From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 7)
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:33 PM
CONTINUED FROM PART SIX
Part Seven: Pragmatism
"You know, if anyone had told me that I was destined to (Dig!) be
digging up Buffy's grave with you right next to me, I'd have probably
laughed in their face (Dig!) and then hit them with whatever was handy."
"Trust me, Xander, I'm less thrilled about this than you are."
Spike and Xander were about five feet down into Buffy's grave. Xander
had his shirt off and was sweating hard, while Spike had taken his coat off
and hadn't even broken a sweat. But then, he couldn't break a sweat. They
had been shoveling dirt for at least an hour, and Xander was starting to
appreciate all those construction gigs he had pulled in the last two years.
It had given him a thicker constitution for this kind of thing.
They hadn't gone straight to the cemetery after they left Willow's
place. They had first gone by Xander's home so he could change into some
work clothes. Then they had to go by Spike's tomb to pick up some shovels.
Spike never explained why he had a pair of shovels in his lair, but Xander
didn't particularly want to know the reasons. At least it saved them a trip
to the hardware store.
They had also argued about how they were supposed to bring Buffy's body
home, since they couldn't expect to just walk with it back to Willow's
apartment. Spike managed to produce a body bag (again, Xander didn't ask why
he had one) and Xander had to find a parking spot in the cemetery close
enough for them to access but hidden enough to avoid notice. There weren't
any custodians during the night, as it was next to suicide in Sunnydale to
be a cemetery watchman, but there might have been other eyes around that
would have found their actions most curious.
By the time they had started digging, an hour had rolled by. Two hours
of dealing with Spike, in total. It felt like two days to Xander.
"What do you mean, you're less thrilled? I though (Dig!) vampires liked
getting down in the dirt," said Xander.
"A: vampires don't generally dig up corpses, unless there's (Dig!)
something good to get at. And B: I was referring to your smell."
"I thought vampires liked the smell of sweat off of their (Dig!)
victims."
"Fear sweat, not work sweat. There's a (Dig!) difference."
"Well, you're not a bed of roses, either."
"What? I don't sweat."
"Yeah, but do you wash (Dig!) your clothes ever?"
"I get my jacket (Dig!) dry-cleaned on occasion."
Xander rolled his eyes. "Do us all a favor. Clean the rest of your
(Dig!) wardrobe more than once a century. Your shirt smell like a tomb."
"Fancy that," Spike said in a sarcastic tone.
"Hey, girls go for the clean (Dig!) types."
"I've had girls, you know. None of them complained about my (Dig!)
clothing. Well, Harm kept wanting me to wear these frilly white lace
shirts...."
"Whoa, okay! I don't want to know anymore about what you and Harm
(Clink!)...."
The last sweep of Xander's shovel rapped against a hard object. It
wasn't too hard to guess what it was. Spike and Xander looked at each other,
then began clearing the dirt away from the object. Sure enough, they had hit
the lid of the casket. Buffy's casket.
They climbed out of the open grave and stood at its base. Neither of
them volunteered to open it. They stood looking down into the grave for what
might have been only seconds, but what felt like eternity. Finally, Xander
spoke. "Well, I guess we better do it. I'll hold the bag open, you put her
in."
Spike opened his mouth as if to argue, but closed it again and decided
against saying anything. He had dealt with corpses plenty of times. He'd
made many corpses himself, something that he no longer felt real good about.
But he wasn't sure he could take the sight of a four-month dead Buffy.
Regardless, he had no other recourse. Someone had to open the casket.
He dropped down into the hole and located the lock on the casket. With
his strength, he easily broke it and flung the lid wide.
They worked in silence, placing her body in the body bag and zipping it
up. Spike carried the body on his right shoulder as the two of them walked
back to Xander's car. They placed it in the trunk, got in, and drove out of
the cemetery. They didn't say a word to each other the rest of the trip
back to Willow's apartment.
********
Surpic demons were green skinned, multi-fanged, serpent-like demons that
typically tried to eat anything moving they came across. It was shaped like
a biped, as tall as a man, but its arms were tentacles that ended in
razor-sharp points. They were fast, unmerciful, and always hungry.
To Valmont, they were a little boring.
