Title: Transmutations of a Soul (Part 2)
Author's Note: Part two of the ongoing series. Spike has just been gifted with a conscious and now he has to work for the rest of his soul. A mysterious and yet unnamed creature is helping him on his quest. This happens before Angel has an 'epiphany', before Buffy's mother dies, and before Dawn finds out that she is the 'key.'
Disclaimer: Simply put, they ain't mine, not the characters, not the shows, yada, yada, yada-alas, they never have been and never will be. They're that one guy's named Joss Whedon.
Spike walked out of Giles' house and nearly collapsed to his knees. He
let out a strangled sob and dropped on the grass outside the house, catching
himself with one hand. He managed to pick himself up, and half-walked, half-
staggered home.
Vision after vision of gruesome death flashed through his head. The
actual feeling of perverted pleasure as he thrust the railroad spike through his
victims' head and thus earning his name. Spike caught himself on the side of
the door to his crypt and practically fell through the entranceway. Tripping
over a few broken bottles, Spike fell face-down onto the hard, cold floor of the
crypt.
He didn't move, didn't bother to pick himself up off the floor. He sobbed
uncontrollably, all the while shocked at the difference. Before this, before
this cursed gift of a conscious, he had been salivating at the draining of an
unexpected human woman, silently coveting what could not be his. Now his throat
burned, he was sure bile would have risen if his digestive organs actually
worked. The thought of blood disgusted him; his conscious was raw, undiluted by
the wearing presence of recurring sin.
Spike staggered to his feet, going over to his chest where he kept several
items. He angrily hurled his small television of the wall and into a pillar.
The same one Riley had thrown him against and thrust the stake through his
heart.
He glared at it for a moment. "Bloody well should have finished the job!"
he shouted, to himself or no one in particular. Maniacally digging in the
chest, he cast items away, finally coming to a stake. Spike froze for a moment,
staring at the stake in his raised hand. It would be so easy to thrust the
stake through his heart, it would take no effort. Spike closed his eyes,
gripping the wooden item with all his strength.
"No," he said, his voice shaking, even in his own ears. He slammed his
palms angrily against the chest again, and resumed his searching. Finally, he
thought, as he pulled out what he had been searching for. Lighter fluid . . . .
When Spike had first got the dammed chip in his head, he had tried to think up
any type of indirect killing he could perform. Arson had been one of his more
creative ventures, but that, too, had failed. The mere intent of causing harm
gave him a wave of excruciating pain.
Spike grabbed each one of his liquor bottles and hurled them violently
against the walls in quick succession. He went into the bedroom he and Harmony
had shared and squeezed most of the foul-smelling liquid over the sheets and
covers. Spike threw the plastic bottle against the wall and dodged out of the
crypt, lighting a single match and dropping it on the threshold of the entrance.
Within moments the place was ablaze, giving rise to the vampire's intense fear
of fire as well as a morbid satisfaction.
"Fire is said to be cleansing," a soft, melodic voice said from behind
him. Spike whirled, gazing into the shadows where the woman emerged, the woman
from his dream.
"You," Spike said, have in despondent anger, half in entreaty. As the
woman walked forward, she fixed her eyes on the flames. Spike could see her
clearly. The same woman of violet-gold eyes, and amazing silvery-white hair
stood slightly to the side of him. Despite the odd coloration, Spike had no
sense of great age from her, She looked as young as he, but then there was a
deception there as well.
Finally she turned to Spike, gazing at him. "How does it feel to truly
comprehend evil?"
Spike took a moment to think, shutting his eyes. A part inside him ached,
as if he were aware that his soul was missing. "I know," he said very slowly,
with nearly clenched teeth. "That what I have done is evil and that I need to
atone." He looked at her carefully. "But I don't know where to start."
"I do," she said, looking from him, then to the fire. It went completely
out, leaving the two of them in darkness. A moment later she raised her hand,
and her palm was shining with a glowing silver light, very bright. Oddly, the
door to the crypt was closed again. She took a step forward and opened the door
with the hand that did not contain the glowing light.
Behind the door was darkness, but Spike followed her in guardedly. The
moment he was completely past the threshold, an entirely different scene awaited
him. The inside of the crypt was actually larger . . . no, this simply wasn't
the crypt.
"What?" Spike said, looking from the still open door and back to the dimly
lighted interior of the . . . meditation room? Spike felt a breeze through a
window that seemed to be on some type of cliff. Spike hurriedly went to the
open window and looked out. He saw a large sea, lighted by the presence of a
moon. Gazing up, he saw the bright, purplish-blue marble. It almost looked
like earth, and was much larger than earth's moon. Spike spun and nearly fell
down. That simple act felt odd; he took a step forward, but the movement felt
unbalanced off, it took far too much effort.
He finally met the woman's eyes. She touched what looked like a small
onyx imbedded into the wall, and the lights came on to full strength. Spike
looked around again, and found his original hypothesis had been correct; this
was a meditation room. Instead of candles were odd looking oil lamps, but with
some type of filter on the top of them. The wick was blackened slightly; they
had been used before. A circular stone tablet of deep sapphire blue lie in the
middle of the room. Spike found his gaze indescribably drawn to it. There at
first seemed to be a picture, then words, but finally he could see nothing.
"My name," the woman began. "Is Zalia Emèrai. I am an agent of the
Spirit Guard. This place is not on your world, or mine for that matter. This
is where you and I will train your mind and body."
"What do you mean, train?" Spike asked suspiciously, looking around.
Zalia Emèrai walked the exterior of the room. "This place is special,
Spike. Your mind is granted abilities you would have on no other world. In
time you will be able to do things that you would not imagine. It is merely the
outwardly expression of the mental condition. Here you will learn if you
possess any abilities that you may actually use in your world."
Spike gave her a look as he peered at one of the oil-lamps more closely.
"You mean like magic and all that?"
Zalia laughed, shaking her head, and gazing at him with violet eyes devoid
of any mockery. "Magic is but a pale substitute of the powers that can be
harnessed. It is a feeble attempt to ascertain gifts not given." She smiled
and turned; she stood in the center of the sapphire tablet. Abruptly it glowed
with light; Spike jumped as light flared into existence on each of the oil
lamps. He noticed that each flame was of a slightly different color, from a
deep, barely visible purple, to a dimly glowing red.
"Am I supposed to be able to do that?" Spike asked with some skepticism,
raising his eyebrows.
Zalia merely shook her head and stepped off the platform. "No, not for a
while. Not without some of the parts of your soul-otherwise you can't connect.
Come, I will show you something you will be able to better understand."
Zalia walked through the second door into a small room covered in a
thickly carpeted floor. Spike followed, trying to concentrate on the room and
its significance. There were weapons along the wall, weapons Spike knew and had
used, as well as several he had never seen before. He walked closer to the
wall, peering intently at what looked like a long lance. One end of the wooden
staff ended in a long piece of steel sharpened to a point, the other had a type
of thick, coarse webbing. He took it off the wall.
"Like that one, the corstavi?" Zalia asked, stepping up to him. She stood
at eye level, "however, if you wish to master this, you must impress me with
your other skills first."
"Master this?" Spike, feeling a combination of confusion and frustration
well up within him. He slammed the weapon back on the wall, not eliciting any
kind of response from her whatsoever. "Why would I? How does this help me?"
"You, you, you," Zalia said, a hint of carelessness in her voice, he paced
around the room, her hands behind her back. "You aren't getting it, Spike, not
everything's about you. I told you that you have to earn this. You have to
help people. That perhaps, in some way, you will understand their plight. Your
'heart' has the ability to learn, to change, and something will affect you. It
will take time."
"Why the hell am I doing this?" he asked her, kicking the wall fiercely.
"Do you know what this feels like?" Spike slammed his fist against the wall,
feeling his anger take over. "The Slayer," he hissed, feeling his anger deflate
as he slid down against the wall. "That's why, bloody hell," his voice rang of
defeat.
"You aren't ready for this," Zalia said, fixing him with an intense, if
somewhat surprised gaze. Her blue-violet eyes held a touch of sorrow. "Forgive
me."
A rush of wind blew past Spike, for a moment obscuring his vision. When
he blinked, he sat on the ground outside the blackened crypt. He stood up,
absent mindedly, and walked through the cemetery without paying the least
attention to his destination. A conscience, this conscience he had was
incredibly raw, more tender even that William's 'sensitive' blather about his
poetry. The past knowledge burned within him, tearing apart any kind of
coherence within him.
He slowed to a stop out of pure habit, stopping before Buffy's house in
the nighttime. With a growl of self-directed anger, he jogged away from the
house. Stay away from her, he said to himself. Disgust grew within him, as his
feet pounded the sidewalk in anger. There is nothing good within me, Spike
realized. And for the first time in his 'life' that actually bothered him.
Something caught the corner of his eye.
Two vampires were in the shadows of some trees surrounding a public
parking lot. For a moment, Spike was disoriented, he didn't know his location,
then he recognized the newly constructed high school. Looking across the
parking, Spike watched as two vampires watched Dawn and a group of her friends
from their hiding places in the shadows. The two vamps came up behind the small
group of giggling school girls, all were dressed for some kind of formal winter
dance.
Dawn finally turned toward the vamps approaching, her expression was a
near classic of terror and surprise. To the girl's credit, she actually managed
to grab her friends' arm and suggest that they wait inside for their rides.
"No, its too hot in there," a girl responded with a laugh. "Scared to be
alone in the dark?"
Dawn punctuated her friend's sickeningly ironic question with an ear-
shattering scream.
Spike winced as he left the shadows, not thinking about what he was doing.
He ran across the parking and tackled the nearest vampire to the ground. Spike
punched him once and staked the vamp without delay. The vampire exploded into a
cloud of dust as Spike leapt to his feet.
The vamp had already bit Dawn, but Spike staked him through the back,
killing him even as he drained the girl's blood. He caught Dawn as she fell,
checking her pulse as he slowly lowered her to the concrete. Spike took of his
duster and wadded it up, laying it under her head.
"Get an ambulance," Spike suggested tersely to the girls as they stood in
shock.
"uh, Lauren already went," one of the girls replied as another burst into
tears.
"Well, one of you go to say something about blood loss and the like,"
Spike said. When no one moved, he gave an exasperated wave of his hand, sending
two girls scurrying away.
Spike checked Dawn's pulse again, his fingers coming near the congealed
blood on her neck. He was shocked to feel a painfully acute desire to lick the
blood away from the helpless girls neck. A wave of revulsion directed at himself
quickly followed, giving witness to the conscious he had recently been gifted-or
cursed-with. He was surprised to feel something prickling at the back of his
mind, faintly, but it was there.
With a loud siren and flashing blue and red lights the ambulance slowed to
a stop several feet in front of Spike and Dawn. Two paramedics came out of the
back with a stretcher.
"What happened?" one asked quickly.
"I don't know," Spike answered, feigning ignorance. "I was walking along,
you know, saw the guys attacking a group of girls, thought I might help them
out."
