Title: A Passing Shadow: Book II: Trick of the Light: Chapter 2
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc: please see previous chapters
Speakin' of hard-ons-we were, weren't we?--I often wonder if the Powers that Be get a right monstrous one from inflictin' misery on our little band o' buggered.
I've developed a nasty tendency to ruminate since the Slayer bit the big one last Spring, an' these are the things that cross my mind, particularly when I've been keepin' company with a bottle. 'Course, I'll never touch the Great Pouf when it comes to broodin', but it tickles me to imagine the PTB havin' a collective wank-off at the spectacle of our sufferin'. Somebody must be, 'cause it's too soddin' pointless if it's just random pain.
Woke up the evenin' followin' the Watcher's return with a tune runnin' through my head I couldn't get rid of. Damned irritatin', an' I couldn't place it for the death of me, but I knew it had somethin' to do with--
"Rise and shine, Spike! The early vamp catches the mug of nuked pig's blood!" And there came the Niblet with my breakfast. She hauled it over to the shop every evenin' like clockwork, 'though I told time an' again it wasn't necessary.
My eyes were nearly a hundred percent at that point, an' it was time to be thinkin' of gettin' back to the crypt--'though I couldn't pretend to be in a great hurry to revisit the scene of Dru's untimely dusting. I think the Slayer an' her gang understood as much, 'cause there was no talk of turnin' me out of the back room. An' so I continued to take advantage of their obligin' ways, as is my custom, an' got right used to bein' catered to by Red an' her bird an' the Lil' Bit.
What? You were thinkin' I'd changed that much? Not bleedin' likely.
So. Sippin' my morning repast an' doin' my best to banish that bugger-some tune from my brain, an' who should pop in for a visit but the Watcher. Had somethin' to talk about, he did, 'though why he chose to unburden his benighted soul to me, I've no clue.
"Spike."
"Rupert."
"How are you? I mean to say, your eyes? How are your eyes?"
"Comin' along."
"Glad to hear it. And the other...problem?"
"If you're askin' whether I'm givin' the Slayer a seeing to, the answer's no."
"Er...well, yes, I rather thought... There's been no improvement then?"
"My danglies are in better order than yours, I'll wager, but I'll ask you to keep your gob shut about that."
"Oh...but..."
"Leave it, Watcher. Now, why're you here? I've a feelin' it's not to inquire after my ability to pitch a tent."
"Well. Right then. Straight to the point."
"That'd be good."
"You may have wondered why I departed for England so suddenly, given Buffy's recent return from...that is to say, her recent return."
"Can't say as I did, but go on."
At that point, he took off his specs an' started in with the polishin', which is never a good sign, is it?
"I had a call from the Council. They had unearthed several ancient tomes, at least one of which is the companion to the Pergamum Codex. At any rate, there is a particular passage that deals with the death and resurrection of a Chosen One. Now, at first, I thought it must be referring to another Slayer, since according to the Codex, Buffy was already supposed to be dead by the hand of the Master. But upon closer inspection, it became clear that the prophecy does in fact pertain directly to Buffy." He slipped his specs back on his face an' all of a sudden he was lookin' right elderly an' a good deal more weary than I'd ever seen him look before. Made the pig's blood I'd just put in me run like icewater.
"The gist of the prophecy is this: when the Chosen One is brought forth from the afterlife, it will be without the blessing of the Powers that Be. From that time on, the Slayer will be alone in her battle against the demon dimensions."
"Well, that's not news, Watcher. When have the Powers ever given our Slayer the time of day?"
"This is different, Spike. Without the blessing of the Powers--be it explicit or implicit--the Slayer is left in a very vulnerable state--"
"Then we'll protect her. Get Will an' Tara to do a spell--"
"Spike, you must listen. There's more." He got up an' started pacin' about the room, twistin' his hands together like an' old woman. "The prophecy is quite detailed--more so than any I've ever read, in fact. It states that because the Chosen One was brought forth from the rightful home of her spirit without the blessing of the Powers, the balance has been lost. The forces of darkness will take this as a direct challenge. They will rise up--not against mankind--but directly against this affront to the balance, to the order of things. Directly against Buffy."
"Christ, Rupert, what're you sayin'? The armies of hell are comin' for her?"
"In a word, yes."
