The Price of Domestication

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless." Fred tapped the end of her pencil on the notepad absently. They really needed to get another slogan. It didn't sound right unless Cordy was saying it. Fred just couldn't pull it off.

"This is Clair Iverson. Miss Burkle?"

"Mr. Iverson!" Fred smiled, perking up at the unexpected turn and hoping for good news. "I thought you were going back to England."

"I am in England."

"Isn't it four in the morning there?"

"Evil never sleeps. Neither do we."

"What can I help you with? I haven't found anything else about the Hellmouth or Dawn. Is there something new?"

"Actually, I'm calling for Mr. Wyndam-Pryce."

"Wesley?"

"Yes. Could you put him on? If he's there, of course."

"Oh. Sure. Just a second." Fred set the phone down and hurried to Wesley's office. "Wes? Watcher's Council on line two."

Wesley gave her a blank, unreadable look. "Watcher's Council?"

"Mr. Iverson wants to talk to you." She waited, watching as he picked up his phone and pressed the button.

"Hello? Yes, this is Wesley. What can I do for you?" He frowned as he listened. Fred had to resist the urge to go back to her desk and pick up the phone. "I really don't understand...No, I don't think that I'm interested...well..." He fell silent again, brow furrowed. "A meeting would be acceptable. How do I contact her? No, that's fine...you're confident that she'll respond? Yes, that's the correct address." He leaned back in his chair, glancing up at Fred briefly. "Simply a trial basis...yes...that's fine. I'll be waiting...good bye." He hung up the phone and stared at it.

"Well?" Fred prompted, anxious to know what had been said.

"He asked me to be a Watcher again. A special case." Wesley was still staring at the phone. "Apparently he doesn't even know where the new Slayer is. He'll send her here once they manage to contact her."

"Willow says she's like a robot and Buffy calls her the Borg Slayer." Fred frowned, realizing that she hadn't said anything helpful. "That's all I know. She was already gone by the time I got to Sunnydale."

"Interesting."

"Do you want to be a Watcher again?"

"Not exactly," he answered diplomatically. "Although a second chance is always appreciated. A chance to do it right. If that's even possible."

"You'll be a great Watcher." Fred beamed as she returned to her desk, leaving him to think about the offer. Things were definitely looking up. Wesley was getting the second chance he wanted and Cordy was actually wearing make-up again. Maybe the trip to Sunnydale had broken through whatever shell their seer had built up around herself. The only regret was that Fred hadn't been able to get any hard data on the energy waves from the Hellmouth. Of course, she still had a lot of data to go through. Hopefully she would find something that could help Dawn. Concentrating, she pulled out the notepads she had brought back, every inch of every page covered with notes and equations. Somewhere amidst all the numbers was the answer. She just had to fit all the pieces into the right equation.

Spike had won back his soul four years ago. Iverson said the symptoms had started then. They had gotten worse when Cara had been called and when Spike had brought Faith back. Worse again when Spike had refused to kill Cara. About the same time that Dawn had begun to hear whispers. Every time Spike did something against his nature, the feedback between the supernatural hotspots was disrupted. As the frequencies changed, the demon populations went crazy. Portals in space and time opened up at random as the walls between dimensions thinned. It was a mathematical nightmare. As if the controls on the walls had been taken off, leaving them unchecked and undamped. Unbalanced.

Balance. Maybe the universe was trying to balance itself. If one vampire gaining a soul had been the last grain to tip the scales, it would have to respond. Did the supernatural obey a set of mystical Newton's Laws? For every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. Did good and evil have to be conserved as well as energy? If that was true then the proper controls would be restored once enough demons had flooded into the dimension. Would that be before or after the world was destroyed?

"What are you doing Fred?" Cordy smiled as she set down a cup of coffee. "Decaf with a cinnamon twist, just for you."

"Thanks, Cordy." Fred motioned to the papers. "I'm just trying to make sense of this. I think it's about balance."

"How so?" Cordy settled down with a stack of paperwork, knowing that Fred liked to have someone to bounce ideas off of.

"I think that maybe this is the universe's response to Spike. His being good. Iverson said that their seer referred to it as breaking a metaphysical truth. That's gotta be something big. Enough to maybe tip the scales in one direction or another." Fred flipped through, looking for a reference. "Every time Spike doesn't kill someone, when any other vampire would have, it seems to get worse."

"But why would he be so important?"

"I'm not sure he is. Not him as a person anyway. If a star became a black hole without having enough mass, it wouldn't really matter which star it was, just that it happened."

"I'm not going to even pretend I know what that means, Fred."

"Mass is the critical factor in determining if a star will become a black hole or not. Too little mass and you get a neutron star or a white dwarf. If this was violated, I don't even know what would happen because it can't happen. Does that make sense?"

"It's breaking an unbreakable law?"

"Exactly." Fred frowned. "Spike broke an unbreakable law. The universe is trying to compensate. It's rearranging to take him into account."

"I'm not sure. It may mean that once balance is restored, everything will go back to normal. But that could be after everyone is dead. I don't know what the price of Spike's soul is. I don't know if anyone does."

