Sorry for the lack of updates everyone. I did not abandon this story, I am a good little girl and will finish it. Real life decided to come barreling right in and I got a little sidetracked but I'm back now. Yay!
And also, to people who got five hundred billion chapter update emials last month, I officially declare myself an idiot. Somehow I managed to delete and switch the chapters to the point where it was impossible to fix without restarting the whole fucking process. Sorry, I am an idiot.
Now, on with the story!
Chapter 15. Part 1.
Spike stared into Angel's sardonic eyes, careful to remain as neutral as possible. His sire stood in front of him ominously, weight on his right foot jutting out his hip, smiling and staring as if watching a mouse search frantically to find its way out of a maze that's only escape was booby trapped.
The weight of the silence was intense. Neither spoke verbally, but an implicit dialogue passed between them, long memorized and rehearsed, it seemed, in preparation for that day.
Spike was vaguely aware of his surroundings. Four vampires stood to the side, tittering and glancing between one another charily, not fully meeting the other's gaze.
He also knew he was in a warehouse, the same as before, with the exact same smells and sounds. The only difference was now he was actually conscious and not lying in a pool of his own blood…yet. Hey, things were looking up already.
The strain on Spike's arms was already beginning to tear at his muscles, so he shifted, hoping to find a more comfortable position, but his toes barely skimmed the floor, the steel cable suspending him above the ground. It sliced deeper into his wrists with the rearrangement; more blood stains trickling down his arms, across the planes of his bare alabaster stomach to be absorbed by the waistband of his pants.
"So you caught me, bully for you. What'd you win?"
Angel chuckled dryly in that creepy hair raising way only he could manage. "It's not about what I won, Spike. It's about what you lost."
"Yeah? And what, pray tell, would that be?"
"Everything…and nothing at all. You never really had anything before, did ya? Always living off of everyone else: Angel, Dru, Buffy. But they never loved you; they took all they could until nothing was left. So, you've never even had yourself, have you?"
Spike pursed his lips and held his head higher in defiance, images of Angelus lying dead in a pool of blood and gore flashing behind his eyes.
"This arrogance, this bravado, confidence…it isn't you." Angel ran his fingertips down Spike's torso lightly, goose bumps immediately following his trail. "I've seen the real you, William. I've seen the pathetic despicable nothing you are."
"Get off me, you ponce!" he growled, kicking at Angel when he didn't step back. The cable swung with the shift in weight, steel digging into his raw flesh. He tried to steady himself, stretching to get his toes on the cement floor, but he wasn't tall enough and the cord kept swinging, spinning gently.
Angel jumped back, avoiding his feet and laughing mockingly. He seemed to be growing tired of toying with him as he paid more attention to the band of vampires in the corner.
He cast a final look in his direction, smirking and pointing at the floor below him. "Stay there."
Spike gritted his teeth and reminded himself that back talk would only get him in more trouble—probably resulting in a painful end—and that he should concentrate on escaping.
Angelus talked quietly with the skittish vampires, glancing back occasionally. It was obvious he was not in control of the situation, so he must've been scouted out by the Pères de Tomes. But what interest did he have in their plan? And for that matter, what was their plan?
They obviously needed him alive, or he would've been dust weeks ago. He didn't have anything they wanted though. Unless there was some prophecy he was inadvertently involved in.
And there was no way anyone in their right mind would go through this much trouble just for revenge. Spike wiped out the Pères de Tomes over a century ago; he was surprised even he remembered it. But then again, vampires were never known for having a sane mind.
Angel sent the four vamps on their way, watching as they vanished behind a door in the corner of the room and he pulled up a chair in front of him. In the dark room, his eyes glowed with a supernatural yellow tinge, almost of a cat, a golden fleck amidst the deep brown that held a persons attention like hypnotism. He crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest, lighting up a cigarette.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. Spike tried to read his sire, tried to figure out what his angle was, but all he saw was Angelus, no sign of Angel on his closed face.
"What game are you playing, Angelus? Could be miles away, playing tiddley winks with the slayer instead you're cooped up in a stuffy warehouse with you're all too favorite childe." Something didn't add up. Sure, Angelus wanted to make him suffer, but never had he gone through this much trouble when Buffy was within reach, as much as he hated thinking of that idea.
