Disclaimer: Not mine all belongs to Joss
Pairings: Spike/Buffy, Spike/Giles friendship, Giles/Anya. Written from
Spike's point of view. Travelfic, action/adventure with angst and humour
based on spoilers to the end of S6, but with differences. English spelling.
Feedback gratefully received at slayerdudette@lineone.net
Knew I'd forgotten something. They call me a bloodsucker. I have, at my best, nothing on these little demons. Even being vamped hasn't stopped the little sods from dining on that perennial favourite, "Englishman abroad". But it's rather difficult to pack Jungle Formula in a coffin. Bad enough to have to use nicotine patches, but security, even on air shipping the dead, is tighter these days.
And I have to take more care than most of my fellow countrymen about the whole sunburn issue too. The ultimate sunblock given to that pillock and destroyed. I could have done with it getting out of the cargo area. But, hey, with a few bucks it wasn't hard to get to the international banks. I got enough cash to hire a Landrover in Nairobi. Drove down to the border by night, and across the border away from the crossing. A vampire doesn't need to worry 'bout lions and leopards, us predators have to stick together.
Shame can't take any pics though for the Niblet, she'd love it. Huge expanses of plains, enough wildebeest getting eaten to keep the BBC wildlife documentary export industry going for decades, and the great bulk of Kilimanjaro in the background. Love to climb it - but no way to keep out the sun on foot. Can't have everything. Course, right at the moment, it feels like I can't have anything.
But no broodage, that way lies hair that grows straight up and not this vamp! Gotta look at the positive. Lots of fresh blood on the hoof, somewhere I've never been before - which is always good. Gotta keep things fresh. Music full of great drumbeats - must send some tapes home and introduce the Niblet to World Music.
The beer - a great legacy of the British and German influence here, and a few bottles in the cooler makes a great sundowner. Could have done without digging out the landrover last night though. Clay's a bitch, even with vamp strength, and I could have well done without having to chip 4 inches of the stuff off the Docs, before I could drive again. I mean I wouldn't mind being taller - but not that way - prefer punk to glam rock.
But here it is - the village home of the last best hope of de-chipping (knew we shouldn't have watched the whelp's Babylon 5 collection last summer), without owing psychotic nerds, lawyers trying to organise the apocalypse, or dishonest surgeons.
Just a few miles from Olduvai Gorge - home of some of the oldest human ancestors they say on the telly. Must be the home of the oldest vamps too. Feels like it. All of me feels at home here. Makes me feel young actually, which is nice change.
The slayer must have arisen here too. Appropriate, since that's why I'm here. Wonder if the shaman is one of the descendants of one of those who, the ancient legends of the Order of Aurelius say, created the slayer to hunt us down?
Maybe, just hope he can do it. Need to be me - all of me. Need to be free. Need to help. Can't do that with some stupid bit of silicon in my head. So mozzie bites, clay encrusted boots, whatever tests I gotta go through here I am - bring it on!
The village was at the edge of one of the biggest volcanic craters I've ever seen. Pretty glad it must be extinct. The stars were so bright though. I've missed that in smogy, city lighted California. Dru would love 'em. Ngorongoro Crater- try saying that a few times after a few beers. Passed elephants, loads more bloody wildebeest, enough zebras to supply pedestrian crossings for half the UK, and even rhinos on the way there.
There was a bar with some great music coming out, and a beer and a chat about the football would be soo welcome right now. It's great! Man. U. has so many fans out here. Great to have a conversation about Becks and the lads prospects for the Champions League. Even better than the watcher, I mean Chelsea - come on! Can't talk about the footy with the whelp, he thinks rugby with padding that stops all the time is interesting - heathen. But gotta get this done, no sidetracks, however appealing. Last hut on the dirt track, directly by the walls of the crater, according to the directions.
The shaman, younger than I would have thought, but the eyes they were old, looked straight at me. You get used to that you know, mixing with other vampires - missed it.
