Chapter 15 – A Change in Reality

It was a simple routine once it was established. Giles, Jenny and Grianne shared duties sitting with Alasdair. Of course, they couldn't be with him all the time. Jenny had to go home during the week so that Lizzie could get to school, and Giles was still working on the prophecy, to say nothing of the other freelance research jobs that actually earned money. Grianne did what she could to fill in the gaps, but the coven wanted her back. She was arguing, but she knew they would win in the end.

The time spent with Alasdair meant talking to him. The medical staff had been surprised when they did a brain scan, to find that he was not, in fact, brain-dead. So, he remained, silent and unmoving, surrounded by the technology which kept him alive. The ventilator, breathing for him, and the tubes, feeding him and removing the waste products.

Worse than this, was the fact that none of them knew what was happening to the other members of their select band. Of Buffy, Spike, and Emily, nothing had been heard for two weeks. Given the urgency implied in Giles' translation of the prophecy, they were starting to give up hope.

*-*-*

The Council of Watchers was in turmoil. The Master had disappeared, and no trace of him had been found. A consultation with staff trained in such matters confirmed that Lucien Spencer was dead. They could provide no further details.

In accordance with the requirements, the secret committee had met so far on three different occasions. Each time, a new Master was agreed. Each time, the chosen candidate refused to take up the post.

Reluctantly, the committee agreed to take nominations from beyond the Spencer family and its offshoots. This caused a serious delay in proceedings, as each nomination had to be vetted by senior family members. They might not want the job themselves, but they wanted to be sure they approved the person who was eventually chosen.

*-*-*

Two creatures, of wildly different appearance, watched over two sleeping vampires. The first was green, and roughly human in appearance, the second was a bird, the most beautiful bird imaginable.

"Is everything ready?" asked the Phoenix.

"Yes, when they wake, their realities will be different. Their quest will begin." His companion looked sad as he spoke. "Do you think they will succeed?"

"I don't know, I suppose their chance is as good as any. They will have to overcome their natural resistance before both will see the truth. The test is designed to see into their hearts, to understand their worth."

Jared smiled sadly, as he and the Phoenix left the room. Immediately, the surroundings changed, the room becoming smaller and darker. The bed shrank too, leaving Spike alone, as Buffy was instantly transported elsewhere.

*-*-*

Spike woke to rough shaking. Someone was pulling at his arm, demanding that he get up. He opened his eyes blearily and looked around the unfamiliar surroundings. He instinctively reached for who? What? The room was small and dark, with a stone floor. There were no windows that he could see, and the bed was narrow and hard.

He looked at the person who had wakened him. The man was big - taller and wider than Spike. He had long, unkempt, dark hair, and he was dressed in rather old fashioned looking clothing. A quick glance suggested to Spike that it was made from woven wool, and it looked in serious need of washing.

"You're called to report to the Commander," the man told him. "You'd better be quick, or there'll be trouble."

Spike was temporarily bemused. At first, nothing about his current situation seemed remotely familiar, but as he sat with his legs dangling towards the floor, things became clear.

He was irritated to find that he had slept in his clothes, and that said clothes were of a similar style to his companion. Fortunately, they appeared much cleaner. The man, he now recognised as Frank, was waiting impatiently by the door.

"Give me a minute to wash my face," Spike growled at him.

He walked to a small table on the other side of the room from the bed, and found a bowl of water. He quickly splashed some water at his face, enjoying the feeling of comparative freshness it gave him.

Frank stood and watched the display, tutting under his breath at silly vampires who felt washing was important.

When he had finished, Spike stood up. He had a momentary vision of a cascade of hot water warming and cleaning his entire body. He shook his head to rid himself of the enjoyable image. It was strange. He'd never imagined such a thing before, and couldn't understand why he had thought of it.

He followed Frank down a dingy corridor, surprised when Frank made no attempt to avoid the sunlight flooding in the windows. He knew that Frank was a vampire like himself, and he held back as he approached the first pool of sunlight. He stretched out his arm and found nothing other than a pleasant warmth.

