Severed Ties
Chapter 36
Gambit
He'd been walking for what seemed like hours, stalking the cemeteries with the predatorial grace honed by thirteen decades of existence. But even with amber eyes that saw everything, ears that picked up the slightest muffled whimper dozens of yards away and a nose that detected the heady scent of fear a hundred yards away, Spike had found nothing. Not a demon, not a vampire. Sunnydale, for all intents and purposes, was dead.
"Just when a bit of violence would take the edge off," he whispered and lit his tenth--and final--cigarette since he'd left the Summers residence. Fat load o' did it's done for me, he thought and angrily flicked the newly lit fag out into the street. Nicotine wasn't going to be the answer, just as his desire for a scrap fell on deaf ears. He'd been avoiding this since the night in the alley but Spike understood that he was putting off the inevitable.
Hands thrust deep into his pockets of his duster and head down, the bleached blonde stalked through the gates of Restfield. As he crossed over the threshold and started the trek towards the abandoned crypt that had been his home for the better part of two years, forgotten was his need to satiate the bloodlust coursing through him. Forgotten was the pain of seeing his daughter in shambles the night before or the guilt that clawed at him for what he'd done to her. What he did remember, however, was the love and respect he'd gained from the others. Love from Buffy, Jay and Dawn, respect from the others. He needed that support now as he prepared to face something that he could not physically fight; he fought his blood's demands for the past week without anyone realizing his struggle and he would rectify it without anyone finding out. He had to if he didn't want to let them down.
Just don't be yourself, mate, he thought and cast his eyes to the familiar door of his crypt.
Closing his eyes, the vampire reached out with his senses. He cocked his head to the side, listening for something--anything--that would alert him to her presence. He remained still for several minutes, but nothing drew his attention. Taking one last look around him, Spike raised himself up and, in tribute to his slayer, kicked the door open.
The sound of the wood slamming into the concrete reverberated through the crypt and even before stepping into the chamber, Spike knew he was not alone. Candles lined the walls and floor, their flames licking at the darkness, painting the inner chamber with an eerie stroke of shadow and light. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the atmosphere his gaze fell to the voluptuous figure seated on the sarcophagus.
Candlelight reflected off her crossed legs and Spike couldn't hide the lust that coated his vision at the thin veil of material that clung to her breasts. Her face was partially shielded by her braided mane of hair but the knowing smile that graced her lips was unmistakable.
"Hello, William," Morrigann whispered and slid a finger along her thigh. "Miss me?"
*****
It didn't take long for him to find a room. As much as he didn't want to move her, the demon twins wouldn't be out long and if he was there when they awakened, someone would have died and it wouldn't have been him. And despite his desire to see D'bahn and M'ul At suffer for their violations on the humans they had brought back over the past few weeks, Frost was not stupid. Gabriel's arrival was not far off and the Vampire Lord would be thoroughly displeased if two of his greatest lieutenants were gutted by their ally. Leaving the scene was the only option.
He had wasted no time in wrapping the slight woman in his white cowl and hustling out into the night. Land's End Motel was half a dozen blocks from the lair and though it was somewhat close, Frost's natural pheromones cloaked he and the young woman's trail. He chose a room out of the way and twisted the knob off. The door swung open and he slid inside. He pulled the covers back and slid her underneath them. Pulling the single chair up to the bed, Frost sat in silence, watching, thinking.
There was nothing overly spectacular about her. True, she was beautiful but not in a striking manner. Her body, though lithe and tone, bore not the suppleness of a Morrigann or even the petite Slayer. But there was something about her, something he couldn't quite place that drew him to her. When he had walked in as M'ul At ripped her clothing off and fear drifted off her in waves, Frost's first instincts had been to tear the brothers apart. He'd immediately pulled Airendale from her sheathe and she'd muted his desire for blood, as she often did and he'd used the pommel to bash the sightless demon in the back of the head with before pulling the other away from her before slamming his face through the wall. Forcing his eyes to the naked woman had nearly driven him into a blind rage but when she stared into him and mouthed a 'thank you', his anger melted and his concern had shifted to her.
He tried to rationalize his actions. Although he was a demon and loved the violence his world presented, rape was not something he'd ever participated in. It was a deplorable act, without honor and that had been the reason his respect for Seth waned every passing day. A warrior such as the slayer abused by her captor had angered Frost enough to challenge Seth to a duel, a battle that the former had no chance of winning. And where his respect would have normally been elevated by an opponent defeating him, Frost still detested the other. True, Seth had beaten the slayer, but that did not give him pause to violate her at every turn. Death at the hands of an enemy was a respectable outcome but to be denigrated at your captor's expense…
A low moan caught his attention and Frost stared into the soft features of the young woman. Her head lolled towards him and her eyes fluttered for several seconds before opening. She blinked several times and finally focused on him. A faint smile tickled her lips and Frost found himself smiling back. He thought she was about to say something but then a shadow past over her eyes and the bright sheen of tears made itself known.
"Do not worry," he said and brushed a bang out of her face. She flinched but just barely. "You are safe."