He took a contemplative drag on his cigarette and leaned back in his chair. "Not playing any games, Spike. The slayer will come in her own time, once the world goes up in flames. Hell, she might even be on her way here now, her little naïve Scooby gang in tow.
I must say, bringing in the witch bitch…very smart move. But that'll only work to motivate my slayer even more. I expect her here in…four hours. Five if the traffic gets backed up. People can feel it. Can't you? The impending doom, hell on earth, fire and brimstone…and its all because of you."
Spike looked at Angel skeptically, trying to make sense of the situation. "What are you going on about? I'm the one chained to the bloody roof. 'M not causing anything."
"The thing about revenge is, you don't have to do anything. You already did, and someone is still very pissed off."
The door in the corner creaked open; a few minions scuttling out followed by another new vampire, adorned in black, the end of a cloak dragging behind his feet.
"Speak of the bastard. Tom! How are you? Still as bright and vivid as ever I see," Angel said with fake enthusiasm, not getting up from his chair to acknowledge his presence.
"It's Aries now, not that I'd expect you to remember…or care."
He spoke with a rough French accent, his voice gravelly and ancient. He had long dark hair that hung below his shoulders and was frizzy enough to look unkempt for at least a month. His red lips framed razor sharp white fangs that were eternal, without need to change face, which showed his age. Only vampires hundreds and hundreds of years old had that attribute.
Spike noticed he walked with a fabricated grace, an impression of what he wished himself to be. He'd seen that type before, hell, his sire was that type. This story had been played over so many times it was ridiculous.
"So…this is Spike, is it? Truly a sight to behold."
The vampire looked him over, grazing his skin with his dark amethyst eyes, and he motioned to the minions that flanked him to remove his cloak. They hastily did so and handed him a chalice of blood before being dismissed.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this."
"And what exactly is this, mate? Cuz I have no bloody idea who the fuck you are except a bloke that has too much arrogance crammed into an extremely outdated noggin."
Indignation flashed across the elder's face, his lips forming a tight line of impatience. "You do best to show me the proper respect, boy."
"And you'd do best to shove off, old man."
"Told ya' he was a difficult one. Hey, think you could get me a body or something? Feeling a bit grumbly myself." Angel examined his nails, picking the grime from under them.
"I do not serve you, Angelus. And why are you still here? I do not wish you to be in my presence."
Angel spoke without looking up, obviously aggravating Aries more than necessary. "Drop the poncey act, Tom. It won't work on me, and I guarantee it will not work on him. Now get one of your servant boys to fetch me a body and it better be fresh or I walk and he comes with."
"If you leave, how do expect you're little slayer to come running?"
"She's already running, I promise you. Always comes running back to daddy."
"Fine," He grudgingly agreed, turning to a insignificant little minion hiding in the shadows, "You! Get him a body now. And make it fresh, wouldn't want the mighty Angelus to have spoiled blood."
With a nod of the head and mumblings of compliance, the vampire scampered out of the room.
Spike watched all of this in a daze of confusion, trying to piece together exactly what was going on.
"Now, back to business…" He stared at Spike blankly, forehead creasing in concentration.
"You were about to tell me what the hell is going on, remember? Or has you're brain turned to mush in your exceptionally old age?"
He ignored the obvious jab. "I bet you are wondering why you are here?"
"Well, yeah, are you deaf?"
"You're brash tongue will not save you. I advise you to bite it before I'm forced to make you." He paused and composed himself, sniffing huffily. "You are here because I wish you to be. You made a grave mistake a century ago, one that you deserve to pay for."
"I already have. Remember the speared to the floor bit? Not my fondest moment, mind you."
"A few hours of pain do not suffice for the hundreds of my brethrens lives."
"So what was that then? Just a way to get your jollies off, pinning the spike to the sodding floor?"
"Precisely, yes. It was quite entertaining, I assure you. Your perfect skin…what a shame to have been marred so beautifully and not have any souvenirs." Aries ran the pads of his fingers along Spike's chest and down his abs. "But this time, this time it is a much different situation. It is still about revenge, it is always about revenge, but this time there is a purpose, a plan, one that you play an integral part in."
Spike held his defiance in place, holding back and trying not to piss him off until story time was over. "And my part would be…"
"You are a key, if you will. You are my key to opening the world between Diathaus and this dimension." He continued strolling circles around him, pausing every so often to take a gulp of blood.