Not much'll shut me up, you know. Next to feedin' an' shaggin' an' the odd spot of violence, I do love to run my mouth. But that did it. No snappy comebacks nor snide retorts to that bit of news.
"Bloody hell."
"Indeed."
I knocked it about in my head for a moment or two. That soddin' tune was still there, makin' a right fine backdrop for the panic that was buildin' in me.
"When?"
He looked at me an' I got a bad feelin'.
"It's already begun. They will come at her first through those she cares about, using enemies she knows. Your little encounter with Drusilla...I believe it was the first attack."
"No! You're wrong on that score, Watcher. Drusilla was like a child...she never had it in her to--"
"Never had it in her? This was the she-demon that teamed with Angelus to bring back Acathla and destroy the world. She had it in her, Spike. And she hated Buffy. I understand that you mourn her, but--"
"You understand bugger-all, Rupert. Drusilla had the attention span of a gnat on crystal meth. She couldn't have planned something that complex without--"
"Without help? What about the voices in her head, Spike? I expect that if the forces of darkness want something badly enough, they could easily commandeer the visions of a lunatic like Drusilla."
He had a point, but I wasn't in the mood for anymore Dru-bashin'. Bad enough I'd had to stake the poor bint. Lemme tell you, pet, a century is a long time to spend with one lover. It's a might harder to get over than the average one-night shag.
"Well, what of it then? I dusted her, didn't I? Saved the day, an' with no proper thanks for it, I might add. Wasn't even much of a battle, an' me with my vision impaired. If they're all like that--"
"They won't be. The dark forces will start small, in order not to deplete their power unnecessarily. Whatever comes next will be harder to deal with, I assure you."
An' again, I had no answer for all his doom an' gloom.
"Have you told the Slayer yet?"
"No."
"Well, don't you think you bloody well should?"
"Told me what?" Slayer in the doorway, lookin' for all the world like a twenty year old chit of a girl without a thing on the planet to concern her but whether or not to have her navel pierced, an' where she might find the best deal on those low-ridin' trousers she's taken to wearin'.
Should've packed up what little I had that Dru hadn't torn apart an' left dear old Sunnyhell for good that night. Should've kissed her hard on the way out the door, an' never looked back.
Should've.
Didn't.
tbc
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc: please see previous chapters
Speakin' of hard-ons-we were, weren't we?--I often wonder if the Powers that Be get a right monstrous one from inflictin' misery on our little band o' buggered.
I've developed a nasty tendency to ruminate since the Slayer bit the big one last Spring, an' these are the things that cross my mind, particularly when I've been keepin' company with a bottle. 'Course, I'll never touch the Great Pouf when it comes to broodin', but it tickles me to imagine the PTB havin' a collective wank-off at the spectacle of our sufferin'. Somebody must be, 'cause it's too soddin' pointless if it's just random pain.
Woke up the evenin' followin' the Watcher's return with a tune runnin' through my head I couldn't get rid of. Damned irritatin', an' I couldn't place it for the death of me, but I knew it had somethin' to do with--
"Rise and shine, Spike! The early vamp catches the mug of nuked pig's blood!" And there came the Niblet with my breakfast. She hauled it over to the shop every evenin' like clockwork, 'though I told time an' again it wasn't necessary.
My eyes were nearly a hundred percent at that point, an' it was time to be thinkin' of gettin' back to the crypt--'though I couldn't pretend to be in a great hurry to revisit the scene of Dru's untimely dusting. I think the Slayer an' her gang understood as much, 'cause there was no talk of turnin' me out of the back room. An' so I continued to take advantage of their obligin' ways, as is my custom, an' got right used to bein' catered to by Red an' her bird an' the Lil' Bit.
What? You were thinkin' I'd changed that much? Not bleedin' likely.
So. Sippin' my morning repast an' doin' my best to banish that bugger-some tune from my brain, an' who should pop in for a visit but the Watcher. Had somethin' to talk about, he did, 'though why he chose to unburden his benighted soul to me, I've no clue.
"Spike."
"Rupert."
"How are you? I mean to say, your eyes? How are your eyes?"
"Comin' along."
"Glad to hear it. And the other...problem?"
"If you're askin' whether I'm givin' the Slayer a seeing to, the answer's no."
"Er...well, yes, I rather thought... There's been no improvement then?"
"My danglies are in better order than yours, I'll wager, but I'll ask you to keep your gob shut about that."