He dodged the left tentacle as it tried to gash his leg, then ducked as
the right one came at his head. He did a back flip to gain a little distance
from the Surpic, but the beast quickly pursued him, which is what he
expected. The beast had a one track mind.
He did another back flip, and again the beast pursued him. Valmont was
glad he was doing this on a grassy knoll, since it gave him plenty of room
to maneuver. He started yet another back flip, and in anticipation the
Surpic charged him before he had completed the flip.
But instead of flipping, Valmont pushed off the ground and righted
himself, directly in front of the Surpic's surprised face. It became even
more surprised when Valmont shoved his right hand, now a claw,
through its three serpent eyes and into its underdeveloped brain.
It screamed and writhed for a few seconds, then silently slipped
off his claw and collapsed on the ground.
Valmont wiped his hand on the grass to clean it off, then dragged the
body off to the woods nearby to decompose. He buried it under some bushes
and figured the matter done. Demons, for some reason, tended to rot faster
in the Earth dimension than normal creatures. It explained why more people
didn't come across demon carcasses more often.
Valmont sighed and looked around the knoll. It was part of one of the
Sunnydale public parks, near the outskirts of town. It was hard to see all
the intrinsic details at night, but his nose could pick out scents of
sleeping birds and closed wild flowers that his eyes could never spy. The
place was alive, and it felt good just to stand and be within it. He was
adapting to the city, but it would never smell "real" to him. And with his
hearing, he could never filter out all the background noise.
People. He could never find peace around people. It was why he had fled
to the woods decades ago. Well, that wasn't the only reason, but it was a
big one.
He pushed his musings aside and resumed his patrol. He had adopted a
path to follow around the city that would eventually take him past most of
the demonic hot spots in town. He had already killed a pair a vampires
mulling around the garbage dump. The Surpic had been hiding in the
park. Compared to last night, it was a little slow. He had taken out
fifteen vampires last night. Someone had been trying to restock the
bloodsuckers, it seemed.
Well, he wasn't a Slayer, so his name probably wouldn't put the fear of
God into the nightcrawlers like a Slayer would. But when the demonic
underworld finally got word of his deeds, they'd start laying low again.
He'd have to start rooting them out. And by the time another Slayer showed
up, he'd have this town cleaned and pressed of its undead problem.
The replacement issue again. Valmont had gone to Giles' home earlier in
the evening to talk to him, but he hadn't been home. He wanted to ask Giles
about the other Slayer. Valmont had this feeling that the Watchers were
starting to get anxious about having their only Chosen One in prison. And
anxious people can become dangerous people very rapidly.
The truth was, the only way he'd be replaced is when the Slayer in
prison died. And he doubted a Slayer would be done in by prison food. Yet
Mr. Blue Suit seemed confident that his patrols here would be short-term. He
wasn't sure if Giles would even be able to do anything or not, but at least
Valmont could find out what he knew and go from there. He wasn't the
champion he used to be, but he wasn't going to let someone get assassinated
under his nose, if that was truly in the works.
He had been walking near the cemetery, the favored hang-out of vampires,
when his heightened ears picked out a couple of faint voices coming from the
far side of the cemetery. He sniffed the air, but this close to the cemetery
his nose couldn't pick out individual scents from the overwhelming
earth-rot smell. He'd have to get closer, and that's why he had ears as
well as the nose.
After a few minutes of creeping through the cemetery, he found the
source of the voices. From behind a large tombstone, he watched two guys dig
into a grave. One he didn't recognize, though he was close enough to tell by
scent that he was human, but the other he knew from last night; the vampire
named Spike.
His first impulse was to jump in and beat the two vandals within an inch
of their lives, and maybe dust Spike on a whim. But then, violent action was
pretty much the first impulse he had to any situation. By now, he had
learned to ignore it. The better tactic was to wait and see what they were
up to. If there were others, he'd freak out the whole bunch, scare them
straight. Maybe let the vampire live, if he felt generous.
He watched as they dug and talked, watched as they found the casket,
watched as they pulled a body from the casket and placed it in a body bag,
and he watched as they walked away. Over time, his judgment about the two
guys went from vandals to something worse. You don't steal bodies,
especially around here, without some kind of nefarious intent. He also
caught enough of the chatter to know that the human was named Xander. Spike
had mentioned him last night. A friend, it seemed.