"Out of the goodness of you heart," the other paramedic sneered. His
words had an unforeseen affect on Spike as something deep within him, not his
heart or his soul, however, clenched to the point of agony.
"Ignore him," the first paramedic said as they loaded Dawn into the
ambulance. "he's a cynic."
Spike climbed into the back of the ambulance with the paramedics. "The
guys ran away, but she fainted and I saw her bleeding out the neck," he said,
tapping his own neck.
The elder paramedic began speaking on his radio, and Spike noticed Dawn's
eyelids moving.
"What?" she whispered, pausing and taking the time to swallow painfully.
"what . . . happened?"
Spike leaned down, speaking very quietly. "its alright, luv, two vamps
tried to make a Happy Meal out of you and your pals," he paused for a moment.
"Tell the Slayer to watch her back," he cautioned with true concern in his
voice. "Now go to sleep, pet, I'll take care of you."
Spike stayed with Dawn, watching over her until he heard the loud and
angry tones of the Slayer demanding to know where her sister was. Spike smiled
briefly at the familiarity, then quickly stepped out of the room.
¤ ¤ ¤
Dawn shouldered her backpack, glad to be in school and out of the
hospital-away from her overprotective mother and sister-but at the same time
glad to be away from school. Now she could leave, maybe get some peace and
quiet. She quickly walked down the hall of the junior high, heading toward the
door when an accented voice called her name.
"Dawn, wait up!" the voice of the new psychology teacher as well as the
school's new counselor. Dawn reluctantly turned around. The new teacher was
cool, but Dawn wasn't in the mood to 'share'. "can I talk to you for a moment?"
she asked, leaning against the doorframe with one of those welcoming smiles.
Nearly dragging her feet, Dawn turned, making her way back and into the shrink's
office. She slumped down into one of the overly comfortable chairs and stared
at the woman across for her. "I'm not one of those people who likes to talk
about their emotions, I don't really think this whole scene is for me. I don't
think you can solve all my problems."
The psychologist leaned back, with a grin in her eyes as well as on her
lips. "So you appreciate the motto, 'you're seeing a psychologist, you should
get your head checked out?'"
Dawn nodded, smiling despite herself as the woman continued. "Let me let
you in on a little secret, Dawn. Don't believe the media. Most of the time
everything is misrepresented. I am not here to solve your problems. I am here
to help you solve your problems. I am merely a supplier of knowledge. You can
choose to do whatever you want with that knowledge, even if you do nothing.
Think of me as a person you can learn from, like any of your other teachers."
"That makes sense," Dawn replied. "When you look at it that way. So what
am I to learn today?"
"None knows you as well as you do, Dawn. Not even someone who is
allegedly physic or telepathic. You alone have lived inside yourself for
fifteen years. So, ultimately, somewhere inside you, you can find out how to
help yourself. I am an observer. I have observed that you are a troubled girl,
Dawn, and I would like to know why, so that I may help you."
Spike collapsed into a chair at Willie's bar. "Blood," he said curtly to
Willie. He felt a wave of sullen anger creep over him. This wasn't supposed to
be this bloody hard! He was supposed to want to do good. He didn't-not really-
all he knew was that he felt a sick, burning feeling somewhere deep inside of
him that sharpened to pain whenever he considered doing wrong. This wasn't
Spike-and it surely wasn't William, that spineless, pansy-ass author of
excruciatingly bad poetry.
On top of that was some of Zalia's teachings. What he learned now was the
basics of martial arts. Spike had found that while he knew how to fight and was
very good, that didn't take the place of years of discipline and training.
Although he had been in existence for over one hundred years, he still
didn't have the honed instincts of Zalia. She was human . . . of a sort, and
defeated him with ease. Spike would bet that she could take on two Slayers and
win. The focus, determine, and discipline of whatever order Zalia was in was
near to fanatical. Spike didn't have to breathe and he was exhausted by her
training regiment. She had curtly told him it was because he lacked character,
but Spike didn't understand the correlation. Something like he didn't
understand half the things that proceeded from Zalia's lips. They flew way over
Spike's head-several miles probably.
Spike's eye refocused as Willie set the glass of blood down in front of him. Just as Spike reached out to take the foul liquid, a large muscular arm
swept it away from the table and onto the floor with a muted and congealed
crash. Spike swiveled on his char, and turned in surprise and quick anger.
"Bloody-" he started to say, immediately cut off by the vampire slamming
him back into the bar. He pressed Spike against the bar with so much force that
he began to feel his back popping under the strain.
Intensely glad he didn't need to breathe, the pressure on Spike's neck
only served to pain him, although he had no desire to be paralyzed again. Spike
kicked the vampire swiftly in the shin, jammed his fingernail into the base of
the vamp's thumb, and jerked his hand away, sliding off the bar and onto the
floor in the process.
"What did I ever do to you?" Spike asked angrily-he quickly noted the
collection of various demons and vampires behind the lead vamp. "Whatever it
was, I'm sorry."
"Dusted some of my boys," the lead vampire said. "Protecting the Slayer's
sister, and warned her about our plan."
"Oh, that," Spike reflected uneasily. He paused. "Actually, I'm not
sorry, I was under obligation."
"What?" the vampire asked. "I don't care, we came to kill you-no, sorry-
beat you to death, then stake you."
"Isn't that redundant?" Spike asked as the vampire swung a large, ham-
fisted punch at him. Spike skipped back, kicking him swiftly and pulling out a
stake. He managed to dust the leader before someone hit him over the head with
a barstool. Spike dropped to his knees from the force of his blow, remembering
some of Zalia's basic lessons-never lose your weapon; it is the way to a swift
and untimely death.
Keeping a hold on the stake, he slammed it into a vampire's upper thigh,
causing nothing but extreme pain and a rather large distraction. Some of the
others hauled him to his feet, and Spike delivered another head butt, then
grabbed the slime demon by the throat, pulling him in close and grabbing his
other 'arm' securely, not an easy feat. Shoving the demon's head up, Spike
pushed him back, knocking the other demons out of the way. Once he was free he
push-kicked the demon back into the still-confused huddle, knocking a good
portion of them down. Spike grabbed a stool, broke off one of the legato use as
a club, then hurled the rest of the metal stool at the rapidly approaching
demons.
Spike knew he didn't have a prayer-there were simply too many of them.
Perhaps Zalia would . . . . Again he, was swiftly surrounded, but not before
staking third vampire and slamming the club firmly into the horn demon's face,
causing a thick, green-gray liquid to ooze from the wound.
The vampires grabbed him by the arms, pining them from behind. Spike
kicked out repeatedly at the vamps in front of him. \What good is getting a
conscience and getting recruited, only to die less than a week later?\ he asked
himself angrily. \Bloody hell, Zalia,\ he thought furiously, \You got me into
this.\ Immediately following that was an attack of his veracious conscience.
\No, you got yourself into this.\
One vampire kneed Spike in the gut, another bashed him over the head with
the remnants of a stool. Yet another occupied himself with stabbing Spike with
a stake in a near circular pattern around his heart. Spike heard his voice as
if he were an outside observer, but felt the pain of his throat made raw by his
screams. One particularly nasty demon tabbed him through the heart with a
knife, then slashed him across the face. Finally, the barrage of injuries
halted, and Spike lifted his head.
Spike closed his eyes, surrendering, then opened them again. "Well, stake
me already," Spike said through swollen lips. At that moment, Spike saw a dim
glow of silver light, then the three vamps burst into flame, lighting up the
room before they deteriorated into dust.
Spike collapsed to the floor, crying out even as he hit the hard surface.
Zalia stood in the doormat, dressed for once like someone from this world,
wearing loose khakis and a short sleeved shirt-she was dressed for a fight, or a
battle. In a smooth motion she pulled out a long, slightly curved sword.
"Get down," she spoke calmly to Willie who had just peeked his head over
the side of the bar. Obediently, he ducked back down.
Some of the less intelligent demons still stood, staring at the piles of
dust. Demons didn't like vampires, but they really didn't like people seemed to
be able to kill them at will and with ease. They turned toward the tall woman
who was already in a fighting stance.
"Well?" she demanded. "Why do you delay?"
Three demons charged her at once. One was swiftly decapitated, the next
gutted after she side-kicked him in the ribs. Spike watched her with
martialistic appreciation as he climbed to his feet. Wincing as he leaned over,
Spike picked up another bar stool and hurled it at one of the demons, it crashed
hard against his skull, stunning him.
"Oh, crap," Spike said a loud as the demon turned back toward him; he
quickly grabbed a bottled off the bar table and hurdled it at him with deadly
force. Four large shards remained imbedded in the demon's forehead. It
collapsed to the ground, dead.
Spike moved quickly behind a demon, performing a hammer fist blow to the
back of his head while shielding his right arm. When the demon moved, Spike
push-kicked him, sending him into the path of Zalia's descending sword blade.
Zalia killed the last demon, cutting him down directly in front of Spike. She
remained standing, perfectly still for a moment, her face unreadable. Then the
bodies disappeared, leaving pools of multi-colored blood behind.
Spike stared at the empty space in front of him. "Did you do that?" he
asked.
"No," she replied, her voice containing only a hint of weariness. Then
she knelt down, wiping the blade of the sword against the entrance mat. She re-
sheathed her sword, then walked out the door, saying nothing to Spike.
"What the-" Spike said, then ran after her, wincing as pain made him dizzy
for a moment. Zalia turned and stopped, looking grieved for a moment. The
harsh words instantly died on Spike's lips and he spoke more gently, but still
with anger. "Where are you going?" he paused. "Scratch that. Is this how its
going to be? I do something worthwhile and get nearly killed for your
troubles?"
"No," she replied, looking him in the eyes with a look of nearly rabid
intensity. "It will be much worse."
"Oh, great," Spike said, throwing up his hands, "so where were you when I
was getting the crap beat out of me?"
"You aren't dead," she noted, listlessly. "Well, actually, you are dead,
but not truly dead. You have not yet returned to dust."
"Swell," Spike said sarcastically. Then he peered more closely at her.
"Are you alright?" he was prompted to ask.
"No," she answered, twisting her arm over, a long shallow cut was visible,
as well as some gray liquid, demon's blood, smeared near it. "oh, that explains
it." Spike felt a certain nervousness as she raised her hand. A powerful light
shone out, and Spike could smell the stench of burning flesh.
"Oh, bloody hell, that's disgusting," Spike said. "and that's coming from
me." After a moment, the light stop, and Spike could just barely make out a
gentler hue as her wound closed up.
"What?" Spike asked, taking a step closer, looking quickly from her wound
to her face, then back again. "What was that? You can heal?"
She quickly drew away from him. "Not with any expediency," she said, her voice
regaining its former strength. Her violet-blue eyes poured into Spike's. "And
I can't heal you-there isn't enough of 'you' there yet."
Spike quickly forgot the former line of communication, "How will I know
when I've reached the next step?"