"You think you know. What's to come, what you are.You haven't even begun".
Now that sounds familiar, think Red told me something with that in during the summer. Wish I could remember, maybe after some kip. "You speak English?"
"Of course, it helped a lot when I was studying in London. Of course I don't need to know your language to talk to you, not when I can touch your mind if I want to."
"Don't ! It's weird enough when Red does it, don't want too many people in here. Too much up there as it is."
"It's why you are here, you think. To free your mind and body from a bit of plastic."
"Hey, top of the range silicon here mate, but freedom, yeah."
"What would you do for that"
"What you want?"
"A promise to listen to a friend of mine if you pass the tests, oh and not to eat my friends and neighbours, even if you don't agree to his proposition. I know you are a gentleman of his word."
"Seems fair, done."
"Come, sit and we will begin. Hold her."
He passed me a skull. Seen plenty of those in my time. This one looked different though. Like those in the natural history documentaries on evolution. Brow ridges were heavier - though again, I tend to feel heavy brows on a regular basis. Felt powerful too.
"You feel her? Sineya, mother of all of us. For you and the woman you love twice over. The scientists of the west have found her, mitochondrial Eve, but we know her name. Mother of the children of the world. Mother of the First Slayer, Mother of the First Vampire. You will listen to her."
With that he put some herbs onto the fire. Here we go again. I mean I did Woodstock on acid blood, peyote down Mexico way, absinthe in Montmartre, and I'm from an era when the Queen was on Class A drugs. All lots of great anecdotes I am not supposed to tell the Nibblet, coz drugs are bad, just say no.
I stared at the fossil skull. The smoke and fumes blended to form deep brown eyes that seemed to lock me in place. The view shifted from a dark, smoky hut to open plains, beside a shallow lake, under a harsh sun. Nice to see the sun in a non-combusting sort of way, haven't felt it since the whole Gem of Amara debacle. But I couldn't just see I knew, bone deep, what I was seeing, and what the woman whose eyes I was seeing through felt.
Three girls: Oldest daughter playing with a sharpened wooden spear, running around, looking around; Middle daughter, responsible, holding a skin, gathering plants like Mother; Baby, in Mother's arms, thumb in mouth.
Seasons shift. Oldest daughter becomes a woman, gets a name - Lilit - still out to hunt, to see what was over the next hill, not interested in settling down with the men who would mate with her, wanting no constraint. Middle daughter, looking after Baby, wanting to love and take care of her. Baby still a child, loving Mother and her sisters. Mother sad for the lost sons but happy with her three girls. Happy that the monsters, the ancients stories told of, were no longer around hunting them. Animals they could cope with, the monsters no. But the monsters had mostly gone by themselves.
Then the coming of the last monster, green bone plates round its face, red eyes, mindless savagery. Lilit tries to fight it, It savages her, but she wounds it. Too late, its blood trickles into her open wounds. The tribe destroys the monster, and gathers around its lost daughter.
She rises, changed. Fangs, yellow eyes, strange brow, and thirst for blood, blended with the monster. The tribe knows not what to do. They lose their own people, lose people from other tribes. Some changed, some consumed.
Powerful ones of the tribes gather. Bring their magic together. Pull out some of the spirit animating Lilit. Put it into a warrior.
Middle daughter becomes a woman during the days long rituals. She becomes the warrior. Her name now only her function - Slayer. Only existing in hunting those changed by her sister, in the blood-cry. Only the need to protect remaining from Middle daughter.
Mother weeps, Baby kisses Slayers wounds better but is rebuffed.
Baby gets older. Slayer keeps down the children of Lilit, but can never wipe them out, always hunting, losing who she was. Only the hunt, always alone, always missing something.
Baby becomes a woman, mates, and has children of her own. The Children of Lilit consume others, so many other humans. Only Slayers tribe thrives. Slayer is killed by Lilit. Her own Baby becomes Slayer.
Over the generations Slayers appear only among her line. As Slayers keep the people alive her children are sought out as mates, and spread. Others are consumed, until only Mother's children survive.
