"Well?" asked Mera the next day. "Are you going?"
"No," said Rupert. "She made me tell her immediately. She'd already worked it out."
"She a quick one, that girl. Is she going for the manuscripts?"
"Yes. I told her she might not be able to read them so she'll get Willow to do a translation spell."
"Good."
"No. Not good. I should be there."
"She's old enough to make her own decisions. Time to let the child go, Rupert. If she wanted it this way - "
"Yes." Rupert closed his eyes. "I told her about Olivia, too."
"One big come clean, eh? Well, good. Secrets are terrible heavy things." Mera smiled. "Did she ask about Spike?"
"Yes, but I didn't tell her how bad it was. Didn't want to worry her about that on top of everything else - "
"Worry her? So you've accepted that part of it now?"
"Yes," Rupert said dryly. "I'm all acceptance over everything. Tell me you're really a man and I'll accept that too. Not really much point in bucking against something you have no control over, is there?"
Except the dying of the light.
He stood up. "And now I'm going to 'come clean' about you to Michael - and Quentin, if he's there."
"Have fun."
*
Michael chuckled. "I had a feeling she'd get in contact with you. When did you meet her?"
"Christmas. I learned the truth about her later. Is Quentin around?"
"No, he's in Singapore. Pity, he'd have been interested." Michael grinned. "So how did you take it?"
"Like a fool, Mike. I walked out." Rupert recalled that day with a scowl. "But I redeemed myself by going back the next day."
"Well, you kept this quiet, I must say."
"So did you," shot back Rupert. "Anyway, I've had a lot to think about."
"Why are you mentioning it now?"
Rupert jumped straight in. "Mera's offered to make me one of them."
Michael's face went blank. "What did you say?"
"You heard me, I think."
"Good god!" Michael struggled to his feet and began to pace. "What did you say to her?"
"I haven't said anything yet."
"Which means," said Michael pointedly. "That you haven't said no."
Rupert sat back in his chair. "Should I say no, Mike? Do you believe that's the right answer?"
"Does my opinion matter?"
"Not in this instance, no. Whatever else those two are, they're not evil. I'm just curious."
"Well, if you're asking me - "
"I'm asking: if she offered it to you would you accept?"
Michael was very sure. "No."
"Why? Because you believe it's wrong?"
"Because," said Michael precisely. "I want to see what's next."
"There might be nothing next."
"Do you believe that?"
Rupert laughed."No. Demons and vampires, werewolves and ghosts and gods, of course there's something next. I was just making sure of you, that's all."
"Oh, I'm sure. Don't you worry about me, I'm quite looking forward to it." Michael winced as he sat down again."It's the bit that comes before that's unpleasant. Pass me that syringe thing, would you? That packet on the table there."
"You're on injections?"
"Yes, and I insist on doing it myself."
Rupert watched as Michael gave himself the drug and slowly relaxed as it took effect.
"Oh, blessed, blessed numbness," said Michael eventually. "So. Mera's offer. What do you think about it?"
"Think? I've done nothing but bloody think. She offered it to Olivia, too."
Michael's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. My goodness."
"Olivia is also dying of cancer."
Michael found nothing to say. He watched his friend tap his fingers rhythmically on the arm of his chair.
"Mera," said Rupert at last. "She's lasted five thousand years with her sanity. She's one of the most ordinary, down-to-earth people I've ever met, personality-wise. Do you think - if you don't have the spark to begin with, you'll never go insane?"
"Possibly." Michael pointed at him. "You're seriously considering it, aren't you?"
Rupert decided to be honest. "Yes. At first I didn't want to think about it. But now?" He looked at his friend. "You're tired of the fight. I'm not. I don't want to feel useless."
"Then you must make your decision before you get any older."
"Yes. You haven't answered my question, by the way."
"Which was?"
"Do you think it's wrong?"
Michael shrugged. "As you say, there's no evil involved."
"You're hedging."
"I'm sorry, Rupert. That's all I can give you."
Rupert stared at him. "But you didn't answer with a resounding Yes."
"No." Michael raised his eyebrows. "I didn't, did I?"
*
For the next week Rupert spent every day working furiously on what he had entitled 'The Bloody Report." The pile of discarded paper on the floor grew high as he edited and revised and edited some more. It kept him mercifully busy.