"You will feel it," Zalia said, with a hint of a bright smile. "We will
speak more tomorrow. You wanted to show me that local hangout . . . the
Bronze?"
"Yes," Spike said. "Vamps and other demons sometimes look for prey
there." He paused. "Plus they have the best little buffalo wings. You aren't
a vegetarian, are you?"
Zalia actually smiled, and shook her head, the silver-white braid shaking
back and forth. "Heavens, no." She shot him a sideways look.
"What?" Spike asked.
"Like a child, so easily amused," Zalia said, for once a hint of teasing
condensation in her voice.
"A child? I've been around for over a hundred years, little girl."
Zalia smirked. "Whatever, in your time I've been around for at least a thousand
years."
Interested, Spike turned to her, rotating his shoulder gingerly. "In our
time, what about in yours?"
"I am one hundred and twenty seven years old, as my people measure time.
Another two hundred to go.'
Spike halted, giving the woman his undivided attention. His nearly white
eyebrows went up. "You're mortal?"
"Of course," she replied, she gave him a quizzical stare. "Surprised?"
Buffy and Willow walked around the corner to the entrance to Willie's. As
they stepped over the threshold, a residual stench of demon blood was still
present. Buffy noted that Willie was carefully rearranging bottles on the
shelves as he shook his head. Buffy also noticed the dearth of customers. Even
after a big fight, there would be some demons hanging here.
Willie caught a look at Buffy out of the corner of his eye. "Just what I
need, a Slayer. What do you want?"
"What happened here?" Willow asked, ignoring Willie's mournful tone.
"Must have been some fight," she said after looking around for a moment.
"More like a massacre," Willie said, shaking her head. For once he seemed
glad to be sharing information. "Well. It seemed that Spike killed some vamps
that went after your sister, Slayer, he ticked a lot of people off."
"So, that was Spike, " Willow said. She turned to Buffy, so Dawn was
right.
"Maybe," Buffy answered, her brow furrowed in confusion. "But why, he
didn't stick around to brag about it like he normally does."
"Or ask for money," Willow reflected. "You were right, this is weird."
"Yeah," Willie interjected. "Anyway, he comes back here a couple days
later after dusting a few vamps and the boys gang up on him. They were out for
blood, or, in this case, dust, I suppose. They were really beating the crap out
of him, and this chick shows up." He paused a moment, shaking his head. "Weird
and beautiful. But, anyway, she'd got this huge sword and get this, torches all
the vamps in the room."
"Woah," Willow said, "how? Was she a witch?
"Maybe, but she was more of a fighter, and she didn't say anything, just
looked at them."
Buffy turned to Willow. "I thought spells were necessary, how powerful
does this make her?"
"I don't know, but you have to have a lot of focus and power to be able to
do that. Only a few can even do fire spells without saying at least, incendis,"
Willow looked worried. "I hope she's not too evil."
"Forget the magic for a moment," Willie said. "She could fight, too. A
few minutes later her and Spike cleared the rest of the room, mostly her. They
both got cut up a bit, but after she arrived, there was no contest."
"How many?" Buffy asked urgently.
"Just the two of them," Willie answered.
"How many demons?" Buffy clarified, exasperated. "and what did she look
like?"
"About twenty demons to start with, after she dusted the vamps, about
eleven left," he said, to the surprise of the two girls. "She was about Spike's
height, maybe six feet tall. Pretty muscular, darkish complexion, but with a
kind of golden hue. She wasn't human, or I don't know, maybe she was. Silvery
hair, and these amazing, purplish eyes-"
"That's enough," Buffy interrupted. "Before I throw up."
Buffy and Willow exited Willie's bar and headed over to the Bronze where
the rest of the Scoobies were hanging out. After a few moments of perplexed
silence, Willow turned to Buffy. "Okay, I don't understand this. Why would
Spike save Dawn's life, and why would he do it with those kind of consequences?"
"I don't know," Buffy said. She stopped, then turned to Willow. "He
wants something, probably, another way to be more annoying than he already is,
wow, didn't think that was possible." She paused for a moment, then her eyes
brightened with a thought. "How did he know Dawn was in trouble? What was he
doing near the school?"
"I don't know," Willow said doubtfully. "Maybe he was just walking
around? Or maybe . . . "
"Maybe he was following her," Buffy concluded grimly. She checked both
ways, then grabbed Willow's arm, quickly dragging her across the street.
"Whoa! Where are we going?" Willow asked, "the cemetery?"
"Spike's crypt," Buffy answered as the two quickly walked through the
darkened area. "I want some answers, and he'd better spill, too." The two
quickly walked through the cemetery, Buffy's mind whirling with the
possibilities. Finally the two came to the entrance to Spike's crypt, and Buffy
barged in, then quickly came to a stop.
"Wow, look at this place," Willow said, glancing around at the darkened
walls. She coughed, "It smells like it was burned-you think Spike was in here
when it happened?"
"I don't know," Buffy replied, "This looks pretty old, probably a week.
No, Willie said Spike and that girl came around last night."
"We should go tell Xander and Anya," Willow said, gazing around with some
trepidation. "Plus, this place is creepy."
"No, kidding," Buffy returned, then the two slowly turned, walking away.
There were no further interruptions on their walk to the Bronze beside one
vampire attack. Buffy swiftly staked him, then continued, without missing a
step.
Finally, they walked into the entrance to the Bronze, instantly assaulted
by loud music. Buffy felt her mood pick up a little, but then plummet when she
realized Riley would no longer be there for her to dance with. First Angel,
then Riley, Buffy let out a sigh. \Is anyone ever going to stay with me?\ she
asked herself. She stopped Xander and Anya sitting over on one of the low
couches and quickly crossed the room.
"Hey, guys," Buffy said as she flopped down on the couch across from them.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing much," Xander replied. "Find out anything interesting?"
"Sure," Willow put in brightly. "Spike's crypt was burned to the ground
and he got the crap beat out of him last night, and this demon woman with white
hair saved his life."
"Really?" Anya said with interest. "Did she look like that one?" she
asked, pointing across the room to a booth. Buffy turned and found herself
looking at Spike and a woman matching the description that Willie had given.
She looked human enough, but felt slightly off. She was probably a vampire, or
maybe some other kind of demon half-breed. She and Spike were in the middle of
an intense conversation, probably something Buffy could rudely interrupt. She
stood up, with Xander echoing her movements a moment later.
"I have a couple questions to ask them," Buffy said, nearly under her
breath. The girl associated with Spike, with a vampire, that meant evil, or at
least bad enough in Buffy's book. Buffy knew Spike was evil, or at least would
be if he were able. Buffy didn't want one of his old pals, like Drusilla
perhaps, back in Sunnydale for Buffy to deal with, and probably ultimately kill.
Buffy walked up to there table to hear the last words proceeding from
Spike's night. " . . . a knight, huh? I bloody well wouldn't have done it,
what does that amount too, giving up your entire family?"
"I'm sure this is a touching reunion," Buffy said melodramatically, "But I
just have to interrupt.
Spike appeared surprised as he quickly straitened, looking back over his
shoulder at the Buffy. A flash of something in his eyes passed too quickly for
Buffy to recognize, but she did see the long slash mark just beginning to heal.
It stretched from his left temple across his face and cut into his lips.
"What happened to you?" Xander asked, traditionally without tact.
"What does it look like?" Spike said with traditional deliberate sarcasm.
"Some demon got friendly with a knife." Almost as an afterthought, he turned to
his long-haired companion and gestured to Buffy. "By the way, this is the
Slayer, thought you might want to know."
"And why is that?" Buffy challenged. "Who are you?" she asked the woman.
"what are you? Some kind of warrior-mage of the Byzantium?" she asked
factiously.
The woman actually laughed out loud, then seemingly tried to control her
laughter. "I am no mage."
Buffy was surprised to see Spike look at her. "Huh," he commented. "That
wasn't magic, none of it?"
"No," the woman replied. "We don't use magic, it's forbidden."
"What do you call what you did to those vamps?" Buffy asked challengingly,
receiving another look from Spike.
"Pyrokinesis," she replied dryly, her blue-purple eyes calm. She appeared
to be studying Buffy.
"It doesn't matter what you call it, I want you out of here, and out of
town," Buffy said angrily, trying not to let out her pent up rage. "You too,
Spike, I won't have you stalking my sister."
Spike practically choked on his beverage, which, surprisingly, was not
blood. "What are you talking about?" he asked in a flat voice.
"Dawn, how else would you know that she was in trouble?"
"They're called eyes, Slayer," he said in the same, nearly flat tone. The hint
of insolence was strong behind his eyes. "We nearly all have them and I used
them."
"I don't care," Buffy said, grounding out each of the words. "I want you
both out of here." Buffy was surprised at the amount of anger she felt growing
in her. She grabbed the woman by the arm.
"Buffy, what are you doing?" Dawn asked from behind her shoulder. She
gazed at the woman sitting with Spike in surprise and recognition. "Ms. Emèrai,
I didn't think you hung out at the Bronze."
"Hello, Dawn," the woman replied to Buffy's shock. "I don't, Spike said I
should know about this place though. That it was a common hangout for certain .
. . types."
"Demons?" Dawn chirped helpfully. "yeah, you do know that Spike's a
vampire, don't you?"
The woman flicked her purple eyed stare over Spike with some amusement.
"I had been made aware, yes."
Buffy couldn't take this on top of everything else that was going on, her
mother's illness, Riley leaving-she was too stressed out. "Get out of town,
both of you."
Suddenly, the woman stood up, effortlessly breaking out of Buffy's hold.
She looked up to the ceiling, turning slightly.
"What is it?" Spike asked, training his powerful hearing upstairs.
"Demons, two of them," she said, moving quickly around the table-Spike
followed swiftly. Buffy trailed behind both of them as they took the stairs to
the overhead balcony. Two rather human like demons had somehow incapacitated
two young men, and were carrying them away. It was easy to see that they were
vampires.
Spike and the woman, Emèrai moved silently up behind them. Spike shoved
one into the balcony, then slugged him across the jaw, making him drop his
burden to the ground, he staked the vamp a second later. At the same time, the
woman swiftly snapped the other vamp's neck, leaving him twitching on the
ground. Spike tossed her his stake with the ease of familiarity, and she dusted
him like a pro.
"Oh, this is real funny, Abbot and Costello," Buffy said sarcastically.
"What are you trying to prove, that demons can come back from 'the dark side'?"
"I'm not a demon," the woman said flatly.
"I'm sorry," Xander said from behind Buffy. He looked decidedly unimpressed.
"Was that not politically correct enough for you?"
Buffy watched as Spike looked swiftly at the woman who appeared to be . .
. not quite angry, but disappointed.
"She isn't a demon," Spike said, almost as if he was indignant for her.
"not even close, Slayer. Try again."
"I don't trust you, Spike," Buffy said.
"What reason do I have to lie?" Spike almost shouted, throwing up his hands in
exasperation.
"Spike, let's get out of here," Emèrai said slowly. "This is just going
to be trouble." She started down the steps, with Spike actually following her.