Mother weeps for all her children.
I get thrust out, back to myself. I look at the skull. Below the empty eye sockets there is a crystalline tear. "Bloody Hell! Intense. So what now" I ask the Shaman.
"Swallow the tear. That is the first step. You have been shown the past, who we are."
"I do. It burns, it cleanses."
"Drink this, it's cows blood, I think you need it. It's what we drink with milk, but I expect you wouldn't want a shake. Then I think you need a break, go along to the bar and I will call you."
Not sure how long I was out but the blood was most definitely welcome. Still felt a bit spacey so I walked rather than drove back to the bar. Getting some air cleared my head a bit. Got to the wooden building, with the music blaring, and the wonderful scent of beer. I pushed the door open, and now I know I'm stoned. "Giles?????"
"Quite! Does really require something of a Grateful Dead meets Led Zeppelin soundtrack I think."
Looks like Giles, seen the record collection, so sounds like Giles. That Planet Gong record confirms he must have done a lot of the good stuff in the pre-Tweed era. Haven't seen the Watcher Safari Collection before, but this does appear to be Giles. "What the bloody hell are you doing here! Thought you were back home, hiding under a very large rock from all we've heard from you recently. And by the way, still haven't forgiven you from walking away from the Slayer when she really needed you. Might have been able to talk some sense into her, Red, and the Whelp. Nobody else seems to be able to."
"Good to see you too Spike."
"You aren't going to start cleaning your glasses anytime soon are you? Only can somebody get me a beer first? I'm stinking of funky herbs, I'm covered in mozzie bites, I just had a trip to the beginning of human time and evolution, swallowed something new even for me, and am still not sure what its done to me. All that and here's someone I thought was back home, reading the Sun, getting a decent full English breakfast, and poncing about with the Council of Wankers. I'm hot, tired, confused and in need of somebody telling me what's going on. Sounds like the story of my life recently, come to think about it."
" Stay here." At which Giles headed off to the bar, chatting with the locals in Swahili on the way there and back. Seems to have been here a while. They all seemed to know him, and handed him two beers from the cold part of the fridge.
" Let's go outside and have a proper talk. It'll take a while and the music could prove distracting. There is a great view of the animals from by the water hole a few miles away. We'll take my landrover, as there is no way on earth I'm driving with you. Things haven't changed that much."
"Hey I wasn't the one that crashed the winnebago! Sorry - all right! Anyway sun'll be up soon, and, Hello Vampire!"
"Come on. Samuel wouldn't let me do anything to hurt you, even if I did want to. And after all "Band of Buggered" and all that."
"Thought you'd forgot that, all that never wanting my opinion and so on. Nope, who wants to listen to the evil bloodsucking thing - especially when he's right!"
"Spike, I'm sorry for saying the not wanting your opinion. I was wrong. Two things I never want to have to say again. So come on, and we can talk about all this."
So, somewhat in shock, I grab the beers. Clambered into the landrover and we headed off down the track. The watcher drove this a lot faster than the old winnebago, and soon we were sitting under a nice shady acacia tree, with a couple of cold ones.
Sometimes its good to still be around you know. African dawn, huge colourful skies, pure air, vast plain within a huge volcanic crater, and enormous herds of animals. The elephants dominated the water hole much as the Slayer did the hell-mouth. But the zebras, wildebeest and gazelles all took their morning drinks before it got too hot, ahead of another busy morning trying to avoid getting eaten by the predators lurking in the background, so hey back to the hell-mouth metaphor - and always fun to watch.
"OK, my head's clearing up now, and you haven't answered any of my questions."
"Answers, all right - in no particular order or any preferences. Some are longer than others."
"Hah! Whatever! Oh wielder of the mighty answers. Just in case Alzheimer's has set in I will recap. How come you are here? Why haven't you been in touch? How do you know the shaman well enough to call him Samuel? I was told to address him as Shaman. What's happened to me? And I reserve the right for more questions, as I'm sure there will be a supplementary."
