Rain pounded the roof of the old mansion, wind shook the window pains and
lightning flashed in the sky. Wesley and Cordelia sat together on his bed,
nervous and uncomfortable.
"Cordelia, we don't have - um - I forgot to buy -" Wesley blushed furiously.
"That is - I don't normally k-keep -"
"Don't worry." said Cordelia. "I picked some up in the city."
"Oh." Wesley took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. "This is
a bit -"
"Scary?"
"Yes."
"Why? We love each other, and we trust each other and we've both done this
before."
"But not together." Wesley reminded her. They both studied the oriental carpet
as if they were experts on the Antiques Roadshow. "If you're feeling
p-pressured, we don't have to..."
"Pressured? I'm not the one who's stuttering here, pal." Cordy giggled
nervously. "Sorry, that came out kinda mean, huh?"
"I'm used to it by now. Your incredible lack of tact, I mean."
"Oh, Stop!" Cordelia laughed and shoved him playfully. Wesley shoved her back
and they ended up *play wrestling* on the bed. Cordelia was straddling him as
Wesley lay on his back, her hands pinning his wrists to the mattress.
"Well, I believe you've got me where you want me, Miss Chase." Wesley teased.
"Please be gentle!"
"Oh no, Honey, You're in for hours of horrible torture. But first, let me tell
you my evil plan."
"No! Please No! Please don't make me listen to you talk!"
Cordy shifted a little and suddenly blushed.
"Uh - Baby likes this game, doesn't he?"
Wesley got flustered again.
"I - I - Cordelia, if you continue to wiggle, I won't know what to do with
myself!"
"Did you want to be on top?" She asked generously. "'Cause I'm pretty much torn
between taking charge, and making you do all the work."
"Why don't we see where we end up?" Wesley suggested. Cordelia reached her hands
down, unzipped his trousors and slipped her hand inside. An expression of
pleased suprise crossed her face.
"Helllooo Sailor..." She murmured.
******
Faith wandered around the house, listening to the storm outside. She hadn't
slept through a thunderstorm since she was five and they lived in Revere and
she'd believed her cousin Bryan when he told her the house was going to be swept
into the Atlantic. And being a Slayer had made her a lighter sleeper, you had to
be on your guard.
She found herself in some kind of library. There were tons of books, from the
titles they were mostly about demons and vampires. Some photo albums, Faith took
one down and opened it.
Pictures of Wesley's mom and dad at much younger ages, pictures of a bunch of
people who must have been Wyndham-Pryces, they all had that same tall dark
stuffiness about them. There were pictures of a dark haired boy, who resembled
Wes but sturdier, with another little boy who couldn't have been anyone else but
Wesley. In this picture he seemed about six and was missing his two front teeth.
The other boy looked close to thirteen, Wesley was looking up at him like he was
a god.
*And one day this innoccent little boy was going to learn what it felt like to
be tied up and stabbed with pieces of broken glass.*
*And the older brother he worshipped was going to be killed by vampires one
random night, the same vampires they were all more or less friends with now.*
Life was wicked strange.
"How do you feel?" Emma asked Buffy morosely.
"No pain," Buffy giggled. "Lotsa druugss. Wheerrrre am I?"
"The Council Infirmary. We've all been taken into *protective custody*."
Buffy got serious.
"Oh, no, oh no no no...Where's Spike? Where's Darla? Is Dawn okay?"
"Dawn's fine. They took Spike and Darla but I don't know where."
Buffy gestured dramatically with her hands.
"Call Angel! You have to call Angel now!"
"I will, I'll use the pay phone in the downstairs lobby. I can go anywhere I
want as long as I don't leave this building."
Spike awoke with a pounding headache, among other things. His world was dark and
cold and his arms were pinned tightly against a hard stone wall. Spike tried to
lift them, and discovered that his wrists were chained. The air reeked of blood
(both demon and human) and mildew. Everything hurt, although he was healing
rapidly from his various cuts and bruises. His internal clock told him it had
been almost a night since the kidnapping. A door opened and a sliver of
artificial light made a patch on the stone floor. Someone entered, male, by his
shape and smell. The stranger avoided the patch of light, making sure that Spike
could not see where he might be standing.
"Good evening, William."
"Sod off."
His captor laughed, a low, deep chuckle that indicated some level of madness.
"You are not in any position to be rude, young man."
"Oh, you haven't seen rude yet. And I'm pretty sure I'm older than you."
"Yes, yes, good point. Your adolescent appearance belies your true years. Very
helpful when hunting for prey, I would assume. Lonely old women, perverted older
men, boy crazy little girls, other teenagers, they all fell for it, didn't
they?"
"Well, yeah. "Spike admitted. "Gonna tell me what you did with my friends?"