Buffy felt confused, she had no idea what was going on, and she disliked that.
"If she's one of Dawn's teachers . . . "Xander said, looking worried.
"Don't you need to know what kind of demon she isn't?"
Buffy smiled grimly. "I pretty much know she isn't a vamp, but she could
be some kind of half breed. If we get a sample of her blood, do you think Giles
could do anything with it about finding out who she is?"
"Don't know it until we try it," Xander said with a note of determination
in his voice.
Buffy quickly followed the path Spike had left. While indiscernible to
normal humans, Buffy's Slayer sense could pick up on where the vampire had been.
After she exited the Bronze, she swiftly followed Spike with Xander in tow. She
found him fighting with a couple of vamps, and paused, waiting to see what would
happen.
The vamps actually had some kind of coordination, but Spike was skillfully
keeping both of them lined up and tripping over each other in their haste to get
to them. Buffy watched his technique and noticed his concentration. Normally,
Spike taunted the vampires or demons he was going to kill, but now, he just
seemed focused. At precisely the right moment, Spike lashed out with the
stake, killing one vampire. He front snap kicked the second, following it with
a sliding sidekick into a tree. He stake the second as smoothly as the first.
He stood there for a moment, his hands on his temples.
Buffy didn't waste a moment. She instantly walked up behind him, turned
him around; then slammed him into the tree. Spike cried out, but seemed to be
the worse for the ware for his fight. His eyes were slightly glazed, and he
looked to be in pain. Buffy didn't care-he had caused enough pain to deserve
some himself.
"Where did she go?" Buffy demanded.
"Who . . . ?" Spike asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"You know who, Spike," Xander said with his arms folded across his chest,
and a level stare. "The chick you were with, silvery white hair, purple eyes,
beautiful?"
Now Spike was staring at the Slayer, his concentration seemed to be back,
but he was still out of it. An odd emotion touched his bright blue eyes. "I'm
sorry, Slayer," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
"What?" Buffy asked, annoyed.
"I didn't know you felt that bad about your mother," he said, his tone
completely guileless.
Buffy didn't care-she hit him as hard as she could, directly in the solar
plexus. Spike cried out, dropping to his knees as Buffy followed that up with a
punch to his jaw. "Not funny, Spike, not even remotely," she said. She was
about to hit him again when a hand latched firmly on her wrist.
"Can't fight someone who can't fight back," the woman said sternly,
shoving Buffy to the ground harshly. Buffy swiftly rolled, coming to her feet.
"He's evil," Buffy said, "he doesn't count."
The woman stared at her, as if disgusted. "It's not about him, Slayer, it's
about you. You don't kill or beat the hell out of someone for your own sick
pleasure. That's what we call perverse and sadistic. It's not about their
moral standards, it's about yours."
"What do you know?" Buffy asked. "You hang with vampires, what's that say
about your moral standards?"
"It says only that you don't understand," she responded. Her eyes took on
a look of disbelief as the Slayer took out a knife. "What are you doing?"
"Since you won't tell me how to fight you, I am going to find out the hard
way. If you are a friend of Spike, that means you are my enemy."
Then the Slayer attacked, skipping forward with a roundhouse kick, then a
sliding hook kick, and a spin-sidekick. None of which landed. The woman dodged
nimbly out of the way and to the side. She finally kept in the same location as
the Slayer threw a swift, back leg roundhouse to her head. The woman countered
with a very fast and very hard spin-sidekick to the ribs that landed solidly.
Buffy flew backwards, falling into a backward roll and coming to her feet. She
caught the woman's front snap-kick, but not the roundhouse that was the second
of the salvo kick. That exploded firmly against the Slayer's temple, knocking
her to the ground, unconscious.
Zalia landed on her feet, shaking her head at the Slayer's unconscious
form. The girl could have done better, but she had underestimated her opponent,
a mistake as deadly as overestimating one's opponent. She turned to the girl's
male friend, Xander, who was staring in shock.
"Are you going to try and kill me?" Xander asked, almost calmly. It would
have fooled Zalia if she hadn't been able to empathetically perceive his
emotions.
"Decidedly not," Zalia responded. "Like we tried to tell you, I am
neither evil, nor a demon. Take her home-I didn't kick her that hard. Tell her
we will be gone by the next sunset."
Xander nodded, and picked up the Slayer, disappearing into the night.
Spike got to his feet, staring at Zalia with new respect. "Where are we going?"
he asked warily.
"I don't believe this!" Cordelia wailed out-loud as the demon dragged her
into the alleyway. "This is so not fair, I don't get a vision to save my own
life? Who will be the connection to The Powers That Be, then?" She fruitlessly
struggled, trying to grab the pocketknife deep inside her pocket. There! She
had it. She flicked open the largest blade and stabbed it into the demon's leg,
gouging downward.
It roared in agony, a sound so loud that even the dead could hear.
Cordelia stabbed him again as she saw two familiar figures round the corner as a
dead run. Wesley had some kind of short sword in his hand, and Gunn had a hefty
battleaxe. They both tore toward Cordelia and the demon at top speed. Cordelia
didn't wait for them to arrive, she stabbed the demon twice more until he
dropped her. By that time, Gunn and Wesley were on them.
The two shouted in unison, Wesley lunging forward and running the demon
through on the sword, and Gunn swinging down hard on the demon's neck with a
sickening crunch. It fell dead to the asphalt ground.
Cordelia crawled away from it on her hands, then got to her feet. "Are
you all right, Cordelia?' Wesley asked instantly, ever the polite one.
"Yeah, sure, fine," Cordelia said, still looking at the thing in horror.
"Not a bad piece of work, English," Gunn said with a wide smile. "not
bad. Will this thing stay dead if we just leave it?" he asked.
"Yes, the blood should not have any toxic or corrosive effect on the
surroundings. In fact, if I am correct about this particular breed, it should
decompose rapidly."
"How did you guys know to bring weapons with you?" Cordelia asked as they
headed back out of the alleyway together.
"Just comin' back from a used weapons store English found," Gunn said,
almost cheerfully.
"Yes," Wesley said; he held up his sword, now free of demon blood. "Can
you believe the quality of this blade?"
Cordelia frankly didn't care, but she smiled anyway. "Thanks for savin'
my life, guys."
"Anytime," Gunn said in reply, then trailed off as he saw the menagerie of
demons waiting for them.
"What on . . . ."Wesley began, staring at them. There were all sorts of
demons, vampires, slime demons, a couple of the species they had just killed,
some horned species that Cordelia had seen before, and a few she hadn't ever
seen before.
"How about now?" Cordelia asked. "Oh, no, we are so dead."
"Um . . . ." Wesley said, staring at the fifteen demons slowly moving
towards them.
"Run," Gunn finished, grabbing Cordelia's arm and running back the way they
came. The three hauled ass down the alleyway, coming around the edge and to a
side street that was barely used. Wesley skidded to a stop, and Gunn and
Cordelia nearly ran into them.
In front of them was an overturned junk car, looking as if someone had
burned it before. Behind the car stepped a tall, blond vampire with striking
blue eyes, that Cordelia had never wanted to see again. Even Wesley looked
perturbed, although he leveled his sword at the vampire.
"We don't want trouble, just let us pass," Wesley said swiftly. "There is
a horde of demons after us, and undoubtedly they will kill us all."
"I know," Spike said, but not in the same arrogant manner as was his
custom. "You killed their leader about six hours ago today, recall?"
"Their leader?" Gunn asked with skepticism.
"No time, if you don't wan to die," Spike said. He thrust a crossbow into
Wesley's hands, then pulled out a more impressive longbow with heavy, barbed
arrows. "Tag them, see if you can wound them. We'll take care of the rest."
"Who's we?" Gunn asked.
"Down!" Spike said sharply. Gunn and Cordelia fell behind the car as the
two each put an arrow to the string.
Cordelia noted that while Wesley's crossbow was much easier to aim and
fire, Spike's longbow did far more damage. Cordelia watched with some surprise
as he and Wesley picked off the vampires with ease. Suddenly, a scream sounded
through the air, causing her and Gunn to look behind them.
Some of the demons actually had brains, and had decided to ambush them
from the other side. Five or six of them had sneaked up behind them, but now
Cordelia winced as a vampire, shot through the arm with a fire arrow, lit up
with flame, and in a few moments, exploded into dust.
Gunn launched himself toward the first demon, swinging his battleaxe with
some accuracy. It cracked hard against the demon's skull, stunning him as Gunn
imbedded the blade into his forehead. Cordelia grabbed Wesley's sword after a
moment of hesitation and followed Gunn in. She managed to stab a demon already
wounded with an arrow; then, as he faltered, she brought the sword down in an
arc--beheading him. A vampire grabbed her by the back of the throat, and though
by no means proficient with the sword, Cordelia managed to reverse the blade,
and slam it upward and into his unbeating heart. He released his hold,
staggering backward. Cordelia pulled the weapon out, then swung it like a
baseball bat, decapitating it smoothly.
Cordelia turned to see Gunn fighting off the last demon. She stabbed it
through the back and he cut its throat with the edge of the blade. They turned,
almost in unison to see how Wesley and Spike were faring.
The former Watcher was down, unconscious, and bleeding as far as Cordelia
could see. Spike was, surprisingly, doing his best to keep the four remaining
demons off Wesley. He had totally vamped out and was fighting with a fierceness
that surprised her. Gunn and Cordelia rushed over to help, but stopped as the
four were quickly defeated in the next minute.
A figure came up behind one of the demons, running it through with a
broadsword, not the puny thing Cordelia had by comparison. It dropped
instantly. The new fighter, apparently the same one who had been using the fire
arrows, now engaged the slime demon with the battle axe. The fighter caught the
axe with a block of the sword, then the sword sliced on through it, lashing out
to slice across the demon's chest. It screeched against metal armor as the
fighter nimbly jumped back, avoiding the falling axe head. Spike performed a
jumping front snap kick, and the crunch from the demon's broken jaw and neck
resounded throughout the alley.
The fighter danced backwards, coming under the light of the street lamp.
Cordelia saw that she was female, with long, white hair bound back in a braid.
She tossed her sword underhandedly to Spike, who caught it and sliced off the
head of the demon, making in turn into some gelatinous ooze. She struck a
fighting stance, then launched herself at the taller, most likely stronger
demon.
She aimed low, striking at the knee and shin, avoiding all types of armor.
She performed a double roundhouse, spin hook kick combination that dazed him.
She jumped up with the same jumping front snap-kick, then followed with a
crescent kick, tornado crescent kick combination. As he fell to the side, Spike
drove the sword through an opening of the armor, skewering him like a shish-ki-
bob.
He straitened after a moment, then turned back, dropping to his knees by
Wesley. "He's out," Spike said seriously. "You'll probably need to call an
ambulance."
The woman knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his head and closing
her eyes. "The injury isn't too bad, but yes, he will need to go to a
hospital."
Cordelia was instantly on her guard again. "One thing Spike, what do you
want from us?"