"Introduced his sister to her husband. He helped us with the Faith situation; you might have heard that story. The two of them were friends of mine during the Ethan period, but far too sensible to raise demons, didn't need to. So I count as family. The "what I have been doing" will take a long time, and I will tell you later. You are after-all vital in it. But what has happened to you so far. I can show you."
He grabs my beer and pushes me out of the shade into the early morning sun.
I'm diving back to the shade when I realise I'm not smoking. Nope, not a singe, not a whiff of smoke. More to the point the early morning African sunshine actually feels pleasant, not too hot yet and at this altitude with a freshness all too lacking in the land of the combustion engine and people who can't seem to walk anywhere. Ok, in Sunnydale that is a valid survival choice after dark, but hey, I watch Jerry Springer, and I think I work with some of the only thin people in the States, Whelp notwithstanding.
"You utter, utter bastard. I should. Hey, why don't I want to tear your head off and play football with it? I should you know! For 120 years any git did that to me, that's what I'd want to do! Play the xylophone with your spinal column! What the bloody hell is happening to me? I don't wanna do that."
"First of all put some of this on. I don't want to hear you whinging later on about getting sunburnt on top of the rest. And I really don't think 120 years of vampire-hood builds a base tan" And he tosses me some SPF 25, and reaches into a battered daypack. "And put this on."
"Its purple! I am not wearing a purple fedora. Man's gotta have some standards!"
"And a man also has to avoid a sunburnt nose and ears. Put it on. I don't need it anymore, already got the tan."
"Only if I finally get that bloody explanation. Getting impatient here Watcher."
"OK. The reason you are not burning is a side effect of the Tear of The Mother you consumed earlier. You knew, I believe the Shaman could cure your affliction, so to speak. What was your affliction? Remind me."
"Bloody hell Watcher you know, you were around. Can't fight humans, can't defend myself, can't save others from humans, no matter how hard I work through the pain. Can't be me. Can't live in a cage, gotta be me."
"That's part of it. The chip no longer works. You have what you say you want. But nothing works in isolation. The energy the chip emits cannot be destroyed, only transformed. I think it's this quantum mechanics thing that Hawkins chap talks about in A Short History of Time - but I can't get past chapter 3. Anyway, away from a poor choice of aeroplane reading material. Everything is part of a system. Did you ever wonder why vampires can't go sunbathing?"
"Umm, God, impurity, the usual dammed for all eternity bit leaps to mind."
"Blood. It is all down to blood in the end. You were right in the shop, dam! Again! Other demons can walk in sunlight. Vampires can't. You saw the genesis of the first vampire, so did I. It was imperfect, an accidental infection almost, not meant to be in nature. It was through the blood. That blood never became melded into a single form, it varies. I think that's why some vampire lineages produce powerful individuals, and others mindless killers. It is also unstable in the presence of energy such as the sun - hence vampire flambé.
What you are now is melded. You are still a vampire; nothing natural can reverse the fact you died in 1880. You will still need to drink blood but you won't crave it. There is no need to try and balance an unsolvable equation within your own veins anymore. That is part of why you don't feel the need to eat me.
As for playing the xylophone with my spinal column. That is another effect of the Tear. Vampires lose their human soul, but the blood introduces another animating force, a demon soul if you will, a part of the original demon blended with Lilit. A force of mindless destruction joined with an unrestrained ID. That was the moral compass if you like, handed down to you and other vampires. That compass has been re-orientated."
"Hey, not part of the deal! I'm evil!"
"Package deal Spike. And cut that out, we all know you haven't been evil for some time now. We all know it, well maybe not Xander. Its time to grow up. You got a longer adolescence than most of us, and free will is a responsibility you are ready for. I once spoke of a higher purpose of your chipping to you, and you scorned it. I don't think that would be the case now. I hope I'm right."