Valmont snuck away from his hiding spot and started to follow the two
men. In passing, he saw the name of the open grave's former occupant. Buffy
Anne Summers. The Slayer. It was the grave Spike had stopped out the
previous evening.
A vampire desecrating the resting place of a Slayer. Not exactly
unexpected. Valmont was starting to regret not having removed Spike's head.
He watched as the two men drove away in their car, the human at the
driver's wheel. Valmont took a deep whiff of the air, then started jogging
after the car. He couldn't keep up with the car itself, but he could easily
track it. The body they had unearthed reeked.
********
Xander came through Willow's front door and almost didn't recognize the
room. The furniture had been pushed along the walls and a big floor space
opened up. Drawn on the floor in white chalk powder was a massive pentagram
enclosed in a circle, a fairly traditional spell symbol. It had other signs
drawn along the edges, each in a different color of chalk dust. *Jeez,
they're going to have to do a lot of vacuuming after this,* Xander thought
off-hand.
They had also pulled out every candle they had and had placed them at
intersecting points along the pentagram. He also spotted a few talismans and
charms hanging off of the walls. He could smell incense in the air. Always
with the incense.
Anya and Tara were in the process of lighting all the candles, while
Willow was talking to Dawn in the kitchen. He didn't catch much of the
conversation, but Xander was figuring that Willow was either explaining to
Dawn her part in the spells, or just trying to boost her morale. Hell, he
needed a morale boost after having just seen Buffy's corpse.
Willow saw Xander come in and went over to him. "Do you guys have
her?"
Xander nodded. "Spike's guarding the car right now. I wanted to make
sure you were all ready to go here before we brought her in." He
wrinkled his nose a little and said, "Don't you think you overdid it on the
incense?"
"It's not for the spell. It's to mask the odor. She's been dead for four
months, remember?"
"Hard not to notice."
Willow patted Xander on the shoulder. "We're going to get through this.
Besides, you don't have the yucky job."
"I thought I did have a yucky job. Digging up Buffy's body with Spike as
company counts as yucky."
Willow gave him a little smile. "I'll give you that. Go back to the car.
Bring Buffy's body into my room when you come in."
Several minutes later, Spike, Xander and Willow were standing in the
bedroom. Spike was holding the currently-occupied body bag in his arms.
Willow had spread out some sheets she had treated with a few herbs on her
bed. They would be used as a wrap for Buffy's body for the coming spell
ritual.
Willow didn't want to see the body. She was afraid that it would shatter
her certainty that Buffy could be saved. But she had to ensure that every
step of the spell was done right, and that meant having to see the body.
"Okay, open it up," she said to Spike.
As Spike laid the bag down and began to open the zipper, Willow focused
her mind on the spells and the hard work ahead. Right now, she couldn't let
herself feel anything. She had to be the strong one, because it looked like
Xander and Spike were ready to toss their cookies, or whatever vampires
tossed when they felt like hurling.
********
Thirty minutes after he had lost sight of the car, Valmont located it
next to an apartment complex. His nose had kept him on the trail. The human
had apparently gotten out and gone inside, leaving Spike by the car. The jog
had winded Valmont a little, since he had been running at full speed to
keep up with the car and not lose the scent, so he took a moment to
breathe and read the street signs. By the time the human came back
and retrieved the body from the trunk, Valmont had a good idea where
he was, address wise.
From his hiding spot near a large dumpster, Valmont watched as Spike and
Xander took the body inside the complex and over to a small apartment door
on the ground floor. They had wisely covered the body bag with a blanket,
though they still looked like they were carrying something that they would
rather not be carrying. Their body language gave them away.
Despite the distance and the poor light, Valmont could make out the
apartment number on the door. His eyes, much like his ears and nose,
were powerfully enhanced. He now had a full address. It mattered
only because he had a phone call to make before he crashed this
little broo-ha-ha.
********
The door to the bedroom opened and Willow came out first, followed by
Xander and then by Spike, who was holding a body wrapped in white sheets.
All three of them looked nauseated. They had spent a good half hour in the
room, and there hadn't been enough incense to mask the reek from the body.