Author's Note: Part two of the ongoing series. Spike has just been gifted with a conscious and now he has to work for the rest of his soul. A mysterious and yet unnamed creature is helping him on his quest. This happens before Angel has an 'epiphany', before Buffy's mother dies, and before Dawn finds out that she is the 'key.'
Disclaimer: Simply put, they ain't mine, not the characters, not the shows, yada, yada, yada-alas, they never have been and never will be. They're that one guy's named Joss Whedon.
Spike walked out of Giles' house and nearly collapsed to his knees. He
let out a strangled sob and dropped on the grass outside the house, catching
himself with one hand. He managed to pick himself up, and half-walked, half-
staggered home.
Vision after vision of gruesome death flashed through his head. The
actual feeling of perverted pleasure as he thrust the railroad spike through his
victims' head and thus earning his name. Spike caught himself on the side of
the door to his crypt and practically fell through the entranceway. Tripping
over a few broken bottles, Spike fell face-down onto the hard, cold floor of the
crypt.
He didn't move, didn't bother to pick himself up off the floor. He sobbed
uncontrollably, all the while shocked at the difference. Before this, before
this cursed gift of a conscious, he had been salivating at the draining of an
unexpected human woman, silently coveting what could not be his. Now his throat
burned, he was sure bile would have risen if his digestive organs actually
worked. The thought of blood disgusted him; his conscious was raw, undiluted by
the wearing presence of recurring sin.
Spike staggered to his feet, going over to his chest where he kept several
items. He angrily hurled his small television of the wall and into a pillar.
The same one Riley had thrown him against and thrust the stake through his
heart.
He glared at it for a moment. "Bloody well should have finished the job!"
he shouted, to himself or no one in particular. Maniacally digging in the
chest, he cast items away, finally coming to a stake. Spike froze for a moment,
staring at the stake in his raised hand. It would be so easy to thrust the
stake through his heart, it would take no effort. Spike closed his eyes,
gripping the wooden item with all his strength.
"No," he said, his voice shaking, even in his own ears. He slammed his
palms angrily against the chest again, and resumed his searching. Finally, he
thought, as he pulled out what he had been searching for. Lighter fluid . . . .
When Spike had first got the dammed chip in his head, he had tried to think up
any type of indirect killing he could perform. Arson had been one of his more
creative ventures, but that, too, had failed. The mere intent of causing harm
gave him a wave of excruciating pain.
Spike grabbed each one of his liquor bottles and hurled them violently
against the walls in quick succession. He went into the bedroom he and Harmony
had shared and squeezed most of the foul-smelling liquid over the sheets and
covers. Spike threw the plastic bottle against the wall and dodged out of the
crypt, lighting a single match and dropping it on the threshold of the entrance.
Within moments the place was ablaze, giving rise to the vampire's intense fear
of fire as well as a morbid satisfaction.
"Fire is said to be cleansing," a soft, melodic voice said from behind
him. Spike whirled, gazing into the shadows where the woman emerged, the woman
from his dream.
"You," Spike said, have in despondent anger, half in entreaty. As the
woman walked forward, she fixed her eyes on the flames. Spike could see her
clearly. The same woman of violet-gold eyes, and amazing silvery-white hair
stood slightly to the side of him. Despite the odd coloration, Spike had no
sense of great age from her, She looked as young as he, but then there was a
deception there as well.
Finally she turned to Spike, gazing at him. "How does it feel to truly
comprehend evil?"
Spike took a moment to think, shutting his eyes. A part inside him ached,
as if he were aware that his soul was missing. "I know," he said very slowly,
with nearly clenched teeth. "That what I have done is evil and that I need to
atone." He looked at her carefully. "But I don't know where to start."
"I do," she said, looking from him, then to the fire. It went completely
out, leaving the two of them in darkness. A moment later she raised her hand,
and her palm was shining with a glowing silver light, very bright. Oddly, the
door to the crypt was closed again. She took a step forward and opened the door
with the hand that did not contain the glowing light.
Behind the door was darkness, but Spike followed her in guardedly. The
moment he was completely past the threshold, an entirely different scene awaited
him. The inside of the crypt was actually larger . . . no, this simply wasn't
the crypt.
"What?" Spike said, looking from the still open door and back to the dimly
lighted interior of the . . . meditation room? Spike felt a breeze through a
window that seemed to be on some type of cliff. Spike hurriedly went to the
open window and looked out. He saw a large sea, lighted by the presence of a
moon. Gazing up, he saw the bright, purplish-blue marble. It almost looked
like earth, and was much larger than earth's moon. Spike spun and nearly fell
down. That simple act felt odd; he took a step forward, but the movement felt
unbalanced off, it took far too much effort.
He finally met the woman's eyes. She touched what looked like a small
onyx imbedded into the wall, and the lights came on to full strength. Spike
looked around again, and found his original hypothesis had been correct; this
was a meditation room. Instead of candles were odd looking oil lamps, but with
some type of filter on the top of them. The wick was blackened slightly; they
had been used before. A circular stone tablet of deep sapphire blue lie in the
middle of the room. Spike found his gaze indescribably drawn to it. There at
first seemed to be a picture, then words, but finally he could see nothing.
"My name," the woman began. "Is Zalia Emèrai. I am an agent of the
Spirit Guard. This place is not on your world, or mine for that matter. This
is where you and I will train your mind and body."
"What do you mean, train?" Spike asked suspiciously, looking around.
Zalia Emèrai walked the exterior of the room. "This place is special,
Spike. Your mind is granted abilities you would have on no other world. In
time you will be able to do things that you would not imagine. It is merely the
outwardly expression of the mental condition. Here you will learn if you
possess any abilities that you may actually use in your world."
Spike gave her a look as he peered at one of the oil-lamps more closely.
"You mean like magic and all that?"
Zalia laughed, shaking her head, and gazing at him with violet eyes devoid
of any mockery. "Magic is but a pale substitute of the powers that can be
harnessed. It is a feeble attempt to ascertain gifts not given." She smiled
and turned; she stood in the center of the sapphire tablet. Abruptly it glowed
with light; Spike jumped as light flared into existence on each of the oil
lamps. He noticed that each flame was of a slightly different color, from a
deep, barely visible purple, to a dimly glowing red.
"Am I supposed to be able to do that?" Spike asked with some skepticism,
raising his eyebrows.
Zalia merely shook her head and stepped off the platform. "No, not for a
while. Not without some of the parts of your soul-otherwise you can't connect.
Come, I will show you something you will be able to better understand."
Zalia walked through the second door into a small room covered in a
thickly carpeted floor. Spike followed, trying to concentrate on the room and
its significance. There were weapons along the wall, weapons Spike knew and had
used, as well as several he had never seen before. He walked closer to the
wall, peering intently at what looked like a long lance. One end of the wooden
staff ended in a long piece of steel sharpened to a point, the other had a type
of thick, coarse webbing. He took it off the wall.
"Like that one, the corstavi?" Zalia asked, stepping up to him. She stood
at eye level, "however, if you wish to master this, you must impress me with
your other skills first."
"Master this?" Spike, feeling a combination of confusion and frustration
well up within him. He slammed the weapon back on the wall, not eliciting any
kind of response from her whatsoever. "Why would I? How does this help me?"
"You, you, you," Zalia said, a hint of carelessness in her voice, he paced
around the room, her hands behind her back. "You aren't getting it, Spike, not
everything's about you. I told you that you have to earn this. You have to
help people. That perhaps, in some way, you will understand their plight. Your
'heart' has the ability to learn, to change, and something will affect you. It
will take time."
"Why the hell am I doing this?" he asked her, kicking the wall fiercely.
"Do you know what this feels like?" Spike slammed his fist against the wall,
feeling his anger take over. "The Slayer," he hissed, feeling his anger deflate
as he slid down against the wall. "That's why, bloody hell," his voice rang of
defeat.
"You aren't ready for this," Zalia said, fixing him with an intense, if
somewhat surprised gaze. Her blue-violet eyes held a touch of sorrow. "Forgive
me."
A rush of wind blew past Spike, for a moment obscuring his vision. When
he blinked, he sat on the ground outside the blackened crypt. He stood up,
absent mindedly, and walked through the cemetery without paying the least
attention to his destination. A conscience, this conscience he had was
incredibly raw, more tender even that William's 'sensitive' blather about his
poetry. The past knowledge burned within him, tearing apart any kind of
coherence within him.
He slowed to a stop out of pure habit, stopping before Buffy's house in
the nighttime. With a growl of self-directed anger, he jogged away from the
house. Stay away from her, he said to himself. Disgust grew within him, as his
feet pounded the sidewalk in anger. There is nothing good within me, Spike
realized. And for the first time in his 'life' that actually bothered him.
Something caught the corner of his eye.
Two vampires were in the shadows of some trees surrounding a public
parking lot. For a moment, Spike was disoriented, he didn't know his location,
then he recognized the newly constructed high school. Looking across the
parking, Spike watched as two vampires watched Dawn and a group of her friends
from their hiding places in the shadows. The two vamps came up behind the small
group of giggling school girls, all were dressed for some kind of formal winter
dance.
Dawn finally turned toward the vamps approaching, her expression was a
near classic of terror and surprise. To the girl's credit, she actually managed
to grab her friends' arm and suggest that they wait inside for their rides.
"No, its too hot in there," a girl responded with a laugh. "Scared to be
alone in the dark?"
Dawn punctuated her friend's sickeningly ironic question with an ear-
shattering scream.
Spike winced as he left the shadows, not thinking about what he was doing.
He ran across the parking and tackled the nearest vampire to the ground. Spike
punched him once and staked the vamp without delay. The vampire exploded into a
cloud of dust as Spike leapt to his feet.
The vamp had already bit Dawn, but Spike staked him through the back,
killing him even as he drained the girl's blood. He caught Dawn as she fell,
checking her pulse as he slowly lowered her to the concrete. Spike took of his
duster and wadded it up, laying it under her head.
"Get an ambulance," Spike suggested tersely to the girls as they stood in
shock.
"uh, Lauren already went," one of the girls replied as another burst into
tears.
"Well, one of you go to say something about blood loss and the like,"
Spike said. When no one moved, he gave an exasperated wave of his hand, sending
two girls scurrying away.
Spike checked Dawn's pulse again, his fingers coming near the congealed
blood on her neck. He was shocked to feel a painfully acute desire to lick the
blood away from the helpless girls neck. A wave of revulsion directed at himself
quickly followed, giving witness to the conscious he had recently been gifted-or
cursed-with. He was surprised to feel something prickling at the back of his
mind, faintly, but it was there.
With a loud siren and flashing blue and red lights the ambulance slowed to
a stop several feet in front of Spike and Dawn. Two paramedics came out of the
back with a stretcher.
"What happened?" one asked quickly.
"I don't know," Spike answered, feigning ignorance. "I was walking along,
you know, saw the guys attacking a group of girls, thought I might help them
out."