"Just don't tell me I'm supposed to start brooding. I may have to stake myself."
"It's set to neutral Spike. Its not a curse, its innate. Now go and get something to eat. And Spike - don't eat the endangered species."
Knew I'd forgotten something. They call me a bloodsucker. I have, at my best, nothing on these little demons. Even being vamped hasn't stopped the little sods from dining on that perennial favourite, "Englishman abroad". But it's rather difficult to pack Jungle Formula in a coffin. Bad enough to have to use nicotine patches, but security, even on air shipping the dead, is tighter these days.
And I have to take more care than most of my fellow countrymen about the whole sunburn issue too. The ultimate sunblock given to that pillock and destroyed. I could have done with it getting out of the cargo area. But, hey, with a few bucks it wasn't hard to get to the international banks. I got enough cash to hire a Landrover in Nairobi. Drove down to the border by night, and across the border away from the crossing. A vampire doesn't need to worry 'bout lions and leopards, us predators have to stick together.
Shame can't take any pics though for the Niblet, she'd love it. Huge expanses of plains, enough wildebeest getting eaten to keep the BBC wildlife documentary export industry going for decades, and the great bulk of Kilimanjaro in the background. Love to climb it - but no way to keep out the sun on foot. Can't have everything. Course, right at the moment, it feels like I can't have anything.
But no broodage, that way lies hair that grows straight up and not this vamp! Gotta look at the positive. Lots of fresh blood on the hoof, somewhere I've never been before - which is always good. Gotta keep things fresh. Music full of great drumbeats - must send some tapes home and introduce the Niblet to World Music.
The beer - a great legacy of the British and German influence here, and a few bottles in the cooler makes a great sundowner. Could have done without digging out the landrover last night though. Clay's a bitch, even with vamp strength, and I could have well done without having to chip 4 inches of the stuff off the Docs, before I could drive again. I mean I wouldn't mind being taller - but not that way - prefer punk to glam rock.
But here it is - the village home of the last best hope of de-chipping (knew we shouldn't have watched the whelp's Babylon 5 collection last summer), without owing psychotic nerds, lawyers trying to organise the apocalypse, or dishonest surgeons.
Just a few miles from Olduvai Gorge - home of some of the oldest human ancestors they say on the telly. Must be the home of the oldest vamps too. Feels like it. All of me feels at home here. Makes me feel young actually, which is nice change.
The slayer must have arisen here too. Appropriate, since that's why I'm here. Wonder if the shaman is one of the descendants of one of those who, the ancient legends of the Order of Aurelius say, created the slayer to hunt us down?
Maybe, just hope he can do it. Need to be me - all of me. Need to be free. Need to help. Can't do that with some stupid bit of silicon in my head. So mozzie bites, clay encrusted boots, whatever tests I gotta go through here I am - bring it on!
The village was at the edge of one of the biggest volcanic craters I've ever seen. Pretty glad it must be extinct. The stars were so bright though. I've missed that in smogy, city lighted California. Dru would love 'em. Ngorongoro Crater- try saying that a few times after a few beers. Passed elephants, loads more bloody wildebeest, enough zebras to supply pedestrian crossings for half the UK, and even rhinos on the way there.
There was a bar with some great music coming out, and a beer and a chat about the football would be soo welcome right now. It's great! Man. U. has so many fans out here. Great to have a conversation about Becks and the lads prospects for the Champions League. Even better than the watcher, I mean Chelsea - come on! Can't talk about the footy with the whelp, he thinks rugby with padding that stops all the time is interesting - heathen. But gotta get this done, no sidetracks, however appealing. Last hut on the dirt track, directly by the walls of the crater, according to the directions.
The shaman, younger than I would have thought, but the eyes they were old, looked straight at me. You get used to that you know, mixing with other vampires - missed it.
"You think you know. What's to come, what you are.You haven't even begun".
Now that sounds familiar, think Red told me something with that in during the summer. Wish I could remember, maybe after some kip. "You speak English?"