"Miss Summers and Miss Summers are quite safe. The elder Miss Summers is being
treated at our infirmary for her wounds, and the younger has been taken into the
protective custody of the Council."
"And Em?"
"My daughter is much safer now that I have removed her from your influence and
the influence of her brother and his friends."
"Darla?"
He laughed again.
"Never you mind about her. Shall we begin?" And Spike heard a rustling in the
darkness, then the tinkling of something metal and he felt a rare shiver of
fear.
Wesley, Cordy and Faith met Angel at the gates to the compound.
"PLEASE STATE YOUR PASSWORD AND EMPLOYEE ID NUMBER" A tiny speaker near the gate
squeaked.
"Blue. 8203457." Wesley recited his father's ID number, which he'd been forced
to learn as a child in case he forgot his own. His own number had probably been
removed from the records when he was sacked.
The huge, gothic iron gates creaked open and the group passed through into the
courtyard. The layout of the compound was bizzare, some buildings dating from
the 13th centaury, and other buildings bieng much newer. It looked like a
college, with students running by, arms full of books.
"Emma called, from somewhere, she wouldn't say where." Wesley explained. "She
sounded absoulutly hysterical. Saying my father had Darla and Spike. Then she
seemed to get cut off..."
"How did you know she'd be here?" Angel questioned.
"Our mobile phones have Caller ID." Wesley smiled patiently. Angel looked
embarrassed.
"Still can't get the hang of these things." The vampire mumbled. "Where would he
take them, on campus I mean? Not some place where any student or uninvolved
Watcher might see them, right?"
"There's an old training facility out in the woods." Wesley said. "It's hardly
used at all anymore."
"It's worth a shot." Angel agreed. "How do we get there?"
"A dirt path, you have to walk. It's really, really not used anymore."
"Let's go!"
"Faith, would you and Cordelia see if you can find out where they might be
keeping Buffy and Dawn? It will be in a place that's less hidden, possibly even
the guest wing of the main building?"
"Sure." said Faith. "Give me the girlie job, why doncha?"
Blood trickled down Spike's neck. Wyndham-Pryce studied him, searching for a new
place for his small exacto knife to cut.
"Are we having fun yet?" He asked. "Are we enjoying this little taste of our own
medicine?"
"You're insane!" Spike growled. "You're a bloody nutcase."
"Perhaps I am. I'll give you points for that." He smiled coldly. "If only my own
sons had been as smart as you." He stabbed again and Spike tried not to cry out.
"Oh, don't hold it in. It's just you and I, you don't need to be manly about it.
Scream as much as you'd like, no one who hears will care."
"Why?" Spike asked hoarsley. "I mean, I know why, but why?"
"You killed my family." Wyndham-Pryce said simply. "And many many others, yet
you have yet to experiance any consequences. There are always conseqences,
always punishments, always room for vengence."
Spike screamed as his torturer poured holy water over his arms. It soaked
through the fabric of his black t-shirt and began to burn him.
"AHHHHHHH!"
"It seems I've cracked your unfeeling, tough exterior? The Slayer of Slayers is
learning what it's like to be on the other side? Are you going to beg and plead
for your life as so many of your victims did?"
"You'd love that, wouldn't you. Break me, see me beg. It's fun, isn't it, that
feeling of control? Having some helpless person at your mercy. That intoxicating
scent of fear. The screams."
"Stop that!" Wesley's father grabbed a cross off a table and pressed it to
Spike's chest. "I'm doing this for my son. I loved him!"
"Do you know your way around this place?" Angel asked. Wesley opened the door
and stepped inside the dusty main corridor.
"Slightly." said Wesley. "We had to come here for our physical final exams
before graduation. An endurance test. There are dungeons in the basement,
they've been here since the twelfth centaury, I believe."
"Guys! Wait!" Buffy hissed. Faith was carefully helping her through the broken
window. "You're not doing this by yourselves."
"You should be resting." Angel admonished.
"I'm the Slayer." said Buffy, spreading her arms out wide and wobbling a bit.
"I'm already healed, see?"
"She insisted." Faith explained as she casually put out an arm to steady her
sister Slayer. "Short of knockin' her unconcious, I couldn't stop her."
"Dawn and Em are with Cordy in the car. They're going up to the main building to
find someone who's in charge and to get help." said Buffy. She shared a secret
smile with Faith. "Emma can definetly handle this one."
A man's scream cut through the silence of the ancient building, it came from the
basement.
"That was Spike!" Angel and Buffy said in unison. Buffy ran toward the stairs.
The look on her face was one Angel reminded himself to ask her about later - if
they all got through this.
Angel stopped and sniffed the air.
"I smell her. I smell her - she's down this hallway, and she's terrified." said
Angel. He ran in the direction of Darla's scent and Wesley followed him.
Spike knew he'd hit a nerve, and pushed it to his advantage.
