3000, seconds later
"Lydia, what happened?" I brush strands of red from her face, so she isn't trying to blink them away.
A trembling hand reaches out to touch me. "A-are you really there?"
Gently, I take her cool fingers between my palms, bringing her arm back down. A thousand questions roll through my head, but I choose to repeat the one. "What happened to you?"
She licks her dry, cracked lips and murmurs, "Prenwick."
"That bastard?" Prenwick will now pay dearly. "What's his deal anyway? He's barely over a century old."
Her brown eyes break from mine. "He's my childe, Buffy." I'm not sure how much energy she has, so I give her some time to tell her story. "After Nabald was killed, the remainder of his group banded together for a while, but after a few decades, it wasn't enough. Quite a few of us were picked off by Joyger's remaining followers and other demons. Before I knew it, I was alone. Do you know what it's like to be completely alone?"
She studies me, then, and I do my best to present her a neutral face. The thought of being without someone, of being without the comfort that is uniquely Spike makes shudder involuntarily.
A half-smile transforms her face, and she winces in pain. "So, you do understand. When I met Prenwick, he was a preacher in a local bar, making some deals with a group of Ratchidel demons for money and power over his congregation. I thought I might seduce him for a night of pleasure. I suppose the irony of a 'good' man being so corrupt intrigued me. After the first night, he was hungry for more, which I willingly gave him, and after several months, he took me into his home to kill his wife and children. I became his mistress. Several members of his church figured out what was going on and got him fired. When he lost his job as a preacher, he begged me to turn him."
She pauses as if reassuring herself that I'm okay enough for her to continue. I've heard and seen worse in the last millennium, so she is satisfied with my reaction. "I did so willingly, thinking that I would have someone. . . that I wouldn't be alone anymore. And at first, I was right. Prenwick was my ever-present companion. I taught him the ropes of the demon world. . . I taught him survival. We made love every day, and we hunted every night. Then, he started disappearing from our bed more and more often."
Lydia draws a deep breath and pulls her hand jerkily from my lap as she turns onto her side facing me. "Come to find out, he had gotten himself involved with a Torakal demon. . . a half-Torakal demon, no less."
Astonishment radiates over me.
"His name was. . . is Richard."
This time, I let my reaction show on my face.
Lydia starts to laugh but chokes on the attempt. When she recovers, she informs me, "Ahhh, Buffy, but it's not what you're thinking. Let me finish."
Pressing my lips together, I nod.
"One evening when I was left waiting for him for six hours, I waited until he arrived home, and I confronted him on where he was going and what he'd been doing. He wasn't at all defensive like I expected him to be. He told me that he had met a half-Torakal demon who had the key to the freedom of demonkind. I asked what he meant, and he described Richard as a nice enough young demon who was an expert in human technology, and in fact, his work was advanced beyond what humans possessed."
Now the advanced technology is beginning to make sense.
"And he said the bonus was that the half-demon worked for the Council and that he had an 'in' to the slayer and her helpers, William the Bloody and Buffy the vampire slayer. At this point, my interest was piqued because of what happened with Nabald. I wanted revenge."
Somehow, I am not surprised by what she is revealing.
"Prenwick said that he thought that Richard wasn't going to turn from the side of the Council but that he intended to trick Richard and the Council into believing that he was going to help them in the demon underground. And that he would give demons something they'd never thought to have. After a few weeks, Prenwick reported that it turned out to be quite easy to trick Richard into falling for his charms and giving him what he needed. He said Richard truly believed that Prenwick was trying to civilize demonkind. After several years, I began to realize that Prenwick's plan wasn't what I thought it was going to be. More and more, he increased his distance from me as he drew deeper into his plan to ruin mankind. And the more I heard about the plan, the more I disagreed."
"How come?" I interject.
"Because he intended to send all humankind to another dimension. . . to cut off our only food source. We are, after all, ingrained into the natural system. Taking our food supply away even with the ability to make clones and generate blood from DNA was risky in my book. What if something should happen, and we lost the ability to generate more blood? We'd be screwed. . . at least, the vampires would. And who would be in charge; would Prenwick have sole control over the system he was creating? The options didn't sound very appealing to me."
"That sounds like a familiar argument, Lydia, and it's a good one," I point out, thinking of Spike's speech to me about Angelus's plan to destroy the world hundreds of years ago. In fact, I am taken aback by how easily his little justification for defying Angelus pops into my head.