"Of course, it helped a lot when I was studying in London. Of course I don't need to know your language to talk to you, not when I can touch your mind if I want to."
"Don't ! It's weird enough when Red does it, don't want too many people in here. Too much up there as it is."
"It's why you are here, you think. To free your mind and body from a bit of plastic."
"Hey, top of the range silicon here mate, but freedom, yeah."
"What would you do for that"
"What you want?"
"A promise to listen to a friend of mine if you pass the tests, oh and not to eat my friends and neighbours, even if you don't agree to his proposition. I know you are a gentleman of his word."
"Seems fair, done."
"Come, sit and we will begin. Hold her."
He passed me a skull. Seen plenty of those in my time. This one looked different though. Like those in the natural history documentaries on evolution. Brow ridges were heavier - though again, I tend to feel heavy brows on a regular basis. Felt powerful too.
"You feel her? Sineya, mother of all of us. For you and the woman you love twice over. The scientists of the west have found her, mitochondrial Eve, but we know her name. Mother of the children of the world. Mother of the First Slayer, Mother of the First Vampire. You will listen to her."
With that he put some herbs onto the fire. Here we go again. I mean I did Woodstock on acid blood, peyote down Mexico way, absinthe in Montmartre, and I'm from an era when the Queen was on Class A drugs. All lots of great anecdotes I am not supposed to tell the Nibblet, coz drugs are bad, just say no.
I stared at the fossil skull. The smoke and fumes blended to form deep brown eyes that seemed to lock me in place. The view shifted from a dark, smoky hut to open plains, beside a shallow lake, under a harsh sun. Nice to see the sun in a non-combusting sort of way, haven't felt it since the whole Gem of Amara debacle. But I couldn't just see I knew, bone deep, what I was seeing, and what the woman whose eyes I was seeing through felt.
Three girls: Oldest daughter playing with a sharpened wooden spear, running around, looking around; Middle daughter, responsible, holding a skin, gathering plants like Mother; Baby, in Mother's arms, thumb in mouth.
Seasons shift. Oldest daughter becomes a woman, gets a name - Lilit - still out to hunt, to see what was over the next hill, not interested in settling down with the men who would mate with her, wanting no constraint. Middle daughter, looking after Baby, wanting to love and take care of her. Baby still a child, loving Mother and her sisters. Mother sad for the lost sons but happy with her three girls. Happy that the monsters, the ancients stories told of, were no longer around hunting them. Animals they could cope with, the monsters no. But the monsters had mostly gone by themselves.
Then the coming of the last monster, green bone plates round its face, red eyes, mindless savagery. Lilit tries to fight it, It savages her, but she wounds it. Too late, its blood trickles into her open wounds. The tribe destroys the monster, and gathers around its lost daughter.
She rises, changed. Fangs, yellow eyes, strange brow, and thirst for blood, blended with the monster. The tribe knows not what to do. They lose their own people, lose people from other tribes. Some changed, some consumed.
Powerful ones of the tribes gather. Bring their magic together. Pull out some of the spirit animating Lilit. Put it into a warrior.
Middle daughter becomes a woman during the days long rituals. She becomes the warrior. Her name now only her function - Slayer. Only existing in hunting those changed by her sister, in the blood-cry. Only the need to protect remaining from Middle daughter.
Mother weeps, Baby kisses Slayers wounds better but is rebuffed.
Baby gets older. Slayer keeps down the children of Lilit, but can never wipe them out, always hunting, losing who she was. Only the hunt, always alone, always missing something.
Baby becomes a woman, mates, and has children of her own. The Children of Lilit consume others, so many other humans. Only Slayers tribe thrives. Slayer is killed by Lilit. Her own Baby becomes Slayer.
Over the generations Slayers appear only among her line. As Slayers keep the people alive her children are sought out as mates, and spread. Others are consumed, until only Mother's children survive.
Mother weeps for all her children.