"Oh you did did you? It's always seemed to me that parents who love their
children treat them better."
"I never mistreated my children!"
Spike blinked at him.
"Oh, of course not. And here, silly me believed Collin when he told me that you
beat him occasionally, made a habit out of locking him in the closet and
regularly insulted him."
"It was all done in the name of discipline. You must take a firm hand with
children.
"And then apparently taking out your frustrations and grief on your younger boy,
well - the little brat deserved it, didn't he? The nerve of him to be born! How
dare he insert himself into your life and attempt to grow up!"
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Wyndham-Pryce shouted.
"No, I don't have much first hand knowlege of your domestic situation. After
all, I only spent a lot more time with your Collin than you did. And Darla tells
me that Wesley still has nightmares about the closet. Cordelia has backed the
story up and so has Angel." Spike remembered to keep his cool, it would make him
seem like the reasonable one. "And although you've studied my family
extensively, you really know nothing about us. If you did, you would know that
Angelus could also be quite - tyranical at times - and I know whereof I speak
when I speak of these situations."
And add a little *William* speak to make him sound more mature.
"I wanted them to be the best - I want them to be the best. There's no room for
childhood in that. There's no room to be lax."
"I know, I know." Spike said soothingly. "It's hard."
"We'll pick this up later!" Wyndham-Pryce snarled, attempting to regain the
ground he'd lost. He turned and stormed out, slamming the heavy iron door. Spike
let out an uneeded breath and slumped against the wall.
Angel and Wesley ran through what seemed like an endless maze of corridors. The
whole place was like a small sparsley furnished castle, that had also once
served time as a school. It had both combinations of horrible smells, musty,
wet, woodsy, bloody, and also the smell of rubber erasers, bologna sandwhiches,
sweatsocks and paint. Wesley hadn't smelled it in about four years and now it
made him gag.
Angel heard footsteps and pulled Wesley into an alcove. Two Watchers, both men
in their thirties, walked by.
"I really don't know about this." Watcher Number One said.
"They're vampires." Number Two sounded as if he were talking to an idiot. "Two
less makes the world a better place. All that crap about *souls* and *chips* is
just a myth."
"I feel guilty." Number One said quietly. "When I picked her up, she was so
small, and she looked like a kid or something, and I thought - What if His
Lordship is wrong, and they do have souls? Then I'd be a murderer!"
"I think you might be too soft for this career. Maybe you should look into
becoming a PETA volunteer or something. They're animals. Vicious, violent,
selfish animals, that's what vampires are."
"And he was so small too... I mean, someone called William The Bloody, you'd
think he'd be bigger. But he was so little and breakable. And they look like
each other, they look like family."
"Well, if you're thinking of betraying your calling, do it now. Because when the
sun rises today, Darla's cell will have nothing but dust on the floor. Although
- and you didn't hear this from me, I think His Lordship's gonna keep the other
one alive as long as possible, just for fun."
They passed around the corner, still arguing. Wesley and Angel stepped out from
the alcove.
"Darla's cell will have nothing but dust on the floor." Angel murmured.
"She'll be in one that's facing East then." Wesley surmised. "That's on this
side of the building."
Angel followed him as he ran in the direction of the ground floor rooms. Wesley
got there first, and his heart sank at what he found.
A heavy metal door, solid in the middle, with bars on top and bottom to provide
a view inside. The room was large and airy, and without electric lights. Darla
was lying on her back, chained by her ankles and wrists to the floor. The moon
shone through the gigantic window, floor length green curtains drawn back to let
in the most natural light.
"Darla!" Angel cried. He went to break down the door and leapt back, gasping in
agony.
"The door is blessed." Darla said almost dully. "These guys think of everything,
don't they."
"That's not gonna stop me from getting you out!"
"Don't be stupid, Angelus."
"Darla, we're going to get you out." Wesley insisted. "How much time do we
have?"
"Oh, I don't know, about three hours." She snapped. "Please, both of you, just
go!"
"I said I'd never leave you and I meant it!" said Angel. "We have three hours,
we'll think of something, I promise."
Wesley didn't have much hope for that, he pressed his forhead against the cold
stone and cursed his father silently.
"What's the next step?" Spike tried to recall. "Oh - yeah. Humanize yourself to
your captor."
Wyndham-Pryce reentered the room an hour or two later, this time bearing a long
thin stick with a wooden cross on the end. He dipped it into a bucket of holy
water and struck Spike with it.
"AHHHHHH!" The vampire screamed again. *Okay, time to save your skin.*
"I had a good relationship with my father." He said. "Of course, we hardly spent
any time together. My mother, on the other hand, I was very close to. I didn't
have a brother or sister. Spent a lot of time by myself when I was younger. I
liked to write poetry, although frankly, it sucked. I attended University, where
I met Cecily for the first time. She was truly beautiful, and I had never before
dared to speak my feelings to her." He proceeded to tell the entire story, of
Cecily shooting him down, of running into the street in tears, of tearing up his
poems, of meeting Drusilla, of dying. "You should be writing this down.