"You know, Willow," said Spike, "this had better work. Zombie Buffy
would just be too smelly to be around."
No one bothered to reply to Spike's crass attempt at humor. He placed
the body in the center of the pentagram as Willow had instructed him to.
Everyone was rooted to the floor for a few long moments. It was as if seeing
Buffy's wrapped body had paralyzed them. Willow knew what was happening.
Doubts and fears and old pain were seeping into their minds, and it was
starting to gnaw at them. She had to keep the momentum going.
"Guys, look at me." Willow's voice broke the paralysis on the group and
all eyes turned on her. "Right now, Buffy's still dead. That's not her under
the sheets. It's just another part of the spell. Keep that going in your
mind, and you'll be okay. Tara, you and I should..."
"...should probably not move right now." Another voice had cut in and
finished Willow's sentence.
Spike's eyes widened in shock and surprise. He had recognized the voice.
The group had been so distracted by Buffy's body and Willow's speech
that it took them a second to realize that the front door was open and a
unfamiliar man was standing in the doorway. He had his arms
crossed and was glaring harshly at everyone. Willow didn't know who he was,
but she had a feeling that he wasn't a new neighbor trying to be friendly.
"Well, now, " said Valmont. "It's getting close to midnight on a Friday,
and I guess the youth around here like to hang out and raise the dead for
fun. I guess getting drunk is no longer in style."
"God damn it!" said Spike, trying to channel his shock into anger. "How
did you find us?"
Valmont shrugged his shoulders and started causally walking into the
apartment. "A little patrolling, a little persistence, and a little luck.
The usual culprits."
The word *patrolling* engaged Anya's memory. "Hey, he must be that new
protector that Giles mentioned to me today. I think his name is Valmert, or
something."
"Protector?! Him?" said an astonished Xander. "Anya, when were you going
to mention this?"
"We kind of got sidetracked," she said. "The whole
raising-Buffy-from-the-dead was a little distracting and..."
"Quiet," demanded Valmont. "First of all, it's Valmont. Second, am I to
assume that some or all of you know Giles?"
Spike took a step toward Valmont and said, "You know I know him. Hell,
this is all being done with his direct permission."
Valmont raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then you won't mind if I call him
and check?"
*Whoops,* thought Spike, *should have seen that coming.* "Ah... he goes
to
bed early, needs his sleep. I'm sure if you wait until..."
"Can it, wise-ass. Now I want to...(sniff!sniff!) Friggen! How much
incense did you use in here?" He clutched his nose as if it was burning.
"Hey, bud, you're no policeman," said Xander, getting irate. "You don't
have the right to barge in here. And no one sure as hell invited you to the
party."
"Xander, this isn't the kind of guy you piss off," said Spike.
"Oh, I'm always close to being pissed off, but don't worry about pushing
me over the edge, " said Valmont, recovering from the potent incense in his
sensitive mucous membranes. "But I am as much a policeman around here
as your Slayer was. And I never get invited to parties. No, I'm the guy
that gets to clean up the mess after the party's over. Whether it's a
demon party or a vampire party or a 'bunch of naive people who want
to bring back the dead and end up creating a zombie instead' party.
I've seen a lot of messes, like the one you guys are about to make.
I suggest you clean up after yourselves now."
Willow could see that the situation was heading out of their control.
She stepped in front of Valmont and, in her most forceful voice, said,
"We're not naive. We've fought with Buffy right up to the end. We know the
dangers and we know what we're doing. This isn't your concern. Leave."
Emboldened by Willow's stance, Spike stepped up to Willow's side. "Yeah,
you cold-hearted sod. You might be a bad ass where you come from, but we're
the ones that helped Buffy keep this town from going undead. Bugger off."
Valmont smirked. "I prefer the term 'pragmatic sod,' thank you. And I
wouldn't be calling other people cold-hearted, vampire. And honestly, I
don't care if you all were the Slayer's personal fan club or not. These
spells never end well. If you won't take my word for it..."
As if on cue, another man appeared in the doorway. And Willow felt her
heart sink into her toes.
Giles.
"... then take his."