She coughs again, and something rattles in her throat. . . not a healthy sound. "I tried discussing my concerns with him, but he wouldn't hear of it. In fact, the more I protested his actions, the more violent he became with me. . . until he threw me in here."
"How long?" I whisper.
"Twenty years."
Air whistles past my lips. "And the message sent to Reyni and I?"
She flinches from the memory of some unknown event. "He forced me. And I had no choice, or he would have killed me. He very nearly did afterwards."
"And the magical ability you possess?"
"A gift from Prenwick. . . from the beginning. He had DNA surgery done on me and had me trained under some of the Wiccans he cloned; he wanted me to have 'the touch' as he calls it."
"And why didn't you go the Council or Richard with information about the plan?"
She shivers at my words. "He'd kill me if they didn't. And trust me, he'd find out."
"Why doesn't he himself possess magical ability?"
"He didn't want demons to believe that he was becoming too powerful because he realized that other demons might plot to eliminate him."
Before I can open my mouth to ask another question, the familiar hum of the door disappearing sounds behind me, and I spring up, ready for action. Lydia groans in response to my action. Spike tumbles through the doorway and crumples to the floor in a heap. I rush to his side as the door slips back into place.
Scanning over his body, I do a thorough, automatic check for injuries. I am dismayed by what I view. The first injury I note is in his left forearm. The bone is broken clean through the skin. . . a compound fracture that's bleeding profusely, sending the sharp smell of copper to my nose and soaking the torn fibers of his clothing. His wrist computer is completely gone. Cross burns are imprinted on his cheeks; the flesh thoroughly scorched so that the flesh shines unnaturally white. His eyes are swollen shut with bruises and pools of blood. Although the rest of his body remains clothed so that I can't examine the full extent of his wounds, his leg is twisted at an odd angle, indicating that the bone is definitely broken. . . if not shattered.
Smoothing his thick hair back from his forehead, I kiss the untouched flesh tenderly. "Spike? Are you awake?" I murmur into his ear.
He moans slightly in reaction to my query but doesn't move. Worry etches my brow, but I am determined to not fall apart at the sight of him until after I attempt to tend to the damage.
Lydia has moved up behind me on shaky legs. "What can I do?"
I blink up at the vampiress who tried to seduce my husband so long ago, and I see only a trembling young woman who has never had easy circumstances. I have to remind myself that she's still a demon or else I'll let my guard down completely around her.
"Can you sit behind him and brace him so that he doesn't slide all over the floor? I need to set the fractures."
Lydia nods and eases herself behind Spike with her legs parallel to his hips and her arms around his waist. Kneeling on the ground near his broken leg, I apologize for the pain and feel his leg. I am thankful that the bone isn't shattered, and in one motion, I snap the bone back into place. In his semi-conscious state, Spike screams inside and outside my head, sending me reeling to the floor. Lydia almost falls backward from the backlash but catches herself, emitting a scream of her own.
Shaking off the waves of dizziness, I turn to the arm, keeping my mind distant from Spike's pain. Because his arm computer is gone, the clothing won't just disappear at the touch of a button, so I rip the cloth up to his shoulder, pulling the strips away and flinging them to the side. Numbly, I push the bone back into the original nest of muscles and tendons. This time the move is met with silence because Spike is now blissfully unconscious and probably in shock. I press the muscle and skin into place, hoping that everything will mend properly as fast-acting vampire healing kicks into gear.
Ripping my shirt, I hurry to the sink to moisten the material. When I return, Lydia has managed to back away from Spike so that he lay on his back. She is curled into a fetal position with her eyes tightly shut against the pain her aid has caused her. I pick her up and deposit her carefully onto her bed and return to Spike.
Methodically, I wash the excess blood away, cleaning him the best I can under my limited circumstances. When I am finished, I slide my wrist computer onto his arm, noting that the system's ability to communicate with others outside our prison is deactivated. However, the clothing regeneration program is intact. In seconds, Spike is dressed more comfortably in a fresh clean outfit.
Somehow, I carry him to the second mattress and arrange his body on his right side so that his damaged arm is not pressured. I climb up and snuggle my backside next to his form, cautiously bringing his arm around me and cradling it to my chest. As emotional and physical exhaustion overcomes me, I finally allow myself to tremble with pent up fear and worry and concern.
TBC. . . What happened to Spike and how will they get out of this situation? Keep reading! I apologize for this part being later than the others; I've had huge school projects due and I got sick with the flu, too. :o) Hope you still enjoy! Thanks again for the awesome reviews! You guys are wonderful!!!