A key? The reference was too similar to Dawn and made him shudder involuntarily. In fact, the entire scenario was strikingly similar to Glory's plan. Did any villain ever come up with their own plan?
"A key, huh? And why am I the lucky bastard to open hell?"
"Oh, don't get your hopes up. You're not special, not by far. I just hate you."
"Right, well, the feelings mutual."
"Diathus is our god. The one and only god and soon to be your one and only as well. He is stronger and better than any being you will ever meet in your tiny trivial life. Once brought here, he will reign supreme. Everyone shall bow--"
"—Blah blah blah blah blah. All this prophetic magical mumbo jumbo isn't new and definitely is not original. And if you paid any bloody attention whatsoever, you'd realize that the bad guys always lose. Believe me, I've tried many many times."
Aries did not respond and Angelus laughed loudly.
"What's so funny Angelus? Do not forget, I can easily change you back into your old dismal self just like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis and stormed out, tossing is glass against the wall.
Angel continued to laugh. "God, I hate that guy."
"Right there with you, mate."
Angel stood and ground his cigarette beneath his shoe. "Hey! How about that body?" He yelled over his shoulder.
Seconds later the door burst open, two vampires throwing a struggling young girl onto the floor and retreating. She laid there, crying softly and trembling, her long black hair fanned over her shoulders and the ground.
"Lookie lookie, a play toy." Angel waltzed over to her calmly, nudging her shoulder with the toe of his boot. "Excuse me miss, is something wrong?"
Spike cringed and wanted to close his eyes, hide from what he knew all too well was coming, but found himself captivated by the scene.
She peeked out from under her hair, whimpering. "Please don't, don't hurt me, please."
"Oh, don't worry, it won't hurt much. I promise I'll do it nice..." he gruffly picked her up from the floor, holding onto her shoulders forcefully, "and…" he pulled her along with him, closer to Spike until they were less than a yard away, "fast."
Angel morphed into vampiric visage, allowing her a glimpse of his demonic face before viciously biting into her neck, growling hungrily. She tried to cry out, but found her voice forsaken in fear.
Spike felt his soul cry out for her, pushing to help but he looked on impassively, trying not to give in to the mind games Angelus reveled in.
Chapter 15. Part 2.
Spike was roused from his thoughts by a familiar voice resonating through his head. He searched the room, or what he could see of it, but knew no one occupied it except him. Everyone had cleared out hours ago.
Occasionally he could make out raised voices or shuffling feet in the other room, through the mysterious closed door under which the only light in the building shone. Even his paranormal eyesight did not compensate for the peculiarly dark and sinister shadows he was left dangling in.
By that point, Spike wasn't sure he had heard anything at all until the voice resurfaced, calling his name again.
"Willow?" It was a stab in the dark, literally.
"Spike, thank god I found you. I wasn't sure if my magic was strong enough yet and it took me a few tries but yay, I found you."
He wiggled, trying to get a better perspective of the enclosed room. "Where are you? I can't see you…"
"Course not, I'm in your head. Magic Wicca, remember?"
"Oh, yeah." Now he felt a tad too much blonde. "Umm…" It felt stupid and ridiculous to talk out loud, not to mention dangerous alerting the enemy, but he felt even weirder about thinking when Willow was listening. Could she hear him now?
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, not sure for how long though. Something big is going down, Red, and yours truly is the party favor."
"How big?"
"Real big. Destroying the world big."
She didn't reply right away and he almost thought she broke the connection. "Is Angel with you? Is he alright?"
He scoffed, but realized she couldn't hear him. "Sure, granddad's right as rain. Still evil as can be, oh and did I mention, still trying to open a dimension to hell?"
"You mean like Acathla?"
"No…maybe, I don't know. Aries, or Tom, whatever, is going to use me to open a, whatchya call it…a portal to a hell dimension and bring his god into this world."
"What does Angel have to do with that? He wouldn't help them if there wasn't anything in it for him."
"Damn right, selfish ponce. He's doing this for Buffy. Once she hears that hell is literally breaking loose, she comes a runnin' and he doesn't have to get off his lazy ass to kill her."
"Because she'll come to him. Right, that makes sense in a twisted sorta way."
"So how's this gonna play out?"
"We come, get Angel all soully again, stop the big bad and save the world."
"Not going to be easy as that, pet."
"Why not?"
"Never is. Plus, you don't even know where I am yet."
"Good point. Where are you?"