"Out of the goodness of you heart," the other paramedic sneered. His
words had an unforeseen affect on Spike as something deep within him, not his
heart or his soul, however, clenched to the point of agony.
"Ignore him," the first paramedic said as they loaded Dawn into the
ambulance. "he's a cynic."
Spike climbed into the back of the ambulance with the paramedics. "The
guys ran away, but she fainted and I saw her bleeding out the neck," he said,
tapping his own neck.
The elder paramedic began speaking on his radio, and Spike noticed Dawn's
eyelids moving.
"What?" she whispered, pausing and taking the time to swallow painfully.
"what . . . happened?"
Spike leaned down, speaking very quietly. "its alright, luv, two vamps
tried to make a Happy Meal out of you and your pals," he paused for a moment.
"Tell the Slayer to watch her back," he cautioned with true concern in his
voice. "Now go to sleep, pet, I'll take care of you."
Spike stayed with Dawn, watching over her until he heard the loud and
angry tones of the Slayer demanding to know where her sister was. Spike smiled
briefly at the familiarity, then quickly stepped out of the room.
¤ ¤ ¤
Dawn shouldered her backpack, glad to be in school and out of the
hospital-away from her overprotective mother and sister-but at the same time
glad to be away from school. Now she could leave, maybe get some peace and
quiet. She quickly walked down the hall of the junior high, heading toward the
door when an accented voice called her name.
"Dawn, wait up!" the voice of the new psychology teacher as well as the
school's new counselor. Dawn reluctantly turned around. The new teacher was
cool, but Dawn wasn't in the mood to 'share'. "can I talk to you for a moment?"
she asked, leaning against the doorframe with one of those welcoming smiles.
Nearly dragging her feet, Dawn turned, making her way back and into the shrink's
office. She slumped down into one of the overly comfortable chairs and stared
at the woman across for her. "I'm not one of those people who likes to talk
about their emotions, I don't really think this whole scene is for me. I don't
think you can solve all my problems."
The psychologist leaned back, with a grin in her eyes as well as on her
lips. "So you appreciate the motto, 'you're seeing a psychologist, you should
get your head checked out?'"
Dawn nodded, smiling despite herself as the woman continued. "Let me let
you in on a little secret, Dawn. Don't believe the media. Most of the time
everything is misrepresented. I am not here to solve your problems. I am here
to help you solve your problems. I am merely a supplier of knowledge. You can
choose to do whatever you want with that knowledge, even if you do nothing.
Think of me as a person you can learn from, like any of your other teachers."
"That makes sense," Dawn replied. "When you look at it that way. So what
am I to learn today?"
"None knows you as well as you do, Dawn. Not even someone who is
allegedly physic or telepathic. You alone have lived inside yourself for
fifteen years. So, ultimately, somewhere inside you, you can find out how to
help yourself. I am an observer. I have observed that you are a troubled girl,
Dawn, and I would like to know why, so that I may help you."
Spike collapsed into a chair at Willie's bar. "Blood," he said curtly to
Willie. He felt a wave of sullen anger creep over him. This wasn't supposed to
be this bloody hard! He was supposed to want to do good. He didn't-not really-
all he knew was that he felt a sick, burning feeling somewhere deep inside of
him that sharpened to pain whenever he considered doing wrong. This wasn't
Spike-and it surely wasn't William, that spineless, pansy-ass author of
excruciatingly bad poetry.
On top of that was some of Zalia's teachings. What he learned now was the
basics of martial arts. Spike had found that while he knew how to fight and was
very good, that didn't take the place of years of discipline and training.
Although he had been in existence for over one hundred years, he still
didn't have the honed instincts of Zalia. She was human . . . of a sort, and
defeated him with ease. Spike would bet that she could take on two Slayers and
win. The focus, determine, and discipline of whatever order Zalia was in was
near to fanatical. Spike didn't have to breathe and he was exhausted by her
training regiment. She had curtly told him it was because he lacked character,
but Spike didn't understand the correlation. Something like he didn't
understand half the things that proceeded from Zalia's lips. They flew way over
Spike's head-several miles probably.
Spike's eye refocused as Willie set the glass of blood down in front of him. Just as Spike reached out to take the foul liquid, a large muscular arm
swept it away from the table and onto the floor with a muted and congealed
crash. Spike swiveled on his char, and turned in surprise and quick anger.
"Bloody-" he started to say, immediately cut off by the vampire slamming
him back into the bar. He pressed Spike against the bar with so much force that
he began to feel his back popping under the strain.
Intensely glad he didn't need to breathe, the pressure on Spike's neck
only served to pain him, although he had no desire to be paralyzed again. Spike
kicked the vampire swiftly in the shin, jammed his fingernail into the base of
the vamp's thumb, and jerked his hand away, sliding off the bar and onto the
floor in the process.
"What did I ever do to you?" Spike asked angrily-he quickly noted the
collection of various demons and vampires behind the lead vamp. "Whatever it
was, I'm sorry."
"Dusted some of my boys," the lead vampire said. "Protecting the Slayer's
sister, and warned her about our plan."
"Oh, that," Spike reflected uneasily. He paused. "Actually, I'm not
sorry, I was under obligation."
"What?" the vampire asked. "I don't care, we came to kill you-no, sorry-
beat you to death, then stake you."
"Isn't that redundant?" Spike asked as the vampire swung a large, ham-
fisted punch at him. Spike skipped back, kicking him swiftly and pulling out a
stake. He managed to dust the leader before someone hit him over the head with
a barstool. Spike dropped to his knees from the force of his blow, remembering
some of Zalia's basic lessons-never lose your weapon; it is the way to a swift
and untimely death.
Keeping a hold on the stake, he slammed it into a vampire's upper thigh,
causing nothing but extreme pain and a rather large distraction. Some of the
others hauled him to his feet, and Spike delivered another head butt, then
grabbed the slime demon by the throat, pulling him in close and grabbing his
other 'arm' securely, not an easy feat. Shoving the demon's head up, Spike
pushed him back, knocking the other demons out of the way. Once he was free he
push-kicked the demon back into the still-confused huddle, knocking a good
portion of them down. Spike grabbed a stool, broke off one of the legato use as
a club, then hurled the rest of the metal stool at the rapidly approaching
demons.
Spike knew he didn't have a prayer-there were simply too many of them.
Perhaps Zalia would . . . . Again he, was swiftly surrounded, but not before
staking third vampire and slamming the club firmly into the horn demon's face,
causing a thick, green-gray liquid to ooze from the wound.
The vampires grabbed him by the arms, pining them from behind. Spike
kicked out repeatedly at the vamps in front of him. \What good is getting a
conscience and getting recruited, only to die less than a week later?\ he asked
himself angrily. \Bloody hell, Zalia,\ he thought furiously, \You got me into
this.\ Immediately following that was an attack of his veracious conscience.
\No, you got yourself into this.\
One vampire kneed Spike in the gut, another bashed him over the head with
the remnants of a stool. Yet another occupied himself with stabbing Spike with
a stake in a near circular pattern around his heart. Spike heard his voice as
if he were an outside observer, but felt the pain of his throat made raw by his
screams. One particularly nasty demon tabbed him through the heart with a
knife, then slashed him across the face. Finally, the barrage of injuries
halted, and Spike lifted his head.
Spike closed his eyes, surrendering, then opened them again. "Well, stake
me already," Spike said through swollen lips. At that moment, Spike saw a dim
glow of silver light, then the three vamps burst into flame, lighting up the
room before they deteriorated into dust.
Spike collapsed to the floor, crying out even as he hit the hard surface.
Zalia stood in the doormat, dressed for once like someone from this world,
wearing loose khakis and a short sleeved shirt-she was dressed for a fight, or a
battle. In a smooth motion she pulled out a long, slightly curved sword.
"Get down," she spoke calmly to Willie who had just peeked his head over
the side of the bar. Obediently, he ducked back down.
Some of the less intelligent demons still stood, staring at the piles of
dust. Demons didn't like vampires, but they really didn't like people seemed to
be able to kill them at will and with ease. They turned toward the tall woman
who was already in a fighting stance.
"Well?" she demanded. "Why do you delay?"
Three demons charged her at once. One was swiftly decapitated, the next
gutted after she side-kicked him in the ribs. Spike watched her with
martialistic appreciation as he climbed to his feet. Wincing as he leaned over,
Spike picked up another bar stool and hurled it at one of the demons, it crashed
hard against his skull, stunning him.
"Oh, crap," Spike said a loud as the demon turned back toward him; he
quickly grabbed a bottled off the bar table and hurdled it at him with deadly
force. Four large shards remained imbedded in the demon's forehead. It
collapsed to the ground, dead.
Spike moved quickly behind a demon, performing a hammer fist blow to the
back of his head while shielding his right arm. When the demon moved, Spike
push-kicked him, sending him into the path of Zalia's descending sword blade.
Zalia killed the last demon, cutting him down directly in front of Spike. She
remained standing, perfectly still for a moment, her face unreadable. Then the
bodies disappeared, leaving pools of multi-colored blood behind.
Spike stared at the empty space in front of him. "Did you do that?" he
asked.
"No," she replied, her voice containing only a hint of weariness. Then
she knelt down, wiping the blade of the sword against the entrance mat. She re-
sheathed her sword, then walked out the door, saying nothing to Spike.
"What the-" Spike said, then ran after her, wincing as pain made him dizzy
for a moment. Zalia turned and stopped, looking grieved for a moment. The
harsh words instantly died on Spike's lips and he spoke more gently, but still
with anger. "Where are you going?" he paused. "Scratch that. Is this how its
going to be? I do something worthwhile and get nearly killed for your
troubles?"
"No," she replied, looking him in the eyes with a look of nearly rabid
intensity. "It will be much worse."
"Oh, great," Spike said, throwing up his hands, "so where were you when I
was getting the crap beat out of me?"
"You aren't dead," she noted, listlessly. "Well, actually, you are dead,
but not truly dead. You have not yet returned to dust."
"Swell," Spike said sarcastically. Then he peered more closely at her.
"Are you alright?" he was prompted to ask.
"No," she answered, twisting her arm over, a long shallow cut was visible,
as well as some gray liquid, demon's blood, smeared near it. "oh, that explains
it." Spike felt a certain nervousness as she raised her hand. A powerful light
shone out, and Spike could smell the stench of burning flesh.
"Oh, bloody hell, that's disgusting," Spike said. "and that's coming from
me." After a moment, the light stop, and Spike could just barely make out a
gentler hue as her wound closed up.
"What?" Spike asked, taking a step closer, looking quickly from her wound
to her face, then back again. "What was that? You can heal?"
She quickly drew away from him. "Not with any expediency," she said, her voice
regaining its former strength. Her violet-blue eyes poured into Spike's. "And
I can't heal you-there isn't enough of 'you' there yet."
Spike quickly forgot the former line of communication, "How will I know
when I've reached the next step?"
"You will feel it," Zalia said, with a hint of a bright smile. "We will
speak more tomorrow. You wanted to show me that local hangout . . . the
Bronze?"