Pyschology of the vampire or what have you."
"I have no interest in what you have to say. Did you think you might somehow
convince me to let you go by proving that you are just as human as I am? You're
not. You're a demon who has no conscience, no morals, no capacity for sympathy
yourself, why do you expect it from others?"
"Because you're human!" Spike cried in frustration. "You know the difference
between right and wrong. You do have a conscience. That's the big diff between
humans and vampires, humans have an inclination to do good. YOU'RE human. I'm a
vampire. Now, since I've had this chip I've learned a lot about thinking about
others before myself. I've learned all about not doing things because you think
you're going to get something, but doing it because you're supposed to. I've
learned about love, and about how strong some friendships can be. I think I've
come close to gaining back some of my humanity in the last year, and now it
seems I'm to watch you lose yours. That is, if you ever had it in the first
place."
Wyndham-Pryce struck him again. Then he looked toward the shaft of sunlight
streaming in through the tiny cell window.
"Well, well well. It seems the sun is coming up. If you'd like to say any
prayers for your grandmother, now would be the time to start. I know your
particular order has some traditions. If you would like me to leave you alone
while you do it?"
"I was never very religious." Spike said reflectively. "But I would like the
opportunity to grieve in private, if you don't mind."
"You know, Angelus? I've died three times now."
"I bet there's no one else in the world who can say that." Angel agreed. He was
sitting cross legged on the floor, if he stretched his hand through the bars he
could just touch her fingers. Wesley had gone to look for something to break
down the door with.
"Not even Jesus." Darla mused. "That feels wrong, that I should get to be so
special when even Our Lord only died once."
"But you're not getting crowds of people, and a trial and a place in history and
a crown of thorns." Angel reminded her.
"Yeah," Darla laughed sadly. "All my deaths have been little, private ones. No
one saw me come in, and no one's going to see me leave."
"I'm here." said Angel. "Wes is here. You're not going to be alone."
"No, you don't understand. I don't even exist, I've died so many times I don't
even think I'm the same girl anymore. When - when I'm gone, there'll be no body.
There'll be dust, and that dust will blow away in the wind and I'll be gone
forever, Angelus." She shook her blonde head emphatically. "And I won't be
brought back again."
"Don't say that!"
"I'm tired. I've lived a long, long life, most of it on borrowed time. And I'm
tired. Nothing changes, the world hasn't changed in 426 years. I keep living my
lives, hoping that this one'll stick, that I can do it right this time and I
never do."
"I'll help you, when we get you out, I promise I'll help! You've been doing so
well."
"You're so good to me, Angel. Too good, considering all the ways I've screwed
you over since we've known each other. You're my only legacy, that's why you
need to know something..."
******
Buffy ran down the halls, trying doors and breaking down others. She found
herself getting deeper and deeper underground, the stones on the walls looked
older with each level she went down. Buffy heard the sound of gently lapping
water as she passed some moss covered walls. There was a door, a wooden door
that seemed bizzarely out of place so far underground. It was locked, so Buffy
broke it down. The tiny room was dark, almost pitch black if not for the shaft
of sunlight coming from one window very high up on the wall. She could see that
it had been made into a sort of makeshift cell, complete with manacles and a
table of sharp objects for torture.
Then she saw him. Spike, chained to the wall, blood soaking through his clothes
and covered with burns.
"Spike? Spike, what happened?"
"Slayer?" He mumbled weakly. The vampire tried to move, and winced, closing his
eyes against the pain. "Oh, Bloody Hell."
Buffy cast around for something to break his chains with, finally setting eyes
on a rusty old battle axe in a dark corner. As Buffy approached him, Spike
closed his eyes again, swallowed hard, and for the first time Buffy saw there
were tearstains on his cheeks.
"You won, Betty." Spike said hoarsely. "O'course, you 'ad a little help, but
congratulations."
Buffy swung the axe, it connected with his chains with a satisfying *clunk*.
"What are you doing?" Spike asked after he had watched her in silence for a few
moments.
"I have no idea." Buffy admitted as his chains snapped off. Spike fell forward,
and Buffy had to catch him to keep him from hitting the floor. "C'mon, let's get
out of here."
Arms around each other's waists, they limped up the stairs.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a super hero, you know that?" said Spike. "It took
you SEVEN WHOLE HOURS to find me."
"And you're a pathetic excuse for a villain. You NEEDED me to come rescue you!"
"Shut up, Slayer Come Lately."
"Mr. Impotent."
"Bimbo."
"Loser."
"Bitch."
"Bastard."
"Ho."
"Berk!"