He visited Mera frequently, keeping up to date on Spike. The demon's tantrums had been growing less frequent over the last few days and the creeping darkness inside the little room had become lighter. The demon was losing, but Spike was very weak.
As the demon slowly died, Mera became more and more agitated. "This is the hardest thing I've ever been through," she said. "And I was caught in the Fire of London. The second one."
The time was drawing near when they would know for sure if the Balm had worked and Rupert found himself waiting for contact - from Mera, from Buffy, Olivia. Even from Quentin. The only communication he had with the Sunnydale gang was from Willow, who had taken it upon herself to give him daily updates on Buffy.
Her first e-mail gave Rupert no peace. The gang had retrieved Mera's hidden manuscripts and was studying them avidly. The fascination count was high in Sunnydale.
Buffy's reaction, however, was a different matter. She had become 'frighteningly frightening', as Willow put it. She hunted vampires with an unpleasant intensity, scouring not just the cemetaries but also the Bronze, the sewers, back streets - anywhere a vampire might hide out. She was dusting them almost in plain view of Sunnydale's citizens and not returning home until after midnight. Dawn was worried. They all were.
Rupert put his head on folded arms. "Should be there," he muttered.
Within a few days, to his immense relief, Willow's messages became happier. Buffy appeared to have swung completely the other way. She was quiet and pensive, and the gang were able to bring the manuscripts back out from where they'd hidden them because the Slayer was no longer inclined to 'Burn them to ashes and dust and jump up and down on all the little bits until there's nothing left!'
Rupert's jaw dropped. This was one message that Mera was not going to hear about.
At last, a week after he had visited Michael, his telephone rang. It was Buffy, feeling better. Rupert could have cried.
"You were right. When I learned about the Slayer's Source, it did get better."
"I thought it would."
*
"Well, that's a look I haven't seen on you for a while," said Mera.
Rupert was smiling. "I had a call from Buffy. She's feeling better."
"Oh, some good news for a change! Well, I think we should crack a bottle of something dangerous in celebration." Mera rummaged in a cabinet. "Oh, I know! How about this?" She held up a small dark bottle and gave him an evil grin.
Rupert eyed the bottle dubiously. "What's that?"
"A very - um - particular Russian brandy." She carefully filled two into tiny glasses with a dark liquid. "Which means - " she took a sip, breathed hard and coughed. "It'll take your head off if you're not careful."
Rupert looked nervously at his glass. "Is it hissing?"
"Probably."
Rupert sipped it gingerly and his eyes watered. "Christ." His voice cracked. "How's Spike?" He put the glass down carefully as if he thought it would explode.
Mera's jovial mood evaporated. "Not a peep since last night. He was still moving around, but not very enthusiastically." She knocked back her drink and spent a few painful seconds recovering. "When I looked in after lunch today he was just lying there."
"Is it - could his demon be gone?"
"No, I tested him. It's weak but it's still there. Tenacious little bastard." She stood up and with an air of self-destructive intent filled her glass again. She raised it to her lips and stopped, standing very still and staring through the lounge door into the hallway.
"What?" asked Rupert.
"Listen."
He concentrated. "Can't hear a thing."
"Come on." Mera left the lounge.
A jumble of blankets lay in the passage outside the door of what had become Spike's Room. Mera had sat there all night, every night, listening to the faint sounds of the demon raging and dreading the thought of Spike's personality gaining control once more. But since that first time he hadn't made another appearance.
They stood beside the door and listened. Finally, Mera stirred. "No. Hell and damnation! I couldn't have imagined it!" She reached for the handle.
At that moment they both heard it: three weak, evenly-spaced knocks against the door. Mera whirled and pointed at Rupert. "Wait!" she said, and ran back up the passage. When she returned she was holding a knife. Rupert blinked at it, but she was already opening the door.
There was no darkness in the little room. Spike lay on the cold concrete floor just on the other side of the threshold. He opened his eyes slowly and tried to look at them but his head weaved on his neck and he let it fall back.
Mera knelt beside him. "Spike, love? You there?"
His lips moved and she put her ear close to his mouth. After a moment she straightened up and raised a hand, saying something unintelligible. There was a brilliant flash that made Rupert blink rapidly and when he could see again, the room was suffused with a rosy glow. Like something reaching out, a thin golden tentacle of light emerged from the glow and touched Spike, following the planes of his face and probing into his hair. Squirming like a live thing, it ran back and forth over his body, leaving brilliant glittering trails on his abused skin. Enthralled, Rupert watched.