"Yes," Spike said. "Vamps and other demons sometimes look for prey
there." He paused. "Plus they have the best little buffalo wings. You aren't
a vegetarian, are you?"
Zalia actually smiled, and shook her head, the silver-white braid shaking
back and forth. "Heavens, no." She shot him a sideways look.
"What?" Spike asked.
"Like a child, so easily amused," Zalia said, for once a hint of teasing
condensation in her voice.
"A child? I've been around for over a hundred years, little girl."
Zalia smirked. "Whatever, in your time I've been around for at least a thousand
years."
Interested, Spike turned to her, rotating his shoulder gingerly. "In our
time, what about in yours?"
"I am one hundred and twenty seven years old, as my people measure time.
Another two hundred to go.'
Spike halted, giving the woman his undivided attention. His nearly white
eyebrows went up. "You're mortal?"
"Of course," she replied, she gave him a quizzical stare. "Surprised?"
Buffy and Willow walked around the corner to the entrance to Willie's. As
they stepped over the threshold, a residual stench of demon blood was still
present. Buffy noted that Willie was carefully rearranging bottles on the
shelves as he shook his head. Buffy also noticed the dearth of customers. Even
after a big fight, there would be some demons hanging here.
Willie caught a look at Buffy out of the corner of his eye. "Just what I
need, a Slayer. What do you want?"
"What happened here?" Willow asked, ignoring Willie's mournful tone.
"Must have been some fight," she said after looking around for a moment.
"More like a massacre," Willie said, shaking her head. For once he seemed
glad to be sharing information. "Well. It seemed that Spike killed some vamps
that went after your sister, Slayer, he ticked a lot of people off."
"So, that was Spike, " Willow said. She turned to Buffy, so Dawn was
right.
"Maybe," Buffy answered, her brow furrowed in confusion. "But why, he
didn't stick around to brag about it like he normally does."
"Or ask for money," Willow reflected. "You were right, this is weird."
"Yeah," Willie interjected. "Anyway, he comes back here a couple days
later after dusting a few vamps and the boys gang up on him. They were out for
blood, or, in this case, dust, I suppose. They were really beating the crap out
of him, and this chick shows up." He paused a moment, shaking his head. "Weird
and beautiful. But, anyway, she'd got this huge sword and get this, torches all
the vamps in the room."
"Woah," Willow said, "how? Was she a witch?
"Maybe, but she was more of a fighter, and she didn't say anything, just
looked at them."
Buffy turned to Willow. "I thought spells were necessary, how powerful
does this make her?"
"I don't know, but you have to have a lot of focus and power to be able to
do that. Only a few can even do fire spells without saying at least, incendis,"
Willow looked worried. "I hope she's not too evil."
"Forget the magic for a moment," Willie said. "She could fight, too. A
few minutes later her and Spike cleared the rest of the room, mostly her. They
both got cut up a bit, but after she arrived, there was no contest."
"How many?" Buffy asked urgently.
"Just the two of them," Willie answered.
"How many demons?" Buffy clarified, exasperated. "and what did she look
like?"
"About twenty demons to start with, after she dusted the vamps, about
eleven left," he said, to the surprise of the two girls. "She was about Spike's
height, maybe six feet tall. Pretty muscular, darkish complexion, but with a
kind of golden hue. She wasn't human, or I don't know, maybe she was. Silvery
hair, and these amazing, purplish eyes-"
"That's enough," Buffy interrupted. "Before I throw up."
Buffy and Willow exited Willie's bar and headed over to the Bronze where
the rest of the Scoobies were hanging out. After a few moments of perplexed
silence, Willow turned to Buffy. "Okay, I don't understand this. Why would
Spike save Dawn's life, and why would he do it with those kind of consequences?"
"I don't know," Buffy said. She stopped, then turned to Willow. "He
wants something, probably, another way to be more annoying than he already is,
wow, didn't think that was possible." She paused for a moment, then her eyes
brightened with a thought. "How did he know Dawn was in trouble? What was he
doing near the school?"
"I don't know," Willow said doubtfully. "Maybe he was just walking
around? Or maybe . . . "
"Maybe he was following her," Buffy concluded grimly. She checked both
ways, then grabbed Willow's arm, quickly dragging her across the street.
"Whoa! Where are we going?" Willow asked, "the cemetery?"
"Spike's crypt," Buffy answered as the two quickly walked through the
darkened area. "I want some answers, and he'd better spill, too." The two
quickly walked through the cemetery, Buffy's mind whirling with the
possibilities. Finally the two came to the entrance to Spike's crypt, and Buffy
barged in, then quickly came to a stop.
"Wow, look at this place," Willow said, glancing around at the darkened
walls. She coughed, "It smells like it was burned-you think Spike was in here
when it happened?"
"I don't know," Buffy replied, "This looks pretty old, probably a week.
No, Willie said Spike and that girl came around last night."
"We should go tell Xander and Anya," Willow said, gazing around with some
trepidation. "Plus, this place is creepy."
"No, kidding," Buffy returned, then the two slowly turned, walking away.
There were no further interruptions on their walk to the Bronze beside one
vampire attack. Buffy swiftly staked him, then continued, without missing a
step.
Finally, they walked into the entrance to the Bronze, instantly assaulted
by loud music. Buffy felt her mood pick up a little, but then plummet when she
realized Riley would no longer be there for her to dance with. First Angel,
then Riley, Buffy let out a sigh. \Is anyone ever going to stay with me?\ she
asked herself. She stopped Xander and Anya sitting over on one of the low
couches and quickly crossed the room.
"Hey, guys," Buffy said as she flopped down on the couch across from them.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing much," Xander replied. "Find out anything interesting?"
"Sure," Willow put in brightly. "Spike's crypt was burned to the ground
and he got the crap beat out of him last night, and this demon woman with white
hair saved his life."
"Really?" Anya said with interest. "Did she look like that one?" she
asked, pointing across the room to a booth. Buffy turned and found herself
looking at Spike and a woman matching the description that Willie had given.
She looked human enough, but felt slightly off. She was probably a vampire, or
maybe some other kind of demon half-breed. She and Spike were in the middle of
an intense conversation, probably something Buffy could rudely interrupt. She
stood up, with Xander echoing her movements a moment later.
"I have a couple questions to ask them," Buffy said, nearly under her
breath. The girl associated with Spike, with a vampire, that meant evil, or at
least bad enough in Buffy's book. Buffy knew Spike was evil, or at least would
be if he were able. Buffy didn't want one of his old pals, like Drusilla
perhaps, back in Sunnydale for Buffy to deal with, and probably ultimately kill.
Buffy walked up to there table to hear the last words proceeding from
Spike's night. " . . . a knight, huh? I bloody well wouldn't have done it,
what does that amount too, giving up your entire family?"
"I'm sure this is a touching reunion," Buffy said melodramatically, "But I
just have to interrupt.
Spike appeared surprised as he quickly straitened, looking back over his
shoulder at the Buffy. A flash of something in his eyes passed too quickly for
Buffy to recognize, but she did see the long slash mark just beginning to heal.
It stretched from his left temple across his face and cut into his lips.
"What happened to you?" Xander asked, traditionally without tact.
"What does it look like?" Spike said with traditional deliberate sarcasm.
"Some demon got friendly with a knife." Almost as an afterthought, he turned to
his long-haired companion and gestured to Buffy. "By the way, this is the
Slayer, thought you might want to know."
"And why is that?" Buffy challenged. "Who are you?" she asked the woman.
"what are you? Some kind of warrior-mage of the Byzantium?" she asked
factiously.
The woman actually laughed out loud, then seemingly tried to control her
laughter. "I am no mage."
Buffy was surprised to see Spike look at her. "Huh," he commented. "That
wasn't magic, none of it?"
"No," the woman replied. "We don't use magic, it's forbidden."
"What do you call what you did to those vamps?" Buffy asked challengingly,
receiving another look from Spike.
"Pyrokinesis," she replied dryly, her blue-purple eyes calm. She appeared
to be studying Buffy.
"It doesn't matter what you call it, I want you out of here, and out of
town," Buffy said angrily, trying not to let out her pent up rage. "You too,
Spike, I won't have you stalking my sister."
Spike practically choked on his beverage, which, surprisingly, was not
blood. "What are you talking about?" he asked in a flat voice.
"Dawn, how else would you know that she was in trouble?"
"They're called eyes, Slayer," he said in the same, nearly flat tone. The hint
of insolence was strong behind his eyes. "We nearly all have them and I used
them."
"I don't care," Buffy said, grounding out each of the words. "I want you
both out of here." Buffy was surprised at the amount of anger she felt growing
in her. She grabbed the woman by the arm.
"Buffy, what are you doing?" Dawn asked from behind her shoulder. She
gazed at the woman sitting with Spike in surprise and recognition. "Ms. Emèrai,
I didn't think you hung out at the Bronze."
"Hello, Dawn," the woman replied to Buffy's shock. "I don't, Spike said I
should know about this place though. That it was a common hangout for certain .
. . types."
"Demons?" Dawn chirped helpfully. "yeah, you do know that Spike's a
vampire, don't you?"
The woman flicked her purple eyed stare over Spike with some amusement.
"I had been made aware, yes."
Buffy couldn't take this on top of everything else that was going on, her
mother's illness, Riley leaving-she was too stressed out. "Get out of town,
both of you."
Suddenly, the woman stood up, effortlessly breaking out of Buffy's hold.
She looked up to the ceiling, turning slightly.
"What is it?" Spike asked, training his powerful hearing upstairs.
"Demons, two of them," she said, moving quickly around the table-Spike
followed swiftly. Buffy trailed behind both of them as they took the stairs to
the overhead balcony. Two rather human like demons had somehow incapacitated
two young men, and were carrying them away. It was easy to see that they were
vampires.
Spike and the woman, Emèrai moved silently up behind them. Spike shoved
one into the balcony, then slugged him across the jaw, making him drop his
burden to the ground, he staked the vamp a second later. At the same time, the
woman swiftly snapped the other vamp's neck, leaving him twitching on the
ground. Spike tossed her his stake with the ease of familiarity, and she dusted
him like a pro.
"Oh, this is real funny, Abbot and Costello," Buffy said sarcastically.
"What are you trying to prove, that demons can come back from 'the dark side'?"
"I'm not a demon," the woman said flatly.
"I'm sorry," Xander said from behind Buffy. He looked decidedly unimpressed.
"Was that not politically correct enough for you?"
Buffy watched as Spike looked swiftly at the woman who appeared to be . .
. not quite angry, but disappointed.
"She isn't a demon," Spike said, almost as if he was indignant for her.
"not even close, Slayer. Try again."
"I don't trust you, Spike," Buffy said.
"What reason do I have to lie?" Spike almost shouted, throwing up his hands in
exasperation.
"Spike, let's get out of here," Emèrai said slowly. "This is just going
to be trouble." She started down the steps, with Spike actually following her.