"Oooohhh... Getting your insults from Giles now, huh?"
lightning flashed in the sky. Wesley and Cordelia sat together on his bed,
nervous and uncomfortable.
"Cordelia, we don't have - um - I forgot to buy -" Wesley blushed furiously.
"That is - I don't normally k-keep -"
"Don't worry." said Cordelia. "I picked some up in the city."
"Oh." Wesley took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. "This is
a bit -"
"Scary?"
"Yes."
"Why? We love each other, and we trust each other and we've both done this
before."
"But not together." Wesley reminded her. They both studied the oriental carpet
as if they were experts on the Antiques Roadshow. "If you're feeling
p-pressured, we don't have to..."
"Pressured? I'm not the one who's stuttering here, pal." Cordy giggled
nervously. "Sorry, that came out kinda mean, huh?"
"I'm used to it by now. Your incredible lack of tact, I mean."
"Oh, Stop!" Cordelia laughed and shoved him playfully. Wesley shoved her back
and they ended up *play wrestling* on the bed. Cordelia was straddling him as
Wesley lay on his back, her hands pinning his wrists to the mattress.
"Well, I believe you've got me where you want me, Miss Chase." Wesley teased.
"Please be gentle!"
"Oh no, Honey, You're in for hours of horrible torture. But first, let me tell
you my evil plan."
"No! Please No! Please don't make me listen to you talk!"
Cordy shifted a little and suddenly blushed.
"Uh - Baby likes this game, doesn't he?"
Wesley got flustered again.
"I - I - Cordelia, if you continue to wiggle, I won't know what to do with
myself!"
"Did you want to be on top?" She asked generously. "'Cause I'm pretty much torn
between taking charge, and making you do all the work."
"Why don't we see where we end up?" Wesley suggested. Cordelia reached her hands
down, unzipped his trousors and slipped her hand inside. An expression of
pleased suprise crossed her face.
"Helllooo Sailor..." She murmured.
******
Faith wandered around the house, listening to the storm outside. She hadn't
slept through a thunderstorm since she was five and they lived in Revere and
she'd believed her cousin Bryan when he told her the house was going to be swept
into the Atlantic. And being a Slayer had made her a lighter sleeper, you had to
be on your guard.
She found herself in some kind of library. There were tons of books, from the
titles they were mostly about demons and vampires. Some photo albums, Faith took
one down and opened it.
Pictures of Wesley's mom and dad at much younger ages, pictures of a bunch of
people who must have been Wyndham-Pryces, they all had that same tall dark
stuffiness about them. There were pictures of a dark haired boy, who resembled
Wes but sturdier, with another little boy who couldn't have been anyone else but
Wesley. In this picture he seemed about six and was missing his two front teeth.
The other boy looked close to thirteen, Wesley was looking up at him like he was
a god.
*And one day this innoccent little boy was going to learn what it felt like to
be tied up and stabbed with pieces of broken glass.*
*And the older brother he worshipped was going to be killed by vampires one
random night, the same vampires they were all more or less friends with now.*
Life was wicked strange.
"How do you feel?" Emma asked Buffy morosely.
"No pain," Buffy giggled. "Lotsa druugss. Wheerrrre am I?"
"The Council Infirmary. We've all been taken into *protective custody*."
Buffy got serious.
"Oh, no, oh no no no...Where's Spike? Where's Darla? Is Dawn okay?"
"Dawn's fine. They took Spike and Darla but I don't know where."
Buffy gestured dramatically with her hands.
"Call Angel! You have to call Angel now!"
"I will, I'll use the pay phone in the downstairs lobby. I can go anywhere I
want as long as I don't leave this building."
Spike awoke with a pounding headache, among other things. His world was dark and
cold and his arms were pinned tightly against a hard stone wall. Spike tried to
lift them, and discovered that his wrists were chained. The air reeked of blood
(both demon and human) and mildew. Everything hurt, although he was healing
rapidly from his various cuts and bruises. His internal clock told him it had
been almost a night since the kidnapping. A door opened and a sliver of
artificial light made a patch on the stone floor. Someone entered, male, by his
shape and smell. The stranger avoided the patch of light, making sure that Spike
could not see where he might be standing.
"Good evening, William."
"Sod off."
His captor laughed, a low, deep chuckle that indicated some level of madness.
"You are not in any position to be rude, young man."
"Oh, you haven't seen rude yet. And I'm pretty sure I'm older than you."
"Yes, yes, good point. Your adolescent appearance belies your true years. Very
helpful when hunting for prey, I would assume. Lonely old women, perverted older
men, boy crazy little girls, other teenagers, they all fell for it, didn't
they?"
"Well, yeah. "Spike admitted. "Gonna tell me what you did with my friends?"
"Miss Summers and Miss Summers are quite safe. The elder Miss Summers is being
treated at our infirmary for her wounds, and the younger has been taken into the
protective custody of the Council."