Frank had spotted that Spike was falling behind, and he stopped and waited impatiently. "Come on, the Commander doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Spike followed, marvelling at the feel of sunlight on his hands. He wished he could remove more of his clothing and revel in the sensation, but he knew Frank was right.

They reached a door, and Frank immediately turned to go. "Knock, and you'll be admitted," he mumbled, beating a hasty retreat. Spike smiled to himself. He knew the Commander by reputation, and he believed Frank's behaviour was typical.

He knocked, and responded to the barked, "Come," immediately.

The man sitting at the single desk in the room was also bigger than Spike. He was dark, and brown eyed, his face comely enough except for the cruelty that showed in his eyes.

The man looked up from the paper he was perusing as Spike stood before the desk. He checked out his visitor, and seemed to find something lacking.

"You're not what I expected," he commented. "I thought you'd be … bigger, more impressive."

"In my line of business, big isn't an advantage."

"And, what sort of name is Spike?"

"It's the one I choose to use," Spike replied. "Look, I understand you've got a job for me. If you have, then you'd better give me the details. If you haven't, then I need to go and find someone else who can employ me."

The Commander looked Spike up and down again, then stood. He held out his hand, saying, "Liam Sullivan, Commander of the advance party."

Spike took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly before adding, "Spike, spy and mercenary, at your service, provided it proves profitable."

Sullivan smiled at that comment. It was certainly typical of what he had been led to believe. Despite amusement, he was still uncomfortable. He was a firm believer in the cause, and to be forced to use a mercenary went against the grain. Surely all vampires should be involved in the effort to overthrow the humans in this world without thought of immediate recompense. There would be reward enough when the world was secure, and the humans held captive for the use of a superior species.

He sighed, before picking up the paper in front of him. He had his orders, after all, and if what he had been told was true, the vampire in front of him was the best chance they had of cutting short the whole campaign. This world, after all, was just too big a prize. A world where vampires were unaffected by sunlight, where humans were plentiful? It was just too good to be true.

"Your job, is as follows. We need to transport a woman, a human woman, from here, to the capital city, in less than two weeks. You will have to travel mainly through territory still held by the humans. If you succeed, it should be possible to cut short this campaign. The woman is .. important to the people of this world. There is another like her, and she resides in the capital. When you get there, you will capture the other, and execute them both. They must die together. That is why they are kept apart. If one of them dies, another of their kind is called. If both die together, we believe that their line will die out."

"What's so special about these women?" Spike asked. To call on his services for so simple a task seemed unreasonable.

"They are known as Slayers. Their task in this world is to kill those like us. They possess strength and speed to rival the most experienced of our kind. Fortunately, they are susceptible to a certain chemical. It removes their unnatural strength, and renders them like the rest of their kind. Bear in mind, that their faces are known to humans throughout this world. Most would willingly die to save them."

Spike was conducted down stairs and along corridors until he wondered if he would ever find his way outside. He knew they were approaching their destination by the smell. There was something about dungeons that always smelled the same. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Ahead, Sullivan was opening a door. Spike followed him into a dank, dark cell. The predominant smells were blood, pain and fear, overwhelming even the rank smell of an unwashed human.

As his eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom, he spotted a woman chained to the wall. She was filthy, and her body covered in injuries from many different implements.

"There she is," Sullivan announced. "We've been amusing ourselves while she's been here. She might no longer be strong, but her pain threshold is surprisingly high, and she heals quickly too. We've had to work quite hard to achieve the results you see."

Spike grinned mirthlessly. In truth, the sight in front of him made him feel sick. He was a vampire. He fed from humans. He killed humans, both because he fed, and for other reasons if the price was right, but he had no taste for abuse of this sort.

Covering his true feelings, he turned to the Commander. "Have her unshackled."

Sullivan motioned to a guard who was lounging in the corridor, and the manacles were undone. The girl flopped to the ground, and Spike stepped forwards to pick her up. She moaned slightly as he did so, and Spike could see that she was holding onto consciousness by the barest thread.

"Does she have a name?" he asked.

Sullivan looked surprised at the question. "She's called Buffy Summers, and your other quarry is Emily Stevenson. Not that names are important."