"Oh...but..."
"Leave it, Watcher. Now, why're you here? I've a feelin' it's not to inquire after my ability to pitch a tent."
"Well. Right then. Straight to the point."
"That'd be good."
"You may have wondered why I departed for England so suddenly, given Buffy's recent return from...that is to say, her recent return."
"Can't say as I did, but go on."
At that point, he took off his specs an' started in with the polishin', which is never a good sign, is it?
"I had a call from the Council. They had unearthed several ancient tomes, at least one of which is the companion to the Pergamum Codex. At any rate, there is a particular passage that deals with the death and resurrection of a Chosen One. Now, at first, I thought it must be referring to another Slayer, since according to the Codex, Buffy was already supposed to be dead by the hand of the Master. But upon closer inspection, it became clear that the prophecy does in fact pertain directly to Buffy." He slipped his specs back on his face an' all of a sudden he was lookin' right elderly an' a good deal more weary than I'd ever seen him look before. Made the pig's blood I'd just put in me run like icewater.
"The gist of the prophecy is this: when the Chosen One is brought forth from the afterlife, it will be without the blessing of the Powers that Be. From that time on, the Slayer will be alone in her battle against the demon dimensions."
"Well, that's not news, Watcher. When have the Powers ever given our Slayer the time of day?"
"This is different, Spike. Without the blessing of the Powers--be it explicit or implicit--the Slayer is left in a very vulnerable state--"
"Then we'll protect her. Get Will an' Tara to do a spell--"
"Spike, you must listen. There's more." He got up an' started pacin' about the room, twistin' his hands together like an' old woman. "The prophecy is quite detailed--more so than any I've ever read, in fact. It states that because the Chosen One was brought forth from the rightful home of her spirit without the blessing of the Powers, the balance has been lost. The forces of darkness will take this as a direct challenge. They will rise up--not against mankind--but directly against this affront to the balance, to the order of things. Directly against Buffy."
"Christ, Rupert, what're you sayin'? The armies of hell are comin' for her?"
"In a word, yes."
Not much'll shut me up, you know. Next to feedin' an' shaggin' an' the odd spot of violence, I do love to run my mouth. But that did it. No snappy comebacks nor snide retorts to that bit of news.
"Bloody hell."
"Indeed."
I knocked it about in my head for a moment or two. That soddin' tune was still there, makin' a right fine backdrop for the panic that was buildin' in me.
"When?"
He looked at me an' I got a bad feelin'.
"It's already begun. They will come at her first through those she cares about, using enemies she knows. Your little encounter with Drusilla...I believe it was the first attack."
"No! You're wrong on that score, Watcher. Drusilla was like a child...she never had it in her to--"
"Never had it in her? This was the she-demon that teamed with Angelus to bring back Acathla and destroy the world. She had it in her, Spike. And she hated Buffy. I understand that you mourn her, but--"
"You understand bugger-all, Rupert. Drusilla had the attention span of a gnat on crystal meth. She couldn't have planned something that complex without--"
"Without help? What about the voices in her head, Spike? I expect that if the forces of darkness want something badly enough, they could easily commandeer the visions of a lunatic like Drusilla."
He had a point, but I wasn't in the mood for anymore Dru-bashin'. Bad enough I'd had to stake the poor bint. Lemme tell you, pet, a century is a long time to spend with one lover. It's a might harder to get over than the average one-night shag.
"Well, what of it then? I dusted her, didn't I? Saved the day, an' with no proper thanks for it, I might add. Wasn't even much of a battle, an' me with my vision impaired. If they're all like that--"
"They won't be. The dark forces will start small, in order not to deplete their power unnecessarily. Whatever comes next will be harder to deal with, I assure you."
An' again, I had no answer for all his doom an' gloom.
"Have you told the Slayer yet?"
"No."
"Well, don't you think you bloody well should?"
"Told me what?" Slayer in the doorway, lookin' for all the world like a twenty year old chit of a girl without a thing on the planet to concern her but whether or not to have her navel pierced, an' where she might find the best deal on those low-ridin' trousers she's taken to wearin'.
Should've packed up what little I had that Dru hadn't torn apart an' left dear old Sunnyhell for good that night. Should've kissed her hard on the way out the door, an' never looked back.
Should've.
Didn't.
tbc