NOTE: This chapter is considerably more explicit in terms of violence, so
if that sort of thing bothers you, take note. Things will continue to get
worse as we go along, so keep that in mind. Also, for anyone hoping that
this is going to be a B/S friendly story, it is, in a way, but perhaps not
in the ways you might think. I don't like happy endings.
True evil, pure evil, of the sort usually reserved for penny dreadfuls and religious texts, does exist in our world. We face it every day, often not seeing it for what it is. But evil of that sort is actually much rarer than one would expect, given the horrors we of the Council have witnessed. It seems that just as evil hides in even the purest heart, nearly no creature is completely without the capacity to do good. Still, there exist beings for whom good is as alien a concept as those being's existence is for men.
- from the journal of James Trenton, twenty-first chronicler of the Watcher's Council, England, July 2nd, 1675
---
The door to his crypt was ajar when he got there. "Oh, bloody wonderful," he thought, as he approached it carefully. He knew Buffy couldn't have gotten there before him, and the door had been securely shut when he left, so that meant it was either one of her little friends, or one of the nasties he had been hoping to meet up with earlier. He found he was actually hoping it was one of the gang, his meeting with the Slayer had been more exhausting than he'd expected.
He dropped his cigarette and rubbed it out with the heel of his boot before slowly pushing the door open. The interior was dark, darker than it should have been, and he fell instantly into a fighting stance. He entered, all senses alert for signs of danger. "Come on," he thought, moving as quietly as he could through the darkness.
Before he could think or react, the door slammed shut, and he was left in total darkness. Even his enhanced sight couldn't cut through the inky blackness, and he stood, waiting.
"Are you afraid?"
The voice seemed to come from all around him. It was deep, and old, and Spike found that, if just for a moment, he was afraid. Then, like reflex, his attitude kicked in, and he said "Of the dark? Sorry to spoil your fun, mate, but I haven't been afraid of much of anything in well over a hundred years."
There was silence for a moment, then laughter filled the crypt. It was like the sound of thousands of insects crawling across stone, and Spike took a step back towards the door without thinking. "You have no need to be afraid, Spike. Not yet, at least. We want something from you, a task, something that, for you, should be relatively simple."
"Oh yeah?" Spike said, trying to keep the attitude in his voice. "What's that?"
"Something is coming, Spike. Something unlike anything you've ever encountered, or even imagined. Something even worse," it said, a hint of something cold entering it's voice, "than us."
"And who are you?"
"We are ancient, vampire," the voice said dismissively.
Multiple points of light appeared around him, and he realised quickly they were eyes, hundreds of them, glowing blood red in the darkness. "That is all you need to know of us. You were chosen because of your relationship with the Slayer. And because you are well suited to the task."
"We know you will do as we ask," the voice continued, though now Spike realised it was not one voice, but many, speaking in unison. "You will want to. But, that will have to wait. There are other things we must attend to."
"We will speak again soon, vampire. You would do well to inform the Slayer of our visit. Tell her that true evil is coming. Tell her."
With the last word, the unnatural darkness lifted, and Spike was standing in the natural light of the moon. The crypt was seemingly undisturbed, and he was alone. He paused for a moment, then threw open the door and ran out into the night.
---
Buffy returned home to find Tara and Dawn sitting on the couch, watching a movie on TV. "Hi," she said, shrugging off her coat, and inspecting the stain from her earlier fight.
"Y-you're home early. Easy night?" Tara said, standing up and stretching as she did.
"Yeah. Only two tonight. Well, and Spike."
"S-spike? Wha-what did he want?" Tara asked, a look of concern crossing her face. Since Buffy had told her about the last encounter Buffy had had with Spike in the remains of his crypt, she'd been worried what his reaction would be.
"He wanted to help me patrol. Um, Tara, do you think I could talk to you upstairs?"
"Um, s-sure," she said, and added, turning to Dawn, "if you don't mind."
"Slayer stuff?" Dawn asked.
"Something like that."
---
"It was weird. He was all... proper."
