it back.
His soul was heavy with the evil of
his actions, and Lindsay began to weep brokenly in the bed.
"Angel, are you even LISTENING to a
word I've said?"
Cordy's face was lined with
frustration, and lack of sleep. She'd been going over figures with Angel for
the last ten minutes, but he wasn't paying much attention to her.
"Sorry, Delia. What were you
saying?"
She sighed.
"Look, I know you're all wiggy what
with the whole Buffy-Spike thing. I mean, I know- Gross. But its not like it
was really any big surprise, was it?"
Huh?
" I mean, he's gotta remind her of
you. And you were her first love. And you knew he was working with them, right?
Giles told you. So it shouldn't have come as any big shock."
"Cordelia, this is not about Buffy.
I'm just stressed from the whole situation. I'm worried about Gunn, I'm worried
about what happened at Caritas. Have you two had any luck digging up
information there?"
Wesley spoke up.
"Actually there's very little to go
on, Angel. None of our contacts have been able to locate the proprietor. My
assumption is that he's gone underground until some of this is cleared up."
Angel's eyes glimpsed the clock. It
could happen any time now. He'd have to get the humans out of here.
"Wesley, why don't you go by Merl's,
see if he's heard anything."
That little shit knew everybody's
business, he reflected.
"And you, Delia…go get a manicure.
My treat. Your nails are a mess."
She looked down at her hands, in
shame.
"I know. I just can't seem to keep
the polish on them these days. I just don't have time-"
"MAKE the time. You always seem to
feel better when you look better. So go on, take a couple of hours to get
yourself together."
He walked over to the desk, and
rummaged around for a slip of paper.
"Then, when you're done, go by here.
I've ordered something for Gunn. I'd appreciate it if you'd pick it up for me."
She nodded, taking the paper. Then
she grabbed her purse.
"I can take you by the manicurist,
if you'd like."
"That would be great, Wesley. I just
hope she can squeeze me in."
" You can call her from the car,
that should help."
Cordelia studied Angel carefully.
He'd been acting strangely all day. And now, he was overly eager to get them
out of the hotel. Something was fishy, here.
"Ready?"
She looked up at Wesley, then
glimpsed back at Angel. His body was taut, his smile forced. Oh, yeah-
Something was up, and it didn't look to be good.
She'd talk to Wes about it in the car.
"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."
He heated the blood, and checked the
temperature. Then he retrieved a wooden stake from the weapons cache. Taking
both items, he mounted the steps.
He could smell the fear, already.
But that wasn't too unusual- Many fledglings woke frightened, disoriented.
Sometimes the soul hadn't left yet, and the terror could be paralyzing. In that
first early fear, the newborn was like an animal, devoid of intellect or
reason, its actions purely instinctual.
It needed blood to think, the demon
did. Until the blood flowed, until the feeding, the demon would be thoughtless,
as the human soul still owned the brain.
But as he reached his door, he was
aware of something off. Inside, he could hear weeping, human weeping. Lindsay
was awake. But he was already thinking. Something was definitely wrong.
He opened the door on his child.
This was definitely odd.
The
starving new demon should be enraged and hungry, not sobbing. Even if it were
terrified, that terror should manifest itself in aggression and violence. The
new demon should be struggling against his bonds, not lying amongst them in a
broken heap.
The newborn raised its head to regard its Sire.
"Angel?"
It was Lindsay before him, Lindsay in his bed. But it was
not Lindsay as he'd known him. It was not like any vampire he had ever made.
The tortured eyes told their own story.
Lindsay had a soul.