***********************
CONTINUED IN PART EIGHT
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 7)
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:33 PM
CONTINUED FROM PART SIX
Part Seven: Pragmatism
"You know, if anyone had told me that I was destined to (Dig!) be
digging up Buffy's grave with you right next to me, I'd have probably
laughed in their face (Dig!) and then hit them with whatever was handy."
"Trust me, Xander, I'm less thrilled about this than you are."
Spike and Xander were about five feet down into Buffy's grave. Xander
had his shirt off and was sweating hard, while Spike had taken his coat off
and hadn't even broken a sweat. But then, he couldn't break a sweat. They
had been shoveling dirt for at least an hour, and Xander was starting to
appreciate all those construction gigs he had pulled in the last two years.
It had given him a thicker constitution for this kind of thing.
They hadn't gone straight to the cemetery after they left Willow's
place. They had first gone by Xander's home so he could change into some
work clothes. Then they had to go by Spike's tomb to pick up some shovels.
Spike never explained why he had a pair of shovels in his lair, but Xander
didn't particularly want to know the reasons. At least it saved them a trip
to the hardware store.
They had also argued about how they were supposed to bring Buffy's body
home, since they couldn't expect to just walk with it back to Willow's
apartment. Spike managed to produce a body bag (again, Xander didn't ask why
he had one) and Xander had to find a parking spot in the cemetery close
enough for them to access but hidden enough to avoid notice. There weren't
any custodians during the night, as it was next to suicide in Sunnydale to
be a cemetery watchman, but there might have been other eyes around that
would have found their actions most curious.
By the time they had started digging, an hour had rolled by. Two hours
of dealing with Spike, in total. It felt like two days to Xander.
"What do you mean, you're less thrilled? I though (Dig!) vampires liked
getting down in the dirt," said Xander.
"A: vampires don't generally dig up corpses, unless there's (Dig!)
something good to get at. And B: I was referring to your smell."
"I thought vampires liked the smell of sweat off of their (Dig!)
victims."
"Fear sweat, not work sweat. There's a (Dig!) difference."
"Well, you're not a bed of roses, either."
"What? I don't sweat."
"Yeah, but do you wash (Dig!) your clothes ever?"
"I get my jacket (Dig!) dry-cleaned on occasion."
Xander rolled his eyes. "Do us all a favor. Clean the rest of your
(Dig!) wardrobe more than once a century. Your shirt smell like a tomb."
"Fancy that," Spike said in a sarcastic tone.
"Hey, girls go for the clean (Dig!) types."
"I've had girls, you know. None of them complained about my (Dig!)
clothing. Well, Harm kept wanting me to wear these frilly white lace
shirts...."
"Whoa, okay! I don't want to know anymore about what you and Harm
(Clink!)...."
The last sweep of Xander's shovel rapped against a hard object. It
wasn't too hard to guess what it was. Spike and Xander looked at each other,
then began clearing the dirt away from the object. Sure enough, they had hit
the lid of the casket. Buffy's casket.
They climbed out of the open grave and stood at its base. Neither of
them volunteered to open it. They stood looking down into the grave for what
might have been only seconds, but what felt like eternity. Finally, Xander
spoke. "Well, I guess we better do it. I'll hold the bag open, you put her
in."
Spike opened his mouth as if to argue, but closed it again and decided
against saying anything. He had dealt with corpses plenty of times. He'd
made many corpses himself, something that he no longer felt real good about.
But he wasn't sure he could take the sight of a four-month dead Buffy.
Regardless, he had no other recourse. Someone had to open the casket.
He dropped down into the hole and located the lock on the casket. With
his strength, he easily broke it and flung the lid wide.
They worked in silence, placing her body in the body bag and zipping it
up. Spike carried the body on his right shoulder as the two of them walked
back to Xander's car. They placed it in the trunk, got in, and drove out of
the cemetery. They didn't say a word to each other the rest of the trip
back to Willow's apartment.
********
Surpic demons were green skinned, multi-fanged, serpent-like demons that
typically tried to eat anything moving they came across. It was shaped like
a biped, as tall as a man, but its arms were tentacles that ended in
razor-sharp points. They were fast, unmerciful, and always hungry.
To Valmont, they were a little boring.