I get thrust out, back to myself. I look at the skull. Below the empty eye sockets there is a crystalline tear. "Bloody Hell! Intense. So what now" I ask the Shaman.
"Swallow the tear. That is the first step. You have been shown the past, who we are."
"I do. It burns, it cleanses."
"Drink this, it's cows blood, I think you need it. It's what we drink with milk, but I expect you wouldn't want a shake. Then I think you need a break, go along to the bar and I will call you."
Not sure how long I was out but the blood was most definitely welcome. Still felt a bit spacey so I walked rather than drove back to the bar. Getting some air cleared my head a bit. Got to the wooden building, with the music blaring, and the wonderful scent of beer. I pushed the door open, and now I know I'm stoned. "Giles?????"
"Quite! Does really require something of a Grateful Dead meets Led Zeppelin soundtrack I think."
Looks like Giles, seen the record collection, so sounds like Giles. That Planet Gong record confirms he must have done a lot of the good stuff in the pre-Tweed era. Haven't seen the Watcher Safari Collection before, but this does appear to be Giles. "What the bloody hell are you doing here! Thought you were back home, hiding under a very large rock from all we've heard from you recently. And by the way, still haven't forgiven you from walking away from the Slayer when she really needed you. Might have been able to talk some sense into her, Red, and the Whelp. Nobody else seems to be able to."
"Good to see you too Spike."
"You aren't going to start cleaning your glasses anytime soon are you? Only can somebody get me a beer first? I'm stinking of funky herbs, I'm covered in mozzie bites, I just had a trip to the beginning of human time and evolution, swallowed something new even for me, and am still not sure what its done to me. All that and here's someone I thought was back home, reading the Sun, getting a decent full English breakfast, and poncing about with the Council of Wankers. I'm hot, tired, confused and in need of somebody telling me what's going on. Sounds like the story of my life recently, come to think about it."
" Stay here." At which Giles headed off to the bar, chatting with the locals in Swahili on the way there and back. Seems to have been here a while. They all seemed to know him, and handed him two beers from the cold part of the fridge.
" Let's go outside and have a proper talk. It'll take a while and the music could prove distracting. There is a great view of the animals from by the water hole a few miles away. We'll take my landrover, as there is no way on earth I'm driving with you. Things haven't changed that much."
"Hey I wasn't the one that crashed the winnebago! Sorry - all right! Anyway sun'll be up soon, and, Hello Vampire!"
"Come on. Samuel wouldn't let me do anything to hurt you, even if I did want to. And after all "Band of Buggered" and all that."
"Thought you'd forgot that, all that never wanting my opinion and so on. Nope, who wants to listen to the evil bloodsucking thing - especially when he's right!"
"Spike, I'm sorry for saying the not wanting your opinion. I was wrong. Two things I never want to have to say again. So come on, and we can talk about all this."
So, somewhat in shock, I grab the beers. Clambered into the landrover and we headed off down the track. The watcher drove this a lot faster than the old winnebago, and soon we were sitting under a nice shady acacia tree, with a couple of cold ones.
Sometimes its good to still be around you know. African dawn, huge colourful skies, pure air, vast plain within a huge volcanic crater, and enormous herds of animals. The elephants dominated the water hole much as the Slayer did the hell-mouth. But the zebras, wildebeest and gazelles all took their morning drinks before it got too hot, ahead of another busy morning trying to avoid getting eaten by the predators lurking in the background, so hey back to the hell-mouth metaphor - and always fun to watch.
"OK, my head's clearing up now, and you haven't answered any of my questions."
"Answers, all right - in no particular order or any preferences. Some are longer than others."
"Hah! Whatever! Oh wielder of the mighty answers. Just in case Alzheimer's has set in I will recap. How come you are here? Why haven't you been in touch? How do you know the shaman well enough to call him Samuel? I was told to address him as Shaman. What's happened to me? And I reserve the right for more questions, as I'm sure there will be a supplementary."