Buffy felt confused, she had no idea what was going on, and she disliked that.
"If she's one of Dawn's teachers . . . "Xander said, looking worried.
"Don't you need to know what kind of demon she isn't?"
Buffy smiled grimly. "I pretty much know she isn't a vamp, but she could
be some kind of half breed. If we get a sample of her blood, do you think Giles
could do anything with it about finding out who she is?"
"Don't know it until we try it," Xander said with a note of determination
in his voice.
Buffy quickly followed the path Spike had left. While indiscernible to
normal humans, Buffy's Slayer sense could pick up on where the vampire had been.
After she exited the Bronze, she swiftly followed Spike with Xander in tow. She
found him fighting with a couple of vamps, and paused, waiting to see what would
happen.
The vamps actually had some kind of coordination, but Spike was skillfully
keeping both of them lined up and tripping over each other in their haste to get
to them. Buffy watched his technique and noticed his concentration. Normally,
Spike taunted the vampires or demons he was going to kill, but now, he just
seemed focused. At precisely the right moment, Spike lashed out with the
stake, killing one vampire. He front snap kicked the second, following it with
a sliding sidekick into a tree. He stake the second as smoothly as the first.
He stood there for a moment, his hands on his temples.
Buffy didn't waste a moment. She instantly walked up behind him, turned
him around; then slammed him into the tree. Spike cried out, but seemed to be
the worse for the ware for his fight. His eyes were slightly glazed, and he
looked to be in pain. Buffy didn't care-he had caused enough pain to deserve
some himself.
"Where did she go?" Buffy demanded.
"Who . . . ?" Spike asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"You know who, Spike," Xander said with his arms folded across his chest,
and a level stare. "The chick you were with, silvery white hair, purple eyes,
beautiful?"
Now Spike was staring at the Slayer, his concentration seemed to be back,
but he was still out of it. An odd emotion touched his bright blue eyes. "I'm
sorry, Slayer," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
"What?" Buffy asked, annoyed.
"I didn't know you felt that bad about your mother," he said, his tone
completely guileless.
Buffy didn't care-she hit him as hard as she could, directly in the solar
plexus. Spike cried out, dropping to his knees as Buffy followed that up with a
punch to his jaw. "Not funny, Spike, not even remotely," she said. She was
about to hit him again when a hand latched firmly on her wrist.
"Can't fight someone who can't fight back," the woman said sternly,
shoving Buffy to the ground harshly. Buffy swiftly rolled, coming to her feet.
"He's evil," Buffy said, "he doesn't count."
The woman stared at her, as if disgusted. "It's not about him, Slayer, it's
about you. You don't kill or beat the hell out of someone for your own sick
pleasure. That's what we call perverse and sadistic. It's not about their
moral standards, it's about yours."
"What do you know?" Buffy asked. "You hang with vampires, what's that say
about your moral standards?"
"It says only that you don't understand," she responded. Her eyes took on
a look of disbelief as the Slayer took out a knife. "What are you doing?"
"Since you won't tell me how to fight you, I am going to find out the hard
way. If you are a friend of Spike, that means you are my enemy."
Then the Slayer attacked, skipping forward with a roundhouse kick, then a
sliding hook kick, and a spin-sidekick. None of which landed. The woman dodged
nimbly out of the way and to the side. She finally kept in the same location as
the Slayer threw a swift, back leg roundhouse to her head. The woman countered
with a very fast and very hard spin-sidekick to the ribs that landed solidly.
Buffy flew backwards, falling into a backward roll and coming to her feet. She
caught the woman's front snap-kick, but not the roundhouse that was the second
of the salvo kick. That exploded firmly against the Slayer's temple, knocking
her to the ground, unconscious.
Zalia landed on her feet, shaking her head at the Slayer's unconscious
form. The girl could have done better, but she had underestimated her opponent,
a mistake as deadly as overestimating one's opponent. She turned to the girl's
male friend, Xander, who was staring in shock.
"Are you going to try and kill me?" Xander asked, almost calmly. It would
have fooled Zalia if she hadn't been able to empathetically perceive his
emotions.
"Decidedly not," Zalia responded. "Like we tried to tell you, I am
neither evil, nor a demon. Take her home-I didn't kick her that hard. Tell her
we will be gone by the next sunset."
Xander nodded, and picked up the Slayer, disappearing into the night.
Spike got to his feet, staring at Zalia with new respect. "Where are we going?"
he asked warily.
"I don't believe this!" Cordelia wailed out-loud as the demon dragged her
into the alleyway. "This is so not fair, I don't get a vision to save my own
life? Who will be the connection to The Powers That Be, then?" She fruitlessly
struggled, trying to grab the pocketknife deep inside her pocket. There! She
had it. She flicked open the largest blade and stabbed it into the demon's leg,
gouging downward.
It roared in agony, a sound so loud that even the dead could hear.
Cordelia stabbed him again as she saw two familiar figures round the corner as a
dead run. Wesley had some kind of short sword in his hand, and Gunn had a hefty
battleaxe. They both tore toward Cordelia and the demon at top speed. Cordelia
didn't wait for them to arrive, she stabbed the demon twice more until he
dropped her. By that time, Gunn and Wesley were on them.
The two shouted in unison, Wesley lunging forward and running the demon
through on the sword, and Gunn swinging down hard on the demon's neck with a
sickening crunch. It fell dead to the asphalt ground.
Cordelia crawled away from it on her hands, then got to her feet. "Are
you all right, Cordelia?' Wesley asked instantly, ever the polite one.
"Yeah, sure, fine," Cordelia said, still looking at the thing in horror.
"Not a bad piece of work, English," Gunn said with a wide smile. "not
bad. Will this thing stay dead if we just leave it?" he asked.
"Yes, the blood should not have any toxic or corrosive effect on the
surroundings. In fact, if I am correct about this particular breed, it should
decompose rapidly."
"How did you guys know to bring weapons with you?" Cordelia asked as they
headed back out of the alleyway together.
"Just comin' back from a used weapons store English found," Gunn said,
almost cheerfully.
"Yes," Wesley said; he held up his sword, now free of demon blood. "Can
you believe the quality of this blade?"
Cordelia frankly didn't care, but she smiled anyway. "Thanks for savin'
my life, guys."
"Anytime," Gunn said in reply, then trailed off as he saw the menagerie of
demons waiting for them.
"What on . . . ."Wesley began, staring at them. There were all sorts of
demons, vampires, slime demons, a couple of the species they had just killed,
some horned species that Cordelia had seen before, and a few she hadn't ever
seen before.
"How about now?" Cordelia asked. "Oh, no, we are so dead."
"Um . . . ." Wesley said, staring at the fifteen demons slowly moving
towards them.
"Run," Gunn finished, grabbing Cordelia's arm and running back the way they
came. The three hauled ass down the alleyway, coming around the edge and to a
side street that was barely used. Wesley skidded to a stop, and Gunn and
Cordelia nearly ran into them.
In front of them was an overturned junk car, looking as if someone had
burned it before. Behind the car stepped a tall, blond vampire with striking
blue eyes, that Cordelia had never wanted to see again. Even Wesley looked
perturbed, although he leveled his sword at the vampire.
"We don't want trouble, just let us pass," Wesley said swiftly. "There is
a horde of demons after us, and undoubtedly they will kill us all."
"I know," Spike said, but not in the same arrogant manner as was his
custom. "You killed their leader about six hours ago today, recall?"
"Their leader?" Gunn asked with skepticism.
"No time, if you don't wan to die," Spike said. He thrust a crossbow into
Wesley's hands, then pulled out a more impressive longbow with heavy, barbed
arrows. "Tag them, see if you can wound them. We'll take care of the rest."
"Who's we?" Gunn asked.
"Down!" Spike said sharply. Gunn and Cordelia fell behind the car as the
two each put an arrow to the string.
Cordelia noted that while Wesley's crossbow was much easier to aim and
fire, Spike's longbow did far more damage. Cordelia watched with some surprise
as he and Wesley picked off the vampires with ease. Suddenly, a scream sounded
through the air, causing her and Gunn to look behind them.
Some of the demons actually had brains, and had decided to ambush them
from the other side. Five or six of them had sneaked up behind them, but now
Cordelia winced as a vampire, shot through the arm with a fire arrow, lit up
with flame, and in a few moments, exploded into dust.
Gunn launched himself toward the first demon, swinging his battleaxe with
some accuracy. It cracked hard against the demon's skull, stunning him as Gunn
imbedded the blade into his forehead. Cordelia grabbed Wesley's sword after a
moment of hesitation and followed Gunn in. She managed to stab a demon already
wounded with an arrow; then, as he faltered, she brought the sword down in an
arc--beheading him. A vampire grabbed her by the back of the throat, and though
by no means proficient with the sword, Cordelia managed to reverse the blade,
and slam it upward and into his unbeating heart. He released his hold,
staggering backward. Cordelia pulled the weapon out, then swung it like a
baseball bat, decapitating it smoothly.
Cordelia turned to see Gunn fighting off the last demon. She stabbed it
through the back and he cut its throat with the edge of the blade. They turned,
almost in unison to see how Wesley and Spike were faring.
The former Watcher was down, unconscious, and bleeding as far as Cordelia
could see. Spike was, surprisingly, doing his best to keep the four remaining
demons off Wesley. He had totally vamped out and was fighting with a fierceness
that surprised her. Gunn and Cordelia rushed over to help, but stopped as the
four were quickly defeated in the next minute.
A figure came up behind one of the demons, running it through with a
broadsword, not the puny thing Cordelia had by comparison. It dropped
instantly. The new fighter, apparently the same one who had been using the fire
arrows, now engaged the slime demon with the battle axe. The fighter caught the
axe with a block of the sword, then the sword sliced on through it, lashing out
to slice across the demon's chest. It screeched against metal armor as the
fighter nimbly jumped back, avoiding the falling axe head. Spike performed a
jumping front snap kick, and the crunch from the demon's broken jaw and neck
resounded throughout the alley.
The fighter danced backwards, coming under the light of the street lamp.
Cordelia saw that she was female, with long, white hair bound back in a braid.
She tossed her sword underhandedly to Spike, who caught it and sliced off the
head of the demon, making in turn into some gelatinous ooze. She struck a
fighting stance, then launched herself at the taller, most likely stronger
demon.
She aimed low, striking at the knee and shin, avoiding all types of armor.
She performed a double roundhouse, spin hook kick combination that dazed him.
She jumped up with the same jumping front snap-kick, then followed with a
crescent kick, tornado crescent kick combination. As he fell to the side, Spike
drove the sword through an opening of the armor, skewering him like a shish-ki-
bob.
He straitened after a moment, then turned back, dropping to his knees by
Wesley. "He's out," Spike said seriously. "You'll probably need to call an
ambulance."
The woman knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his head and closing
her eyes. "The injury isn't too bad, but yes, he will need to go to a
hospital."
Cordelia was instantly on her guard again. "One thing Spike, what do you
want from us?"