He dodged the left tentacle as it tried to gash his leg, then ducked as
the right one came at his head. He did a back flip to gain a little distance
from the Surpic, but the beast quickly pursued him, which is what he
expected. The beast had a one track mind.
He did another back flip, and again the beast pursued him. Valmont was
glad he was doing this on a grassy knoll, since it gave him plenty of room
to maneuver. He started yet another back flip, and in anticipation the
Surpic charged him before he had completed the flip.
But instead of flipping, Valmont pushed off the ground and righted
himself, directly in front of the Surpic's surprised face. It became even
more surprised when Valmont shoved his right hand, now a claw,
through its three serpent eyes and into its underdeveloped brain.
It screamed and writhed for a few seconds, then silently slipped
off his claw and collapsed on the ground.
Valmont wiped his hand on the grass to clean it off, then dragged the
body off to the woods nearby to decompose. He buried it under some bushes
and figured the matter done. Demons, for some reason, tended to rot faster
in the Earth dimension than normal creatures. It explained why more people
didn't come across demon carcasses more often.
Valmont sighed and looked around the knoll. It was part of one of the
Sunnydale public parks, near the outskirts of town. It was hard to see all
the intrinsic details at night, but his nose could pick out scents of
sleeping birds and closed wild flowers that his eyes could never spy. The
place was alive, and it felt good just to stand and be within it. He was
adapting to the city, but it would never smell "real" to him. And with his
hearing, he could never filter out all the background noise.
People. He could never find peace around people. It was why he had fled
to the woods decades ago. Well, that wasn't the only reason, but it was a
big one.
He pushed his musings aside and resumed his patrol. He had adopted a
path to follow around the city that would eventually take him past most of
the demonic hot spots in town. He had already killed a pair a vampires
mulling around the garbage dump. The Surpic had been hiding in the
park. Compared to last night, it was a little slow. He had taken out
fifteen vampires last night. Someone had been trying to restock the
bloodsuckers, it seemed.
Well, he wasn't a Slayer, so his name probably wouldn't put the fear of
God into the nightcrawlers like a Slayer would. But when the demonic
underworld finally got word of his deeds, they'd start laying low again.
He'd have to start rooting them out. And by the time another Slayer showed
up, he'd have this town cleaned and pressed of its undead problem.
The replacement issue again. Valmont had gone to Giles' home earlier in
the evening to talk to him, but he hadn't been home. He wanted to ask Giles
about the other Slayer. Valmont had this feeling that the Watchers were
starting to get anxious about having their only Chosen One in prison. And
anxious people can become dangerous people very rapidly.
The truth was, the only way he'd be replaced is when the Slayer in
prison died. And he doubted a Slayer would be done in by prison food. Yet
Mr. Blue Suit seemed confident that his patrols here would be short-term. He
wasn't sure if Giles would even be able to do anything or not, but at least
Valmont could find out what he knew and go from there. He wasn't the
champion he used to be, but he wasn't going to let someone get assassinated
under his nose, if that was truly in the works.
He had been walking near the cemetery, the favored hang-out of vampires,
when his heightened ears picked out a couple of faint voices coming from the
far side of the cemetery. He sniffed the air, but this close to the cemetery
his nose couldn't pick out individual scents from the overwhelming
earth-rot smell. He'd have to get closer, and that's why he had ears as
well as the nose.
After a few minutes of creeping through the cemetery, he found the
source of the voices. From behind a large tombstone, he watched two guys dig
into a grave. One he didn't recognize, though he was close enough to tell by
scent that he was human, but the other he knew from last night; the vampire
named Spike.
His first impulse was to jump in and beat the two vandals within an inch
of their lives, and maybe dust Spike on a whim. But then, violent action was
pretty much the first impulse he had to any situation. By now, he had
learned to ignore it. The better tactic was to wait and see what they were
up to. If there were others, he'd freak out the whole bunch, scare them
straight. Maybe let the vampire live, if he felt generous.
He watched as they dug and talked, watched as they found the casket,
watched as they pulled a body from the casket and placed it in a body bag,
and he watched as they walked away. Over time, his judgment about the two
guys went from vandals to something worse. You don't steal bodies,
especially around here, without some kind of nefarious intent. He also
caught enough of the chatter to know that the human was named Xander. Spike
had mentioned him last night. A friend, it seemed.