The tentacle vanished, taking the glow with it. The trails on Spike's body faded quickly.
Mera jumped to her feet. "It worked!" She pulled a stupefied Rupert into a hug and lifted him off the floor. "It bloody worked! The demon's gone and the Balm worked! Whooo!"
Rupert extracted himself from her crushing grip. "Er - "
"That light would have turned violet the moment it touched him if the demon was still there! It's gone and he's not dust! Oh god, I'm good!"
Rupert gave her a bland smile. "I thought you were all worried about what was going to happen."
Mera looked at him. "We will never," she said firmly. "Ever mention that again. Now, where's that knife?"
"In your hand," said Rupert. "What's it for?"
Mera knelt again and took Spike's left hand, turning it over to expose the wrist. "You don't think I'm going to bite him, do you?"
"Well yes, actually, I did."
Mera made a small cut on Spike's wrist. "No. We don't need to do all that revolting drinking." She jabbed the knife point into the end of her finger.
"I thought you said Path drained you of - "
"Path didn't drink." Mera squeezed a drop of blood from her finger and let it fall into the cut on Spike's wrist. She sat back. "I don't know that vampires have to drink in order to turn someone, but I do know that, for them and us, the candidate needs to be weak - or actually dying in the case of vampires. Now, Path - I was the first person she'd ever turned. She only knew the way of the vampire, so she thought my blood had to be drained, but she didn't want to drink it. Yuk. So she cut my wrist and just let it run out. It wasn't necessary of course, because I was already weak enough." She studied Spike's face. "Now with your vamp, the candidate has to drink, so even though she hadn't drunk mine, she thought I had to drink hers." Mera gagged theatrically. "It was the most disgusting, uneccessary thing I've ever voluntarily done. Agh. She cut her wrist and - again, agh. Afterwards we just looked at each other, waiting for something to happen. There was blood everywhere - mine in a big bowl, and hers all over the place." Spike stirred slightly and she ran a finger down his cheek. "We waited. And waited. Path began to cry. I began to cry. Then I was thoroughly sick, oh god, and I thought I was going to die after all. Finally, very sad, Path picked up my hand and touched my cut wrist with her finger - which happened to be covered in her own blood - and I felt a shock, not unpleasant. God, I'll never forget her eyes. They went so big! We both knew what had happened." Mera laughed. "She spent years apologising for making me drink her blood."
Rupert suddenly realised what he'd seen her do and he pointed at Spike. "You've already done it, haven't you?" he asked in amazement. "You've turned him. Just now."
"Well, yes. Don't have to drain him, he's already weak. And dead. He couldn't be readier. Don't know if it'll take, of course." She shrugged. "Had to do it fast. He was prime vacant property. Anything could have moved in."
Rupert shook his head. "No, I mean - that was it? You cut him, jabbed your finger, let a drop go into his cut, and voila?"
"Well, yes." Mera looked puzzled. "Didn't you hear what I was saying?"
"But it was only a drop!"
"Yes. The smallest drop contains all of me."
Rupert stared at Spike. Was the vampire suddenly no longer a vampire? "What if you had to turn a healthy human?" he asked eventually.
"Healthy?" Mera sucked her bleeding finger. "I'd have to make them weak, of course. Quickest way would be to drain them of some blood." She spoke casually but was very aware of what she was saying to him. "I'd use some local anaesthetic, cut the wrist, let it run for a while and then put a drop of my own in there. Simple and virtually painless."
"And no dying."
"No dying."
Rupert was still staring at Spike. "How will you know if it's worked? If he's turned?"
Spike stirred and opened his eyes again. He looked at Mera and she heard him say faintly, "Am I dead?"
Mera's eyes lit up and with a big, wide smile on her face she slid her arms under his body and hugged him. "No, love. You're one of us."
"Mera?" Rupert asked again. "How will you know?"
"I already know." She looked up at Rupert. "He just spoke to me."
Rupert frowned. "Did he? I didn't hear - oh!"
Mera smiled. "It's worked."
*
After his silent converstion with Mera, Spike passed out. The other two picked up his limp body and carried him upstairs.
"In here." Mera backed into her bathroom.
"Here?" Rupert was suddenly reminded of the time Spike had stayed with him. "What for?" Under Mera's direction he helped put Spike into the bath.