"Where…where am I?"
"Sunnydale."
"But how did I…oh God, Charles." The tears that had been held in check burst through and he watched as her sobs cut through the otherwise silent room. He wanted to comfort her but anything he said would be trite. His desire to meditate had been the only thing that had kept him from Los Angeles. If it weren't for that, he may have been the one to slay her friends and they wouldn't be here. For once in a long time, Frost was thankful to have been left out of the fight.
He didn't know how much time passed but her cries subsided to muffled whimpers and this time Frost did put a hand on her shoulder, making sure to keep the covers between her flesh and his hand. She responded by staring up at him, her eyes, fearful yet almost trusting.
"Who are you?" she asked and her voice cracked, hoarse from her emotional outburst.
"I am…" he took pause. What should he tell her? That he will be death to those she knows here? That he saved her from violation when, in the end, she will most likely die anyway? "…a friend," he settled on.
"How did…how did you find me?"
Frost bit his lip. He wasn't used to lying or obfuscation. He'd always lived by the truth and being straightforward. But this woman couldn't take the truth, especially in her condition. She needed something—someone—to trust, to believe in. Until he figured out what to do (and soon) he was her lifeline.
"I was following them…"
"The ones that did this…" she motioned towards her nude body underneath the covers (did she even realize she was clothed by a simple cowl?)…"The ones that killed my friend and my…"
"Yes," he answered quickly, before she could dissolve into tears.
"Why…why did they do this? Why did they…"
Frost held his hand up and she calmed. "It is not about you, but about what is to come."
"Does it have anything to do with Angel?"
"The Slayer's previous vampire consort?" She nodded. "I am afraid it is. A ploy to confuse and widdle down the ranks of ou…of their enemy."
"How do you know all of this?"
"Because, I make sure to know."
"Are…are you a demon fighter?"
Frost chuckled. "Among other things."
The woman lowered her head and Frost saw her mind taking the information in. For an obvious noncombatant, Frost thought, she was taking things well. He knew that the shock had yet to filter from her veins but still, he'd expected a more hysterical reaction. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for this young woman, so strong of spirit.
"Does Buffy know? About this…about you?"
"She knows about…the players in this game, but she does not know about you. It is something that I need to rectify soon."
He saw the fear return in her eyes and he stayed the urge to hold her. "Are you going to leave me?"
"I have to, in order to contact the slayer."
"But what if…"
Frost smiled gently. "They will not find you."
"How…how do you know."
"Because you were with me, and I cannot be tracked." He saw the uncertainty written in her features and though he wanted to stay with her, Frost knew he had to leave.
Kneeling beside the bed, the cold warrior pulled his sword from its sheathe. He coaxed the woman's hands from under the sheets and placed the hilt in her palms.
"Airendale, my weapon," he said as her small hands wrapped around the pommel. "She shall protect you."
"But it's too…" her words trailed off when she lifted the giant blade as if it were paper. Frost chuckled at her wide-eyed expression and stood up.
"This is no sword of metal, but one of magic and will. And, per my will, I have passed ownership to you." He walked towards the door when the woman called him.
"I…I'm Fred," she murmured. Frost bowed and when he lifted his head, chilly eyes met the warmth of this woman--Fred--and the eternal warrior felt something burn inside of him that he thought gone for centuries.
"Frost," he whispered and walked out the door, confused by what it was Fred had started within him. When the cool night air hit him, he realized that nearly two hours had passed since he'd brought Fred to the motel. His thoughts coagulated into a uniform point, focusing on what he had to do.
He couldn't face the Slayer; regardless of his words, from what he'd studied of her, fists would be her answer and Frost didn't want that. Not yet. In truth, he had only one choice and while others couldn't track him, Frost could track anyone and anything.
Even someone he hadn't seen in two weeks.
*****
"It's been over an hour," Buffy said as she paced the living room floor. "He should've been back now."
"Come on, Buffy," Dawn said and risked a soft pat on her sister's arm. "You know how Spike is. When he needs to work off some steam, he can be gone for hours at a time."
Xander stood, squeezing Faith's hand before he did so. "Dawnster's right, Buff. Spike's more of a grab and smash kinda guy. He has something on his mind, a good old fashion pummeling usually clears that bleached poisoned brain of his right up." On Buffy's murderous scowl, Xander backpedaled. "Just a lil joke, Buffy."
"Well, it's not funny," she growled and started her pacing anew. After the pissing contest between her lover and ex and Spike's departure into the unknown, Cordelia had taken Angel back to their hotel room. And despite Buffy's reservations about separating the group, Cordelia had made a few good points. First, Angel--and Buffy herself--had needed time to cool off and second, decentralizing their forces was ideal in case of a surprise attack. That line of thinking had Buffy advising Willow and Tara to go straight to Giles's apartment instead of Revello when they arrived back in Sunnydale. They'd also decided in the hasty twenty-minute meeting to make sure everyone--including Buffy--always had a partner wherever they went. If these new enemies had the foresight to take out the Angel Investigations crew, they weren't relying on just brute force.