"And Em?"
"My daughter is much safer now that I have removed her from your influence and
the influence of her brother and his friends."
"Darla?"
He laughed again.
"Never you mind about her. Shall we begin?" And Spike heard a rustling in the
darkness, then the tinkling of something metal and he felt a rare shiver of
fear.
Wesley, Cordy and Faith met Angel at the gates to the compound.
"PLEASE STATE YOUR PASSWORD AND EMPLOYEE ID NUMBER" A tiny speaker near the gate
squeaked.
"Blue. 8203457." Wesley recited his father's ID number, which he'd been forced
to learn as a child in case he forgot his own. His own number had probably been
removed from the records when he was sacked.
The huge, gothic iron gates creaked open and the group passed through into the
courtyard. The layout of the compound was bizzare, some buildings dating from
the 13th centaury, and other buildings bieng much newer. It looked like a
college, with students running by, arms full of books.
"Emma called, from somewhere, she wouldn't say where." Wesley explained. "She
sounded absoulutly hysterical. Saying my father had Darla and Spike. Then she
seemed to get cut off..."
"How did you know she'd be here?" Angel questioned.
"Our mobile phones have Caller ID." Wesley smiled patiently. Angel looked
embarrassed.
"Still can't get the hang of these things." The vampire mumbled. "Where would he
take them, on campus I mean? Not some place where any student or uninvolved
Watcher might see them, right?"
"There's an old training facility out in the woods." Wesley said. "It's hardly
used at all anymore."
"It's worth a shot." Angel agreed. "How do we get there?"
"A dirt path, you have to walk. It's really, really not used anymore."
"Let's go!"
"Faith, would you and Cordelia see if you can find out where they might be
keeping Buffy and Dawn? It will be in a place that's less hidden, possibly even
the guest wing of the main building?"
"Sure." said Faith. "Give me the girlie job, why doncha?"
Blood trickled down Spike's neck. Wyndham-Pryce studied him, searching for a new
place for his small exacto knife to cut.
"Are we having fun yet?" He asked. "Are we enjoying this little taste of our own
medicine?"
"You're insane!" Spike growled. "You're a bloody nutcase."
"Perhaps I am. I'll give you points for that." He smiled coldly. "If only my own
sons had been as smart as you." He stabbed again and Spike tried not to cry out.
"Oh, don't hold it in. It's just you and I, you don't need to be manly about it.
Scream as much as you'd like, no one who hears will care."
"Why?" Spike asked hoarsley. "I mean, I know why, but why?"
"You killed my family." Wyndham-Pryce said simply. "And many many others, yet
you have yet to experiance any consequences. There are always conseqences,
always punishments, always room for vengence."
Spike screamed as his torturer poured holy water over his arms. It soaked
through the fabric of his black t-shirt and began to burn him.
"AHHHHHHH!"
"It seems I've cracked your unfeeling, tough exterior? The Slayer of Slayers is
learning what it's like to be on the other side? Are you going to beg and plead
for your life as so many of your victims did?"
"You'd love that, wouldn't you. Break me, see me beg. It's fun, isn't it, that
feeling of control? Having some helpless person at your mercy. That intoxicating
scent of fear. The screams."
"Stop that!" Wesley's father grabbed a cross off a table and pressed it to
Spike's chest. "I'm doing this for my son. I loved him!"
"Do you know your way around this place?" Angel asked. Wesley opened the door
and stepped inside the dusty main corridor.
"Slightly." said Wesley. "We had to come here for our physical final exams
before graduation. An endurance test. There are dungeons in the basement,
they've been here since the twelfth centaury, I believe."
"Guys! Wait!" Buffy hissed. Faith was carefully helping her through the broken
window. "You're not doing this by yourselves."
"You should be resting." Angel admonished.
"I'm the Slayer." said Buffy, spreading her arms out wide and wobbling a bit.
"I'm already healed, see?"
"She insisted." Faith explained as she casually put out an arm to steady her
sister Slayer. "Short of knockin' her unconcious, I couldn't stop her."
"Dawn and Em are with Cordy in the car. They're going up to the main building to
find someone who's in charge and to get help." said Buffy. She shared a secret
smile with Faith. "Emma can definetly handle this one."
A man's scream cut through the silence of the ancient building, it came from the
basement.
"That was Spike!" Angel and Buffy said in unison. Buffy ran toward the stairs.
The look on her face was one Angel reminded himself to ask her about later - if
they all got through this.
Angel stopped and sniffed the air.
"I smell her. I smell her - she's down this hallway, and she's terrified." said
Angel. He ran in the direction of Darla's scent and Wesley followed him.
Spike knew he'd hit a nerve, and pushed it to his advantage.
"Oh you did did you? It's always seemed to me that parents who love their
children treat them better."