Buffy sat on the edge of her bed, absently playing with the corner of her blanket. "I mean, it was like when he promised to protect Dawn. And the way he just took off..."
"Maybe he's really okay with things. You know? Maybe you were worried for nothing," Tara said. "It doesn't sound like anything bad is going on."
"That's what bothers me, I guess. Tara, I hate to admit this, but when he's like this, I... well, I actually kind of like him." Buffy sat for a moment, before continuing, "Maybe he knows that. Maybe it's another trick."
"I don't think so. Buffy, from everything you've told me, it really does sound like he's a lot different than he used to be."
"I know he is. But in a lot of ways he's still the same as ever. Every time I think he's really changed, for good, he says or does something that's just so disgusting."
Tar thought for a moment. "Buffy, he doesn't know anything else. And I hate to be the one to say this, but he doesn't really have anyone to learn from now."
Before Buffy could speak, there was a knock on her door. It opened just far enough for Dawn to stick her head in, and say "I hate to interrupt, but Spike's here. He says he has to talk to you." She looked down, and said "Buffy, he seems really upset."
"Great. Just what I need." Buffy shook her head, and looked at Tara. "I'll be right back."
---
"This had better be good."
Spike reached into his coat and took out his cigarettes. "Can we talk outside? I'm afraid I need this right now."
Buffy shook her head. "Why not?'
On the porch, Spike lit his cigarette, and turned to look at Buffy. "I had a visitor in my crypt. Or should I say visitors?" Spike said, before taking a deep drag. His hand shook slightly as he held the cigarette to his lips.
"What's going on Spike?"
He laughed, and took another drag. "In all the time since I was turned, I haven't really been afraid of anything or anyone. But this thing, Buffy," he paused, trying to steady himself before continuing, "it wasn't like anything I've ever seen before. Its voice was enough to send me running. And those eyes," he stopped, and Buffy crossed her arms, a look of concern clouding her face.
"Calm down. Come on, is this anyway for a Big Bad to act?" she asked, forcing a smile.
Spike looked up at her, and laughed. "No, I guess not. It just caught me off guard, I guess."
"It wanted me to tell you that true evil is coming. Evil worse than whatever the thing was in my crypt. You'll understand if I'm bloody well shaken, considering how bad the visitor was." He took another drag, and Buffy noticed his hands were no longer shaking. "It also said there is something else it wants me to do, but left before it could tell me what that is. Buffy, I won't do anything that would hurt you or the Bit, but I get the feeling that I don't have a choice in the matter. It even said I would want to do what it asked."
"Okay... what did it look like? Maybe we can..."
Spike interrupted before she could finish. "I didn't actually see it. Not all of it at least. It was too dark in my crypt. But I did see its... their eyes. They were everywhere."
"You keep saying 'their'. Was there more than one?"
Spike shook his head, "I don't know. When it spoke, it was like hundreds of voices talking all at once."
"Sheesh, give me something else to have nightmares about tonight, Spike."
Spike tossed his cigarette out into the yard, and smiled. Without looking up, he said "Imagine how I'm feeling right now."
---
The field was silent. Bodies lay everywhere, both human and demon, and the smell of blood hung in the air like smoke. A golden-haired woman stood amongst the carnage. She turned, startled, as an inhuman shriek rent the air. In the distance, she saw a man being carried by... something. She ran toward it, and the man screamed again, fighting against the thing that held him in clawed hands. As she got closer, she saw that the thing's skin was covered with wicked-looking barbs, and that the man it held was not a man at all, but a vampire. The thing periodically lifted the vampire, and bit large chunks out of him. Half the vampire's torso was gone, and the girl could see its exposed heart. The flesh of his face had been torn away, and bone glistened wetly in the moonlight. The thing brought the vampire up one last time, and viciously tore out its heart. A look of relief passed across the vampire's face before it turned to dust.
The barbed demon turned, and smiled as it noticed the girl. The smile continued to widen until the creature's face was nearly split in two, revealing jagged teeth that tore the creature's lips as they moved.