"Mum." Jay's voice drew Buffy out of her haze and the Slayer looked at her daughter. So much like her with a touch of Spike thrown in, Jay offered Buffy a reassuring smile and, with that as the only provocation, the young blonde embraced Jay, holding the other woman tightly. "It's gonna be okay," she whispered in Buffy's ear and the latter allowed the tears to fall, albeit silently. Jay pulled Buffy even tighter against her, their petite frames meshing, leaving little space between them and the longer she held Jay, the more Buffy felt her own strength and resolve chipping away at the anxiety of Spike being out alone.
Reluctantly pulling away, Buffy stared into the blue-green eyes of her daughter and smiled. "You're right, baby," she said. "It will be." Turning towards the remainder of the Scoobies, Buffy spoke.
"Everybody, Jay and I are going to bring Spike back--Xander, I know, it's risky but that's why I'm taking my girl here. As tough as he is, if Spike runs into TweedleDee and TweedleDumb out there alone he…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "We have to get him back here."
"B's right," Faith said, speaking up for the first time. "As tough as that stud muffin of hers is, taking on those two ugly sons of bitches won't work out for him." Faith walked over to the two women, laying her hand on either of their shoulders and smiled. "Go get your man, girls."
Forty-five minutes of trailing false scents and places he had been, the two slayers had ended up at Restfield. Somehow, the Slayer already knew this would be where they'd find him but had let Jay use her vampiric instincts to track Spike. When they passed through the gates, she couldn't shake the déjà vu that crept into her heart. She glanced over at Jay, who was scanning the area for signs of Spike. As they traversed the cemetery, something whispered to Buffy that she needed to be alone.
"Jay," Buffy whispered. "Why don't you take that quad."
"But Mum, we shouldn't be separated."
Buffy smiled, hoping that she didn't betray the torrent of emotions welling inside of her. "It'll be fine, as long as we keep each other in sight." The reluctance in Jay's eyes was clear but the young woman nodded and, pulling a dagger from her belt, jogged off into the opposite direction.
She watched Jay for a few seconds before making her way towards the place she knew Spike would be. There was no hiding from the fear curdling inside her but she wouldn't let that stop her.
It was time to face her future.
*****
CJ stared at the clock, squinting his eyes at the green numbers as if by concentration alone he could make the night pass more quickly. As it stood, 3:25 was the hour of the day and until the sun shone overhead in the clear sky, he'd stay where he was on the couch, nowhere near the comfort of his own bed.
The nightmares had started while he'd been under anesthesia and for three days afterwards. The images of a life he'd never lived, of atrocities he'd never committed had driven him to the point of insomnia. He'd yet to tell anyone; not his aunt, not Dawn. How could he? What could he say? No way could he tell her the truth, she'd have nothing to do with him afterwards. As it was, he could barely stomach looking in the mirror, for while the face wasn't the same, the eyes reflected the flecks of cruelty that had plagued him whenever he retreated into the world of dreams.
"Get over it, Jansen," he said and pushed off from the couch. He walked over to the window, flexing his arm. His breaks had healed for the most part but there were times where the injuries still bothered him. The doctors were amazed at his recovery but had made no further inquiries into the circumstances behind it. Typical Sunnydale, he thought. Dawn had told him enough about the town's residents to know that they weren't too keen on probing cases with supernatural ties.
"Dawn." Even the murmur of her name in the darkness was enough to lift his spirits. Cliched as it may have been, she was his light in the gloom his life was fast becoming. When he'd felt consumed by the bloodshed he could not un-see, thoughts of her gave him respite from his growing fear of becoming the thing in his dreams.
A shiver up his back broke CJ from his wandering thoughts. Another sign of the change, whatever that was. The tingle at the base of his spine continued throughout his limbs and CJ closed his eyes. The tremors had been a sporadic side effect of from the events two weeks prior, though they only occurred at night.
Just like the visions, he thought. The Big Bad images like creeping in the dark. He chuckled. Though he'd always been the night owl, catching rest for three or four hours in daylight only had never been part of his routine. As it was, he knew that was the only way to fight whatever it was that warred with his mind in…
A faint rustle on the porch caught the young man's attention and all worries were temporarily forgotten. Instincts honed through years of combat in the streets and abilities not his own took over and CJ crept to the door. He pulled the dagger hidden in the umbrella rack, holding in a reverse grip as his other hand turned the knob. He was slow and even with their enhanced abilities, a vampire would never be ready for the attack.
But before he pulled the door open, CJ found himself on the porch, sprawled on his back with an iron hand wrapped around his neck. Stars danced in his vision from where the back of his head had kissed the concrete and when he finally glanced up at his attacker, the young man thought he was hallucinating. But when the figure did not dissipate nor release his grip, CJ knew this was no illusion.
"Do not try to move," the man in white whispered and tightened his grip around CJ's neck. "Listen and listen well, young warrior. I have information that I believe shall prove useful…and welcome."
TBC in The Agony and The Ecstasy…