Valmont snuck away from his hiding spot and started to follow the two
men. In passing, he saw the name of the open grave's former occupant. Buffy
Anne Summers. The Slayer. It was the grave Spike had stopped out the
previous evening.
A vampire desecrating the resting place of a Slayer. Not exactly
unexpected. Valmont was starting to regret not having removed Spike's head.
He watched as the two men drove away in their car, the human at the
driver's wheel. Valmont took a deep whiff of the air, then started jogging
after the car. He couldn't keep up with the car itself, but he could easily
track it. The body they had unearthed reeked.
********
Xander came through Willow's front door and almost didn't recognize the
room. The furniture had been pushed along the walls and a big floor space
opened up. Drawn on the floor in white chalk powder was a massive pentagram
enclosed in a circle, a fairly traditional spell symbol. It had other signs
drawn along the edges, each in a different color of chalk dust. *Jeez,
they're going to have to do a lot of vacuuming after this,* Xander thought
off-hand.
They had also pulled out every candle they had and had placed them at
intersecting points along the pentagram. He also spotted a few talismans and
charms hanging off of the walls. He could smell incense in the air. Always
with the incense.
Anya and Tara were in the process of lighting all the candles, while
Willow was talking to Dawn in the kitchen. He didn't catch much of the
conversation, but Xander was figuring that Willow was either explaining to
Dawn her part in the spells, or just trying to boost her morale. Hell, he
needed a morale boost after having just seen Buffy's corpse.
Willow saw Xander come in and went over to him. "Do you guys have
her?"
Xander nodded. "Spike's guarding the car right now. I wanted to make
sure you were all ready to go here before we brought her in." He
wrinkled his nose a little and said, "Don't you think you overdid it on the
incense?"
"It's not for the spell. It's to mask the odor. She's been dead for four
months, remember?"
"Hard not to notice."
Willow patted Xander on the shoulder. "We're going to get through this.
Besides, you don't have the yucky job."
"I thought I did have a yucky job. Digging up Buffy's body with Spike as
company counts as yucky."
Willow gave him a little smile. "I'll give you that. Go back to the car.
Bring Buffy's body into my room when you come in."
Several minutes later, Spike, Xander and Willow were standing in the
bedroom. Spike was holding the currently-occupied body bag in his arms.
Willow had spread out some sheets she had treated with a few herbs on her
bed. They would be used as a wrap for Buffy's body for the coming spell
ritual.
Willow didn't want to see the body. She was afraid that it would shatter
her certainty that Buffy could be saved. But she had to ensure that every
step of the spell was done right, and that meant having to see the body.
"Okay, open it up," she said to Spike.
As Spike laid the bag down and began to open the zipper, Willow focused
her mind on the spells and the hard work ahead. Right now, she couldn't let
herself feel anything. She had to be the strong one, because it looked like
Xander and Spike were ready to toss their cookies, or whatever vampires
tossed when they felt like hurling.
********
Thirty minutes after he had lost sight of the car, Valmont located it
next to an apartment complex. His nose had kept him on the trail. The human
had apparently gotten out and gone inside, leaving Spike by the car. The jog
had winded Valmont a little, since he had been running at full speed to
keep up with the car and not lose the scent, so he took a moment to
breathe and read the street signs. By the time the human came back
and retrieved the body from the trunk, Valmont had a good idea where
he was, address wise.
From his hiding spot near a large dumpster, Valmont watched as Spike and
Xander took the body inside the complex and over to a small apartment door
on the ground floor. They had wisely covered the body bag with a blanket,
though they still looked like they were carrying something that they would
rather not be carrying. Their body language gave them away.
Despite the distance and the poor light, Valmont could make out the
apartment number on the door. His eyes, much like his ears and nose,
were powerfully enhanced. He now had a full address. It mattered
only because he had a phone call to make before he crashed this
little broo-ha-ha.
********
The door to the bedroom opened and Willow came out first, followed by
Xander and then by Spike, who was holding a body wrapped in white sheets.
All three of them looked nauseated. They had spent a good half hour in the
room, and there hadn't been enough incense to mask the reek from the body.