As it moved toward her, she searched desperately for a weapon, her eyes falling on large axe imbedded in the ground. she grabbed it, and moved to the side, naturally falling into the rythym of battle.
The thing charged, and she dodged to the side, barely avoiding its claws. It swung one arm toward her, and she ducked, swinging the axe up. The blade grazed its side, shearing off several of its barbs, but she was forced back as its other hand reached for her. She crouched, and as the thing charged her again, she swung the axe at its leg. The axe landed with a meaty thunk, and the creature howled in pain. Before she could pull the weapon free, the thing grabbed it in one hand, while swiping at her with the other. She tried to roll away, but the thing managed to rake its claws across her shoulder. She moved backwards quickly, checking the wound. It was deep, and she couldn't move her arm. The creature managed to tear the axe free, and started to move toward her again, but stopped. Its mouth opened and closed, and a thick, black liquid poured from between its lips. The girl noticed the hilt of a knife, jutting out from its throat, before the thing fell backwards.
"Who's there," the woman said, turning to see a badly burned man, his arm still extended, lying on the ground behind her.
"Not very sporting, but then, I never was known to play fair." The voice was familiar, and her mouth opened in shock. The man laughed, the laugh turning into a fit of coughing. He tried to rise, but his arms gave out. The woman ran to him, and helped him turn over. He look up at her, his blue eyes being the only thing left that she recognised in his face.
"Welcome to my nightmare, Slayer. At least, this time, I was able to save you." Another coughing fit shook him, and she looked to see numerous, deep wounds on his chest. His clothing was in tatters, and spattered with gore.
"I love you," he said, as his body began to crumble. Moments later, a fine sifting of dust fell to the bloody earth, and she was alone again.
Buffy looked up, and saw more of the barbed demons, hundreds, thousands, moving across the field toward her. Just as the first reached her, she awoke, and sat up.
"Just a dream. Only a dream," she said to herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The sheets were soaked with sweat, and she threw them off her. She sat, staring out her window, as sunlight streamed in.
"A dream..."
---
In the blackened remains of a crypt, a vampire woke, tears streaming down his face, as he told himself the same thing.
---
True evil, pure evil, of the sort usually reserved for penny dreadfuls and religious texts, does exist in our world. We face it every day, often not seeing it for what it is. But evil of that sort is actually much rarer than one would expect, given the horrors we of the Council have witnessed. It seems that just as evil hides in even the purest heart, nearly no creature is completely without the capacity to do good. Still, there exist beings for whom good is as alien a concept as those being's existence is for men.
- from the journal of James Trenton, twenty-first chronicler of the Watcher's Council, England, July 2nd, 1675
---
The door to his crypt was ajar when he got there. "Oh, bloody wonderful," he thought, as he approached it carefully. He knew Buffy couldn't have gotten there before him, and the door had been securely shut when he left, so that meant it was either one of her little friends, or one of the nasties he had been hoping to meet up with earlier. He found he was actually hoping it was one of the gang, his meeting with the Slayer had been more exhausting than he'd expected.
He dropped his cigarette and rubbed it out with the heel of his boot before slowly pushing the door open. The interior was dark, darker than it should have been, and he fell instantly into a fighting stance. He entered, all senses alert for signs of danger. "Come on," he thought, moving as quietly as he could through the darkness.
Before he could think or react, the door slammed shut, and he was left in total darkness. Even his enhanced sight couldn't cut through the inky blackness, and he stood, waiting.
"Are you afraid?"
The voice seemed to come from all around him. It was deep, and old, and Spike found that, if just for a moment, he was afraid. Then, like reflex, his attitude kicked in, and he said "Of the dark? Sorry to spoil your fun, mate, but I haven't been afraid of much of anything in well over a hundred years."
There was silence for a moment, then laughter filled the crypt. It was like the sound of thousands of insects crawling across stone, and Spike took a step back towards the door without thinking. "You have no need to be afraid, Spike. Not yet, at least. We want something from you, a task, something that, for you, should be relatively simple."