"Uh…" He wasn't sure where the hell he was. Not like he had a chance to go sight seeing or was given the grand tour or something.
"Well, it smells like the ocean, there are stacks of crates, and I think there are some fish somewhere. Best guess: the docks."
"Docks, right. I tried a locator spell but they must have the place magically safeguarded."
He zoned out, paying more attention to the going-ons in the next room. A long shadow appeared under the door, blocking out the light. The doorknob twisted and a procession of minions entered, each carrying a box.
"Spike? Are you still there?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Better hurry, the party's about to start."
"Okay. We're on our way. Hold on, all right? Don't go all dusty on me again."
"I'll try. Take care, Red."
Her connection left his mind quickly; leaving a tiny empty spot that he didn't know had been filled. Willow was a familiar presence, a place of comfort and without her, everything felt cold.
The group of fledglings filing into the room slowed, circling him and each unloading their box. They placed a bundle of four candles on the cement floor, followed by a wooden bowl filled with green, woody scented herbs and then waited mutely.
Willow hastily relayed the story to the rest of the team, still smarting from the previous battle and wary to march into another.
They stood before her, nursing injuries, waiting for her plan. She had given the quick version to Spike, depending on him to trust her, which she couldn't entirely do herself because there wasn't much of a plan in the first place. Just a goal: stop the apocalypse. Hopefully she could communicate that to the troops with more conviction than she felt.
"Uh…" Yeah, that was a great confident start. "I know that going into this might seem kinda rushed and unrehearsed and maybe a bit reckless, but we can do this. We're seasoned professionals by now, right?" She laughed awkwardly. "So…we can do this? Did I say that already?"
They stared at her doubtfully, apprehension and fear clearly written across their faces. She had to say something. Something inspiring and compelling. Where was Buffy when she needed her? She needed a leader, she couldn't do this by herself, she had no idea what to say and how and why the hell she was even trying.
Willow deflated, sighing and losing the charade of confidence she had adopted. "Listen, I know this is hard. I know that without Angel, without a leader, everything is all confusing and, and confusing. And I know that I'm not empowering speech woman, but we have to make do with what we have.
Angel needs our help now. He's always been the one to take the world on his shoulders and be the strong superhuman vampire. Now it is our turn to help him. And Spike. Spike...well, he saved the world. So we need to go and rescue them, we need to be strong and superhuman-ish and save the world." No one responded. She offered an awkward smile.
Fred jumped up from her spot, moving to Willow's side. "Yeah. You know, we can do this. And Spike and Angel do need us. Sure, there are probably dozens and dozens of vampires waiting to kill us…along with some nasty demons that like eating little girls…but that doesn't matter, because we are the good guys so we have to win."
"Um, yes, however empowering your speech was, Fred, we still need to get into the warehouse before we can fight the dozens and dozens of vampires you spoke of. You can't simply expect to be on the guest list."
Willow fielded Wes' question, formulating a plan as she explained. "I'll go in first, use a barrier spell to hold back any demons until we're ready. Wes and Gunn, you follow me and take out as many vamps as you can. Fred, I need you to get to Spike as soon as you can, he can help with the grr fighting. Lorne, I need you here, putting together the spell to ensoul Angel."
"And what if we're too late?"
She made sure to put on her resolve face. "We won't be. I'm going to communicate with everyone psychically. Give directions, try to keep everything in order. Any more questions?"
No one said anything and she quickly dismissed them, everyone dispersing and setting about their assigned tasks. Willow smiled in relief, thankful things had fallen into place easily.
The mission ahead wouldn't go as efficiently, she was sure of it. There were too many uncontrolled variables. Too many things that could go wrong. Everything felt so out of control. She didn't like it. She didn't like the other side having the power.
And if the portal opened…there was nothing anyone could do. Nobody knew how Aries planned on opening the portal so they had no way to know how to close it. Spike was obviously an important component, but why him? What did he have that made him special? She tried reading his mind, combing through whatever encounter he had with Aries, but he was too closed off.
Maybe she should call Buffy. The thought had crossed her mind multiple times. But Spike would not like that. And she was all the way in Europe. Unless, like Angel said, she was on her way here to save the world. That would definitely be of the good.
She felt a rush of relief at the thought of her friend by her side on this one, like always. Then another part of her, the more annoying part, said that she should be independent and responsible and handle it on her own.
Either way, they were marching straight into a maelstrom.