"You know, Willow," said Spike, "this had better work. Zombie Buffy
would just be too smelly to be around."
No one bothered to reply to Spike's crass attempt at humor. He placed
the body in the center of the pentagram as Willow had instructed him to.
Everyone was rooted to the floor for a few long moments. It was as if seeing
Buffy's wrapped body had paralyzed them. Willow knew what was happening.
Doubts and fears and old pain were seeping into their minds, and it was
starting to gnaw at them. She had to keep the momentum going.
"Guys, look at me." Willow's voice broke the paralysis on the group and
all eyes turned on her. "Right now, Buffy's still dead. That's not her under
the sheets. It's just another part of the spell. Keep that going in your
mind, and you'll be okay. Tara, you and I should..."
"...should probably not move right now." Another voice had cut in and
finished Willow's sentence.
Spike's eyes widened in shock and surprise. He had recognized the voice.
The group had been so distracted by Buffy's body and Willow's speech
that it took them a second to realize that the front door was open and a
unfamiliar man was standing in the doorway. He had his arms
crossed and was glaring harshly at everyone. Willow didn't know who he was,
but she had a feeling that he wasn't a new neighbor trying to be friendly.
"Well, now, " said Valmont. "It's getting close to midnight on a Friday,
and I guess the youth around here like to hang out and raise the dead for
fun. I guess getting drunk is no longer in style."
"God damn it!" said Spike, trying to channel his shock into anger. "How
did you find us?"
Valmont shrugged his shoulders and started causally walking into the
apartment. "A little patrolling, a little persistence, and a little luck.
The usual culprits."
The word *patrolling* engaged Anya's memory. "Hey, he must be that new
protector that Giles mentioned to me today. I think his name is Valmert, or
something."
"Protector?! Him?" said an astonished Xander. "Anya, when were you going
to mention this?"
"We kind of got sidetracked," she said. "The whole
raising-Buffy-from-the-dead was a little distracting and..."
"Quiet," demanded Valmont. "First of all, it's Valmont. Second, am I to
assume that some or all of you know Giles?"
Spike took a step toward Valmont and said, "You know I know him. Hell,
this is all being done with his direct permission."
Valmont raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then you won't mind if I call him
and check?"
*Whoops,* thought Spike, *should have seen that coming.* "Ah... he goes
to
bed early, needs his sleep. I'm sure if you wait until..."
"Can it, wise-ass. Now I want to...(sniff!sniff!) Friggen! How much
incense did you use in here?" He clutched his nose as if it was burning.
"Hey, bud, you're no policeman," said Xander, getting irate. "You don't
have the right to barge in here. And no one sure as hell invited you to the
party."
"Xander, this isn't the kind of guy you piss off," said Spike.
"Oh, I'm always close to being pissed off, but don't worry about pushing
me over the edge, " said Valmont, recovering from the potent incense in his
sensitive mucous membranes. "But I am as much a policeman around here
as your Slayer was. And I never get invited to parties. No, I'm the guy
that gets to clean up the mess after the party's over. Whether it's a
demon party or a vampire party or a 'bunch of naive people who want
to bring back the dead and end up creating a zombie instead' party.
I've seen a lot of messes, like the one you guys are about to make.
I suggest you clean up after yourselves now."
Willow could see that the situation was heading out of their control.
She stepped in front of Valmont and, in her most forceful voice, said,
"We're not naive. We've fought with Buffy right up to the end. We know the
dangers and we know what we're doing. This isn't your concern. Leave."
Emboldened by Willow's stance, Spike stepped up to Willow's side. "Yeah,
you cold-hearted sod. You might be a bad ass where you come from, but we're
the ones that helped Buffy keep this town from going undead. Bugger off."
Valmont smirked. "I prefer the term 'pragmatic sod,' thank you. And I
wouldn't be calling other people cold-hearted, vampire. And honestly, I
don't care if you all were the Slayer's personal fan club or not. These
spells never end well. If you won't take my word for it..."
As if on cue, another man appeared in the doorway. And Willow felt her
heart sink into her toes.
Giles.
"... then take his."
***********************
CONTINUED IN PART EIGHT