"I never mistreated my children!"
Spike blinked at him.
"Oh, of course not. And here, silly me believed Collin when he told me that you
beat him occasionally, made a habit out of locking him in the closet and
regularly insulted him."
"It was all done in the name of discipline. You must take a firm hand with
children.
"And then apparently taking out your frustrations and grief on your younger boy,
well - the little brat deserved it, didn't he? The nerve of him to be born! How
dare he insert himself into your life and attempt to grow up!"
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Wyndham-Pryce shouted.
"No, I don't have much first hand knowlege of your domestic situation. After
all, I only spent a lot more time with your Collin than you did. And Darla tells
me that Wesley still has nightmares about the closet. Cordelia has backed the
story up and so has Angel." Spike remembered to keep his cool, it would make him
seem like the reasonable one. "And although you've studied my family
extensively, you really know nothing about us. If you did, you would know that
Angelus could also be quite - tyranical at times - and I know whereof I speak
when I speak of these situations."
And add a little *William* speak to make him sound more mature.
"I wanted them to be the best - I want them to be the best. There's no room for
childhood in that. There's no room to be lax."
"I know, I know." Spike said soothingly. "It's hard."
"We'll pick this up later!" Wyndham-Pryce snarled, attempting to regain the
ground he'd lost. He turned and stormed out, slamming the heavy iron door. Spike
let out an uneeded breath and slumped against the wall.
Angel and Wesley ran through what seemed like an endless maze of corridors. The
whole place was like a small sparsley furnished castle, that had also once
served time as a school. It had both combinations of horrible smells, musty,
wet, woodsy, bloody, and also the smell of rubber erasers, bologna sandwhiches,
sweatsocks and paint. Wesley hadn't smelled it in about four years and now it
made him gag.
Angel heard footsteps and pulled Wesley into an alcove. Two Watchers, both men
in their thirties, walked by.
"I really don't know about this." Watcher Number One said.
"They're vampires." Number Two sounded as if he were talking to an idiot. "Two
less makes the world a better place. All that crap about *souls* and *chips* is
just a myth."
"I feel guilty." Number One said quietly. "When I picked her up, she was so
small, and she looked like a kid or something, and I thought - What if His
Lordship is wrong, and they do have souls? Then I'd be a murderer!"
"I think you might be too soft for this career. Maybe you should look into
becoming a PETA volunteer or something. They're animals. Vicious, violent,
selfish animals, that's what vampires are."
"And he was so small too... I mean, someone called William The Bloody, you'd
think he'd be bigger. But he was so little and breakable. And they look like
each other, they look like family."
"Well, if you're thinking of betraying your calling, do it now. Because when the
sun rises today, Darla's cell will have nothing but dust on the floor. Although
- and you didn't hear this from me, I think His Lordship's gonna keep the other
one alive as long as possible, just for fun."
They passed around the corner, still arguing. Wesley and Angel stepped out from
the alcove.
"Darla's cell will have nothing but dust on the floor." Angel murmured.
"She'll be in one that's facing East then." Wesley surmised. "That's on this
side of the building."
Angel followed him as he ran in the direction of the ground floor rooms. Wesley
got there first, and his heart sank at what he found.
A heavy metal door, solid in the middle, with bars on top and bottom to provide
a view inside. The room was large and airy, and without electric lights. Darla
was lying on her back, chained by her ankles and wrists to the floor. The moon
shone through the gigantic window, floor length green curtains drawn back to let
in the most natural light.
"Darla!" Angel cried. He went to break down the door and leapt back, gasping in
agony.
"The door is blessed." Darla said almost dully. "These guys think of everything,
don't they."
"That's not gonna stop me from getting you out!"
"Don't be stupid, Angelus."
"Darla, we're going to get you out." Wesley insisted. "How much time do we
have?"
"Oh, I don't know, about three hours." She snapped. "Please, both of you, just
go!"
"I said I'd never leave you and I meant it!" said Angel. "We have three hours,
we'll think of something, I promise."
Wesley didn't have much hope for that, he pressed his forhead against the cold
stone and cursed his father silently.
"What's the next step?" Spike tried to recall. "Oh - yeah. Humanize yourself to
your captor."
Wyndham-Pryce reentered the room an hour or two later, this time bearing a long
thin stick with a wooden cross on the end. He dipped it into a bucket of holy
water and struck Spike with it.
"AHHHHHH!" The vampire screamed again. *Okay, time to save your skin.*
"I had a good relationship with my father." He said. "Of course, we hardly spent
any time together. My mother, on the other hand, I was very close to. I didn't
have a brother or sister. Spent a lot of time by myself when I was younger. I
liked to write poetry, although frankly, it sucked. I attended University, where
I met Cecily for the first time. She was truly beautiful, and I had never before
dared to speak my feelings to her." He proceeded to tell the entire story, of
Cecily shooting him down, of running into the street in tears, of tearing up his
poems, of meeting Drusilla, of dying. "You should be writing this down.