"Oh yeah?" Spike said, trying to keep the attitude in his voice. "What's that?"
"Something is coming, Spike. Something unlike anything you've ever encountered, or even imagined. Something even worse," it said, a hint of something cold entering it's voice, "than us."
"And who are you?"
"We are ancient, vampire," the voice said dismissively.
Multiple points of light appeared around him, and he realised quickly they were eyes, hundreds of them, glowing blood red in the darkness. "That is all you need to know of us. You were chosen because of your relationship with the Slayer. And because you are well suited to the task."
"We know you will do as we ask," the voice continued, though now Spike realised it was not one voice, but many, speaking in unison. "You will want to. But, that will have to wait. There are other things we must attend to."
"We will speak again soon, vampire. You would do well to inform the Slayer of our visit. Tell her that true evil is coming. Tell her."
With the last word, the unnatural darkness lifted, and Spike was standing in the natural light of the moon. The crypt was seemingly undisturbed, and he was alone. He paused for a moment, then threw open the door and ran out into the night.
---
Buffy returned home to find Tara and Dawn sitting on the couch, watching a movie on TV. "Hi," she said, shrugging off her coat, and inspecting the stain from her earlier fight.
"Y-you're home early. Easy night?" Tara said, standing up and stretching as she did.
"Yeah. Only two tonight. Well, and Spike."
"S-spike? Wha-what did he want?" Tara asked, a look of concern crossing her face. Since Buffy had told her about the last encounter Buffy had had with Spike in the remains of his crypt, she'd been worried what his reaction would be.
"He wanted to help me patrol. Um, Tara, do you think I could talk to you upstairs?"
"Um, s-sure," she said, and added, turning to Dawn, "if you don't mind."
"Slayer stuff?" Dawn asked.
"Something like that."
---
"It was weird. He was all... proper."
Buffy sat on the edge of her bed, absently playing with the corner of her blanket. "I mean, it was like when he promised to protect Dawn. And the way he just took off..."
"Maybe he's really okay with things. You know? Maybe you were worried for nothing," Tara said. "It doesn't sound like anything bad is going on."
"That's what bothers me, I guess. Tara, I hate to admit this, but when he's like this, I... well, I actually kind of like him." Buffy sat for a moment, before continuing, "Maybe he knows that. Maybe it's another trick."
"I don't think so. Buffy, from everything you've told me, it really does sound like he's a lot different than he used to be."
"I know he is. But in a lot of ways he's still the same as ever. Every time I think he's really changed, for good, he says or does something that's just so disgusting."
Tar thought for a moment. "Buffy, he doesn't know anything else. And I hate to be the one to say this, but he doesn't really have anyone to learn from now."
Before Buffy could speak, there was a knock on her door. It opened just far enough for Dawn to stick her head in, and say "I hate to interrupt, but Spike's here. He says he has to talk to you." She looked down, and said "Buffy, he seems really upset."
"Great. Just what I need." Buffy shook her head, and looked at Tara. "I'll be right back."
---
"This had better be good."
Spike reached into his coat and took out his cigarettes. "Can we talk outside? I'm afraid I need this right now."
Buffy shook her head. "Why not?'
On the porch, Spike lit his cigarette, and turned to look at Buffy. "I had a visitor in my crypt. Or should I say visitors?" Spike said, before taking a deep drag. His hand shook slightly as he held the cigarette to his lips.
"What's going on Spike?"
He laughed, and took another drag. "In all the time since I was turned, I haven't really been afraid of anything or anyone. But this thing, Buffy," he paused, trying to steady himself before continuing, "it wasn't like anything I've ever seen before. Its voice was enough to send me running. And those eyes," he stopped, and Buffy crossed her arms, a look of concern clouding her face.
"Calm down. Come on, is this anyway for a Big Bad to act?" she asked, forcing a smile.
Spike looked up at her, and laughed. "No, I guess not. It just caught me off guard, I guess."