Spike picked up the young woman, and followed Sullivan out of the cell.

"I'll need to get her cleaned up and healed before we can travel," he told the other vampire.

Sullivan looked surprised.

"She's going to look kind of obvious like this, now, isn't she? And she's not much use to me if she can't walk."

Sullivan sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. He had been warned that this man was an eccentric, but he was surprised. He nodded, and led the way to the bath house.

"Of course, it's quiet at the moment. It's not normal to bathe in winter time, so you'll have the place to yourself. Of course, you'll have to find someone to warm the water …"

As they left the main building, Spike realised it was a castle of sorts. He seemed to be surprised at that, but couldn't understand why. He had arrived there late the previous night, and he must have seen it then.

The bath house was within the ramparts of the castle. It was entered down some steep stairs. Inside were cubicles made of rough stone, each with a sunken trough in the floor. Someone was found to be already warming water, apparently on Spike's own orders of the night before. One bath was ready and steaming. "Do you want some help?" the Commander asked, making it clear that he didn't approve.

"No, I think I can manage," Spike said between gritted teeth.

"Fine. The supplies for your journey will be left in your quarters. Included will be sufficient supplies of the chemical to keep her docile. Leave as soon as you're ready. She should be healed enough in a few hours."

With that, Spike was left alone with the woman. He looked at her closely for a few moments, trying to work out why she looked so familiar. He gave up the attempt. He had never noticed humans as individuals before, so he couldn't make sense of the feeling of déjà vu he felt. He laid her down as gently as he could, considering how best to do this. She was barely conscious, and there was a real likelihood of her drowning in the bath if she was alone. The bath was huge, fully four feet square, and filled to a similar depth. There were steps from one corner, leading down into the steaming water.

He decided he could do with a bath himself, and that seemed the simplest way to achieve his aim. He undressed himself first, concerned that the cool air in the bath house would chill the woman. Another glance at her told him he was worrying unnecessarily. Whatever she was wearing when she was captured had long ago disintegrated into a few filthy scraps. He removed them, and lifted her into his arms while he walked down the steps into the water.

She moaned as the water hit her skin, raw and cut as it was, but she didn't cry out in pain. He found a place on the steps where he could sit and keep her head above the water, and started to clean her. There were soft cloths and some sort of soap provided, and he soaped and washed her body, and then did the same for her hair. Again something about this felt hauntingly familiar. He seemed to know her body instinctively, and he felt his body respond to her. She seemed to be revived by his actions, and by the time he had finished, she was able to stand in the water unaided. He allowed her to move away from him, keeping a wary eye on her as he washed himself.

"Don't try anything," he warned, as he saw her eyeing the exit. "You'd never get out of the castle, and even if you did, dressed like that, you wouldn't last a day. There's snow on the ground out there, and it's not going anywhere any time soon."

He saw the spark of hope in her eyes extinguish as he pointed out her predicament. He was surprised that he felt guilty. Since when had Spike felt anything for humans? They were food, nothing more. Yet, this small woman was doing something to him that he couldn't understand.

When he had washed to his satisfaction, he got out of the water, and dried himself, leaving her to soak a while longer. When he was dry, he pulled on his trousers, but glancing at the remains of her clothes, he didn't put on his shirt or jacket. He beckoned her out of the water, and to his surprise, she came willingly enough.

"The water's going cold," she explained, and he smiled. She wasn't giving in, just waiting for a better opportunity. He'd have his work cut out with this one, he was sure of that.

He helped her to dry herself, then gave her his shirt and jacket. She had started to shiver violently as soon as she emerged from the water, and wrapped herself in the garments gratefully. When they were ready, he led her to his quarters.

The promised supplies had already arrived, and Spike locked the door behind them, and went to look through them. Buffy moved behind him, and he spotted the movement. He looked to find her eyeing his bed longingly. Remembering how she had been chained up, he gestured towards it.

"Help yourself, Love. We'll be leaving in a couple of hours, but you might as well rest until then."

She fell on the bed, pulling the meagre blankets around her, and to Spike's surprise, she was soon asleep.