"Lydia, what happened?" I brush strands of red from her face, so she isn't trying to blink them away.
A trembling hand reaches out to touch me. "A-are you really there?"
Gently, I take her cool fingers between my palms, bringing her arm back down. A thousand questions roll through my head, but I choose to repeat the one. "What happened to you?"
She licks her dry, cracked lips and murmurs, "Prenwick."
"That bastard?" Prenwick will now pay dearly. "What's his deal anyway? He's barely over a century old."
Her brown eyes break from mine. "He's my childe, Buffy." I'm not sure how much energy she has, so I give her some time to tell her story. "After Nabald was killed, the remainder of his group banded together for a while, but after a few decades, it wasn't enough. Quite a few of us were picked off by Joyger's remaining followers and other demons. Before I knew it, I was alone. Do you know what it's like to be completely alone?"
She studies me, then, and I do my best to present her a neutral face. The thought of being without someone, of being without the comfort that is uniquely Spike makes shudder involuntarily.
A half-smile transforms her face, and she winces in pain. "So, you do understand. When I met Prenwick, he was a preacher in a local bar, making some deals with a group of Ratchidel demons for money and power over his congregation. I thought I might seduce him for a night of pleasure. I suppose the irony of a 'good' man being so corrupt intrigued me. After the first night, he was hungry for more, which I willingly gave him, and after several months, he took me into his home to kill his wife and children. I became his mistress. Several members of his church figured out what was going on and got him fired. When he lost his job as a preacher, he begged me to turn him."
She pauses as if reassuring herself that I'm okay enough for her to continue. I've heard and seen worse in the last millennium, so she is satisfied with my reaction. "I did so willingly, thinking that I would have someone. . . that I wouldn't be alone anymore. And at first, I was right. Prenwick was my ever-present companion. I taught him the ropes of the demon world. . . I taught him survival. We made love every day, and we hunted every night. Then, he started disappearing from our bed more and more often."
Lydia draws a deep breath and pulls her hand jerkily from my lap as she turns onto her side facing me. "Come to find out, he had gotten himself involved with a Torakal demon. . . a half-Torakal demon, no less."
Astonishment radiates over me.
"His name was. . . is Richard."
This time, I let my reaction show on my face.
Lydia starts to laugh but chokes on the attempt. When she recovers, she informs me, "Ahhh, Buffy, but it's not what you're thinking. Let me finish."
Pressing my lips together, I nod.
"One evening when I was left waiting for him for six hours, I waited until he arrived home, and I confronted him on where he was going and what he'd been doing. He wasn't at all defensive like I expected him to be. He told me that he had met a half-Torakal demon who had the key to the freedom of demonkind. I asked what he meant, and he described Richard as a nice enough young demon who was an expert in human technology, and in fact, his work was advanced beyond what humans possessed."
Now the advanced technology is beginning to make sense.
"And he said the bonus was that the half-demon worked for the Council and that he had an 'in' to the slayer and her helpers, William the Bloody and Buffy the vampire slayer. At this point, my interest was piqued because of what happened with Nabald. I wanted revenge."
Somehow, I am not surprised by what she is revealing.
"Prenwick said that he thought that Richard wasn't going to turn from the side of the Council but that he intended to trick Richard and the Council into believing that he was going to help them in the demon underground. And that he would give demons something they'd never thought to have. After a few weeks, Prenwick reported that it turned out to be quite easy to trick Richard into falling for his charms and giving him what he needed. He said Richard truly believed that Prenwick was trying to civilize demonkind. After several years, I began to realize that Prenwick's plan wasn't what I thought it was going to be. More and more, he increased his distance from me as he drew deeper into his plan to ruin mankind. And the more I heard about the plan, the more I disagreed."
"How come?" I interject.
"Because he intended to send all humankind to another dimension. . . to cut off our only food source. We are, after all, ingrained into the natural system. Taking our food supply away even with the ability to make clones and generate blood from DNA was risky in my book. What if something should happen, and we lost the ability to generate more blood? We'd be screwed. . . at least, the vampires would. And who would be in charge; would Prenwick have sole control over the system he was creating? The options didn't sound very appealing to me."
"That sounds like a familiar argument, Lydia, and it's a good one," I point out, thinking of Spike's speech to me about Angelus's plan to destroy the world hundreds of years ago. In fact, I am taken aback by how easily his little justification for defying Angelus pops into my head.