"It wanted me to tell you that true evil is coming. Evil worse than whatever the thing was in my crypt. You'll understand if I'm bloody well shaken, considering how bad the visitor was." He took another drag, and Buffy noticed his hands were no longer shaking. "It also said there is something else it wants me to do, but left before it could tell me what that is. Buffy, I won't do anything that would hurt you or the Bit, but I get the feeling that I don't have a choice in the matter. It even said I would want to do what it asked."
"Okay... what did it look like? Maybe we can..."
Spike interrupted before she could finish. "I didn't actually see it. Not all of it at least. It was too dark in my crypt. But I did see its... their eyes. They were everywhere."
"You keep saying 'their'. Was there more than one?"
Spike shook his head, "I don't know. When it spoke, it was like hundreds of voices talking all at once."
"Sheesh, give me something else to have nightmares about tonight, Spike."
Spike tossed his cigarette out into the yard, and smiled. Without looking up, he said "Imagine how I'm feeling right now."
---
The field was silent. Bodies lay everywhere, both human and demon, and the smell of blood hung in the air like smoke. A golden-haired woman stood amongst the carnage. She turned, startled, as an inhuman shriek rent the air. In the distance, she saw a man being carried by... something. She ran toward it, and the man screamed again, fighting against the thing that held him in clawed hands. As she got closer, she saw that the thing's skin was covered with wicked-looking barbs, and that the man it held was not a man at all, but a vampire. The thing periodically lifted the vampire, and bit large chunks out of him. Half the vampire's torso was gone, and the girl could see its exposed heart. The flesh of his face had been torn away, and bone glistened wetly in the moonlight. The thing brought the vampire up one last time, and viciously tore out its heart. A look of relief passed across the vampire's face before it turned to dust.
The barbed demon turned, and smiled as it noticed the girl. The smile continued to widen until the creature's face was nearly split in two, revealing jagged teeth that tore the creature's lips as they moved.
As it moved toward her, she searched desperately for a weapon, her eyes falling on large axe imbedded in the ground. she grabbed it, and moved to the side, naturally falling into the rythym of battle.
The thing charged, and she dodged to the side, barely avoiding its claws. It swung one arm toward her, and she ducked, swinging the axe up. The blade grazed its side, shearing off several of its barbs, but she was forced back as its other hand reached for her. She crouched, and as the thing charged her again, she swung the axe at its leg. The axe landed with a meaty thunk, and the creature howled in pain. Before she could pull the weapon free, the thing grabbed it in one hand, while swiping at her with the other. She tried to roll away, but the thing managed to rake its claws across her shoulder. She moved backwards quickly, checking the wound. It was deep, and she couldn't move her arm. The creature managed to tear the axe free, and started to move toward her again, but stopped. Its mouth opened and closed, and a thick, black liquid poured from between its lips. The girl noticed the hilt of a knife, jutting out from its throat, before the thing fell backwards.
"Who's there," the woman said, turning to see a badly burned man, his arm still extended, lying on the ground behind her.
"Not very sporting, but then, I never was known to play fair." The voice was familiar, and her mouth opened in shock. The man laughed, the laugh turning into a fit of coughing. He tried to rise, but his arms gave out. The woman ran to him, and helped him turn over. He look up at her, his blue eyes being the only thing left that she recognised in his face.
"Welcome to my nightmare, Slayer. At least, this time, I was able to save you." Another coughing fit shook him, and she looked to see numerous, deep wounds on his chest. His clothing was in tatters, and spattered with gore.
"I love you," he said, as his body began to crumble. Moments later, a fine sifting of dust fell to the bloody earth, and she was alone again.
Buffy looked up, and saw more of the barbed demons, hundreds, thousands, moving across the field toward her. Just as the first reached her, she awoke, and sat up.
"Just a dream. Only a dream," she said to herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The sheets were soaked with sweat, and she threw them off her. She sat, staring out her window, as sunlight streamed in.
"A dream..."
---
In the blackened remains of a crypt, a vampire woke, tears streaming down his face, as he told himself the same thing.
---