"Introduced his sister to her husband. He helped us with the Faith situation; you might have heard that story. The two of them were friends of mine during the Ethan period, but far too sensible to raise demons, didn't need to. So I count as family. The "what I have been doing" will take a long time, and I will tell you later. You are after-all vital in it. But what has happened to you so far. I can show you."
He grabs my beer and pushes me out of the shade into the early morning sun.
I'm diving back to the shade when I realise I'm not smoking. Nope, not a singe, not a whiff of smoke. More to the point the early morning African sunshine actually feels pleasant, not too hot yet and at this altitude with a freshness all too lacking in the land of the combustion engine and people who can't seem to walk anywhere. Ok, in Sunnydale that is a valid survival choice after dark, but hey, I watch Jerry Springer, and I think I work with some of the only thin people in the States, Whelp notwithstanding.
"You utter, utter bastard. I should. Hey, why don't I want to tear your head off and play football with it? I should you know! For 120 years any git did that to me, that's what I'd want to do! Play the xylophone with your spinal column! What the bloody hell is happening to me? I don't wanna do that."
"First of all put some of this on. I don't want to hear you whinging later on about getting sunburnt on top of the rest. And I really don't think 120 years of vampire-hood builds a base tan" And he tosses me some SPF 25, and reaches into a battered daypack. "And put this on."
"Its purple! I am not wearing a purple fedora. Man's gotta have some standards!"
"And a man also has to avoid a sunburnt nose and ears. Put it on. I don't need it anymore, already got the tan."
"Only if I finally get that bloody explanation. Getting impatient here Watcher."
"OK. The reason you are not burning is a side effect of the Tear of The Mother you consumed earlier. You knew, I believe the Shaman could cure your affliction, so to speak. What was your affliction? Remind me."
"Bloody hell Watcher you know, you were around. Can't fight humans, can't defend myself, can't save others from humans, no matter how hard I work through the pain. Can't be me. Can't live in a cage, gotta be me."
"That's part of it. The chip no longer works. You have what you say you want. But nothing works in isolation. The energy the chip emits cannot be destroyed, only transformed. I think it's this quantum mechanics thing that Hawkins chap talks about in A Short History of Time - but I can't get past chapter 3. Anyway, away from a poor choice of aeroplane reading material. Everything is part of a system. Did you ever wonder why vampires can't go sunbathing?"
"Umm, God, impurity, the usual dammed for all eternity bit leaps to mind."
"Blood. It is all down to blood in the end. You were right in the shop, dam! Again! Other demons can walk in sunlight. Vampires can't. You saw the genesis of the first vampire, so did I. It was imperfect, an accidental infection almost, not meant to be in nature. It was through the blood. That blood never became melded into a single form, it varies. I think that's why some vampire lineages produce powerful individuals, and others mindless killers. It is also unstable in the presence of energy such as the sun - hence vampire flambé.
What you are now is melded. You are still a vampire; nothing natural can reverse the fact you died in 1880. You will still need to drink blood but you won't crave it. There is no need to try and balance an unsolvable equation within your own veins anymore. That is part of why you don't feel the need to eat me.
As for playing the xylophone with my spinal column. That is another effect of the Tear. Vampires lose their human soul, but the blood introduces another animating force, a demon soul if you will, a part of the original demon blended with Lilit. A force of mindless destruction joined with an unrestrained ID. That was the moral compass if you like, handed down to you and other vampires. That compass has been re-orientated."
"Hey, not part of the deal! I'm evil!"
"Package deal Spike. And cut that out, we all know you haven't been evil for some time now. We all know it, well maybe not Xander. Its time to grow up. You got a longer adolescence than most of us, and free will is a responsibility you are ready for. I once spoke of a higher purpose of your chipping to you, and you scorned it. I don't think that would be the case now. I hope I'm right."
"Just don't tell me I'm supposed to start brooding. I may have to stake myself."
"It's set to neutral Spike. Its not a curse, its innate. Now go and get something to eat. And Spike - don't eat the endangered species."