"I'm going to wash all that crap off him." She picked through the bottles on the side of the bath.
"Oh." He turned away. "Well. I'll just wait out - "
Mera grabbed his collar with one hand and pushed a flannel at him with the other. "You'll take the top half is what you'll do," she said firmly. "And I'll - " she narrowed her eyes and smiled. "I'll take the rest."
He laughed. "Has anyone ever told you - "
"Frequently. Now scrub." Humming, Mera set to work.
Rupert looked at the flannel in his hand and thanked whatever gods there were that Spike was unconscious.
*
They put him into Mera's bed; as Mera said, she hadn't slept in there for at least a week so one more night wouldn't make any difference.
"He looks a lot better." Rupert brushed at splashes on his trousers.
Mera studied the tousled head on her pillow. "Yes, he does wash up nicely doesn't he?" She stretched and arched her back. "Okay. I am way overdue for some relaxation. What say I make a meal and we get drunk?"
"Meal first, I think."
*
"I must say, Mera, you're a splendid cook."
"Yes well, if you ain't a good cook after several millennia, what use are you?"
*
Gone, gone, gone, all gone. Freezing fire, gone. Empty, empty, empty
- all the fire, screaming, spitting, raging, glorious, deep, deep
down where it used to be warm before - no choice, no choice - before she
came, madmadmad fire, and turned it all cold and it was so eeeasy, give
it up, give in, give it all over and live for ever and killkillkill and
not your fault nevernever any more.
'Cos you were hidden. And now you're not.
It wasn't my fucking choice. It wasn't my fucking fault. Not my
fault. Not me. William? Pah. Couldn't kill a fly. Mr. Glorious Cold Fire
- he could, but not William. No.
There will be no pathetic I'm-so-upset-at-my-actions asshole showing
his face around here. Because they were not my actions.
It was not me. I know that.
But. Now. It's. All. Gone.
What's in here now? Can I blame it? What am I?
What, what, what can I. Who can I. How can I.
What can I blame now?
*
"Looks like it isn't over yet," said Mera.
Rupert watched the restless, shivering body in the bed. "If I didn't know better I'd say that was drug withdrawal. Or - he's not rejecting you, is he? Your turning him, I mean."
Mera shook her head. "First thing I checked. No, I think you were closer when you said withdrawal. His emotions are completely muddled, nearly impossible to read, but one thing that is getting through is fear."
"What's he got to be afraid of now?"
"Life without his demon?" suggested Mera. "Think about it. For over a century that thing controlled him. He, William, took no responsibility for what he did. To have all that ferocity inside you for so long - imagine what it's like to have it suddenly vanish. I think the word we're looking for here is 'bereft'."
"But why now? The demon hasn't been controlling him for months. He's been behaving like a human."
"Yes. But it was still in there all the time, don't you see? He must have been able to feel it there. It was probably like a continuous growl going on in the back of his mind. He just buried it deep when he was given the chance. God, what an achievement!" She looked at Rupert. "Curse the Initiative all you want, but without them none of this would have happened."
"So you're saying you think he's missing his demon?"
"Yes. There's no getting away from the fact that he's literally on his own now. There's no convenient enemy inside him to whom he can just hand over control and responsibility. From now on, just like me, William takes the blame." She looked surprised. "Gosh, that was deep wasn't it? Forgot myself for a moment there."
"You could be right, though." Rupert watched Spike turn his head, his legs churning. "Can't we do anything about that? Hold him still?"
"We could, but I don't want to restrain him. I think he'll be all right. If he can get through the killing of his demon, he can get through this. I hope." She looked around. "I'll sleep in here, I think."
A sudden thought struck Rupert. "I have to go," he said. "I've made a decision. I'm going to tell Michael - and Quentin if he's back - what's happened. Tell them Spike's no longer a legitimate target." He looked a little grim. "Tell them if any Council member tries anything with him they'll find themselves answering for it to me and Buffy. After what you and he have gone through we don't want some idealistic idiot ruining it all."
Mera grinned. "And if that doesn't move them, tell 'em Path and I protect him now - and if they force Path to bestir herself on his behalf, she'll emerge like the tide of time and come like a pyroclastic flow." She looked pleased with her imagery. "I'm just full of it today, aren't I?"
"Pyroclastic flow," mused Rupert. "Yes, that should do it."