She coughs again, and something rattles in her throat. . . not a healthy sound. "I tried discussing my concerns with him, but he wouldn't hear of it. In fact, the more I protested his actions, the more violent he became with me. . . until he threw me in here."
"How long?" I whisper.
"Twenty years."
Air whistles past my lips. "And the message sent to Reyni and I?"
She flinches from the memory of some unknown event. "He forced me. And I had no choice, or he would have killed me. He very nearly did afterwards."
"And the magical ability you possess?"
"A gift from Prenwick. . . from the beginning. He had DNA surgery done on me and had me trained under some of the Wiccans he cloned; he wanted me to have 'the touch' as he calls it."
"And why didn't you go the Council or Richard with information about the plan?"
She shivers at my words. "He'd kill me if they didn't. And trust me, he'd find out."
"Why doesn't he himself possess magical ability?"
"He didn't want demons to believe that he was becoming too powerful because he realized that other demons might plot to eliminate him."
Before I can open my mouth to ask another question, the familiar hum of the door disappearing sounds behind me, and I spring up, ready for action. Lydia groans in response to my action. Spike tumbles through the doorway and crumples to the floor in a heap. I rush to his side as the door slips back into place.
Scanning over his body, I do a thorough, automatic check for injuries. I am dismayed by what I view. The first injury I note is in his left forearm. The bone is broken clean through the skin. . . a compound fracture that's bleeding profusely, sending the sharp smell of copper to my nose and soaking the torn fibers of his clothing. His wrist computer is completely gone. Cross burns are imprinted on his cheeks; the flesh thoroughly scorched so that the flesh shines unnaturally white. His eyes are swollen shut with bruises and pools of blood. Although the rest of his body remains clothed so that I can't examine the full extent of his wounds, his leg is twisted at an odd angle, indicating that the bone is definitely broken. . . if not shattered.
Smoothing his thick hair back from his forehead, I kiss the untouched flesh tenderly. "Spike? Are you awake?" I murmur into his ear.
He moans slightly in reaction to my query but doesn't move. Worry etches my brow, but I am determined to not fall apart at the sight of him until after I attempt to tend to the damage.
Lydia has moved up behind me on shaky legs. "What can I do?"
I blink up at the vampiress who tried to seduce my husband so long ago, and I see only a trembling young woman who has never had easy circumstances. I have to remind myself that she's still a demon or else I'll let my guard down completely around her.
"Can you sit behind him and brace him so that he doesn't slide all over the floor? I need to set the fractures."
Lydia nods and eases herself behind Spike with her legs parallel to his hips and her arms around his waist. Kneeling on the ground near his broken leg, I apologize for the pain and feel his leg. I am thankful that the bone isn't shattered, and in one motion, I snap the bone back into place. In his semi-conscious state, Spike screams inside and outside my head, sending me reeling to the floor. Lydia almost falls backward from the backlash but catches herself, emitting a scream of her own.
Shaking off the waves of dizziness, I turn to the arm, keeping my mind distant from Spike's pain. Because his arm computer is gone, the clothing won't just disappear at the touch of a button, so I rip the cloth up to his shoulder, pulling the strips away and flinging them to the side. Numbly, I push the bone back into the original nest of muscles and tendons. This time the move is met with silence because Spike is now blissfully unconscious and probably in shock. I press the muscle and skin into place, hoping that everything will mend properly as fast-acting vampire healing kicks into gear.
Ripping my shirt, I hurry to the sink to moisten the material. When I return, Lydia has managed to back away from Spike so that he lay on his back. She is curled into a fetal position with her eyes tightly shut against the pain her aid has caused her. I pick her up and deposit her carefully onto her bed and return to Spike.
Methodically, I wash the excess blood away, cleaning him the best I can under my limited circumstances. When I am finished, I slide my wrist computer onto his arm, noting that the system's ability to communicate with others outside our prison is deactivated. However, the clothing regeneration program is intact. In seconds, Spike is dressed more comfortably in a fresh clean outfit.
Somehow, I carry him to the second mattress and arrange his body on his right side so that his damaged arm is not pressured. I climb up and snuggle my backside next to his form, cautiously bringing his arm around me and cradling it to my chest. As emotional and physical exhaustion overcomes me, I finally allow myself to tremble with pent up fear and worry and concern.
TBC. . . What happened to Spike and how will they get out of this situation? Keep reading! I apologize for this part being later than the others; I've had huge school projects due and I got sick with the flu, too. :o) Hope you still enjoy! Thanks again for the awesome reviews! You guys are wonderful!!!