Pyschology of the vampire or what have you."
"I have no interest in what you have to say. Did you think you might somehow
convince me to let you go by proving that you are just as human as I am? You're
not. You're a demon who has no conscience, no morals, no capacity for sympathy
yourself, why do you expect it from others?"
"Because you're human!" Spike cried in frustration. "You know the difference
between right and wrong. You do have a conscience. That's the big diff between
humans and vampires, humans have an inclination to do good. YOU'RE human. I'm a
vampire. Now, since I've had this chip I've learned a lot about thinking about
others before myself. I've learned all about not doing things because you think
you're going to get something, but doing it because you're supposed to. I've
learned about love, and about how strong some friendships can be. I think I've
come close to gaining back some of my humanity in the last year, and now it
seems I'm to watch you lose yours. That is, if you ever had it in the first
place."
Wyndham-Pryce struck him again. Then he looked toward the shaft of sunlight
streaming in through the tiny cell window.
"Well, well well. It seems the sun is coming up. If you'd like to say any
prayers for your grandmother, now would be the time to start. I know your
particular order has some traditions. If you would like me to leave you alone
while you do it?"
"I was never very religious." Spike said reflectively. "But I would like the
opportunity to grieve in private, if you don't mind."
"You know, Angelus? I've died three times now."
"I bet there's no one else in the world who can say that." Angel agreed. He was
sitting cross legged on the floor, if he stretched his hand through the bars he
could just touch her fingers. Wesley had gone to look for something to break
down the door with.
"Not even Jesus." Darla mused. "That feels wrong, that I should get to be so
special when even Our Lord only died once."
"But you're not getting crowds of people, and a trial and a place in history and
a crown of thorns." Angel reminded her.
"Yeah," Darla laughed sadly. "All my deaths have been little, private ones. No
one saw me come in, and no one's going to see me leave."
"I'm here." said Angel. "Wes is here. You're not going to be alone."
"No, you don't understand. I don't even exist, I've died so many times I don't
even think I'm the same girl anymore. When - when I'm gone, there'll be no body.
There'll be dust, and that dust will blow away in the wind and I'll be gone
forever, Angelus." She shook her blonde head emphatically. "And I won't be
brought back again."
"Don't say that!"
"I'm tired. I've lived a long, long life, most of it on borrowed time. And I'm
tired. Nothing changes, the world hasn't changed in 426 years. I keep living my
lives, hoping that this one'll stick, that I can do it right this time and I
never do."
"I'll help you, when we get you out, I promise I'll help! You've been doing so
well."
"You're so good to me, Angel. Too good, considering all the ways I've screwed
you over since we've known each other. You're my only legacy, that's why you
need to know something..."
******
Buffy ran down the halls, trying doors and breaking down others. She found
herself getting deeper and deeper underground, the stones on the walls looked
older with each level she went down. Buffy heard the sound of gently lapping
water as she passed some moss covered walls. There was a door, a wooden door
that seemed bizzarely out of place so far underground. It was locked, so Buffy
broke it down. The tiny room was dark, almost pitch black if not for the shaft
of sunlight coming from one window very high up on the wall. She could see that
it had been made into a sort of makeshift cell, complete with manacles and a
table of sharp objects for torture.
Then she saw him. Spike, chained to the wall, blood soaking through his clothes
and covered with burns.
"Spike? Spike, what happened?"
"Slayer?" He mumbled weakly. The vampire tried to move, and winced, closing his
eyes against the pain. "Oh, Bloody Hell."
Buffy cast around for something to break his chains with, finally setting eyes
on a rusty old battle axe in a dark corner. As Buffy approached him, Spike
closed his eyes again, swallowed hard, and for the first time Buffy saw there
were tearstains on his cheeks.
"You won, Betty." Spike said hoarsely. "O'course, you 'ad a little help, but
congratulations."
Buffy swung the axe, it connected with his chains with a satisfying *clunk*.
"What are you doing?" Spike asked after he had watched her in silence for a few
moments.
"I have no idea." Buffy admitted as his chains snapped off. Spike fell forward,
and Buffy had to catch him to keep him from hitting the floor. "C'mon, let's get
out of here."
Arms around each other's waists, they limped up the stairs.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a super hero, you know that?" said Spike. "It took
you SEVEN WHOLE HOURS to find me."
"And you're a pathetic excuse for a villain. You NEEDED me to come rescue you!"
"Shut up, Slayer Come Lately."
"Mr. Impotent."
"Bimbo."
"Loser."
"Bitch."
"Bastard."
"Ho."
"Berk!"
"Oooohhh... Getting your insults from Giles now, huh?"