"Well. At least the visions are back. That has to mean something, right?" Cordy looked up from her mug. "The PTB wouldn't be sending them if the world was going to end."

"I hope you're right." Fred finally picked up her coffee, pulling away from her notebooks and frowning at them as though a new perspective would provide insight. "Because if that's not the case then there's nothing we can do. Even killing Spike wouldn't stop what's happening. I think it took this long to react because there's a metaphysical type of inertia that has to be overcome to shift the energy feedback of the hotspots. Either by changing the frequencies or the intensity of the waves, I'm still not sure how they work; changing the feedback would have destabilized the matrix. And I don't know how Dawn fits into this whole mess but I think Giles is right about the resonance theory. Once the hotspots reach resonance, the world will fly apart. Literally."

"You lost me back at inert or intern...whatever."

"Inertia. An object in motion stays in motion, an object at rest stays at rest, until acted upon by an outside force. It means that things tend to stay the way they are."

"Like Angel refusing to wear colors other than black and navy blue."

"Sort of." Fred smiled. "It takes a lot of force to effect the inertia of a large object. If it took four years for the inertia of the universe to correct itself because of Spike, it'll take just as long the other way. Assuming that killing Spike has any effect at all."

"So it might not help because we've already hit the self-destruct button four years ago and the countdown is almost done?"

"Well. Yeah."

Cordy winked at her. "That's a lot less confusing than all that inertia stuff."

"Glad to have you back, Cordy."

"Glad to be back."

"Bloody hell!" I stumble out of the portal and immediately expect to be reduced to ash. There's a goddamn sun right above my head. What the hell was Verek thinking? Nothing happens. Not even a tingle. Opening one eye, still waiting to start on fire, I look around. I'm in the middle of a field. Reminds me of the countryside north of London. There's a cottage in the distance. Thatched roof and surrounded by a flower garden that could have been straight out of the Cotswolds. Why aren't I on fire again? I squint in the bright light as I travel toward the cottage. The Oracle must live there, wherever there is. I'd like to stay out in the sun and enjoy it. I haven't felt the sun since the Gem of Amara and I'd forgotten the soft warmth of it. Who wouldn't want to stay just a little bit longer? But Dawn needs me. The whole world needs me. Bloody ridiculous. Weaving carefully through the flowers, I knock loudly on the door, listening for any hint of life behind the wood.

"Come in," a strong, female voice commands me.

Opening the door, I move cautiously into the warmly lit cottage, blinking at the cheery fire dancing in the hearth and the woman watching me across the room. She's tall with dark auburn hair pulled back into a loose bun. Striking without being beautiful, she's working on a scale model of a medieval castle. That explains the book.

"Hello." I move toward her cautiously, pulling the box from my pocket. "Brought you something. From Verek."

"Buttering me up?"

"Umm. Yeah. You could say that." Somehow I don't think I'll get away with anything less than the truth with her. Her brown eyes can probably see right through me.

She takes the box and opens it quickly, pulling out the tiny book. "The Divine Comedy. How fitting." She laughs as she puts the book back into its case and places it on the bookshelf behind her. "You have questions. Fire away."

Blinking with surprise, I tentatively take a seat on the small sofa. "Who are you?"

"Call me Alatheia. What I am is unimportant. You wouldn't understand anyway."

"Hey." I'm about to be offended when she glances up from her model and raises one eyebrow. "You're probably right."

"It's not meant to be an insult. Just the truth."

I frown, not sure how to proceed. Diplomacy was never something I strived to perfect. "About what's happening? In my world."

"Dimensional walls are collapsing. All the worlds occupying the same space will merge together." She gives me another measuring look. "There won't be much left when the dust settles."

"Is it my fault? Because of the soul?"

"Yes and no."

"How is it yes?"

"Yes, because you got the soul back. On purpose." She dabs some sort of putty on a miniature brick and tamps it into place. "Crazy vampire. You must really be into pain. I've been around a very long time and I've never seen anything like you."

"Thanks."

"Wasn't a compliment."

"Didn't think so." She has to be the weirdest Oracle in existence. "How is it no then?"

"The problem isn't that you have your soul back."

"Thought you just said it was."

"Semantics. The English language is completely unequipped to describe ninety percent of all natural phenomena, how could it possibly begin to tackle the supernatural?" She frowns at the castle and picks up another tiny brick. "A vampire having a soul isn't the problem. We could give every last one of them a soul without batting an eye. Most of the idiots would be useless and stake themselves within a few hours. Many of them would just drown out the soul. Having a soul doesn't give you a pass to being good and holy."

"Right. So the problem isn't that I have my soul, it's that I got it back?" Confusion doesn't begin to describe the circles my head is spinning.

"The problem is that your demon wanted it. Wanted to be good. Your demon wants to be a man." Alatheia levels her all-knowing gaze at me and puts down her tools. "And that is not only unprecedented, it's also wrong on half a billion levels. It's not supposed to want to be good. Ever. It's a demon."

"The problem is the demon?"

"Exactly. He's been tamed. Domesticated."

"Then it is my fault."

"In the old proverbial nutshell, yes." She watches me carefully.

"And Dawn? What will happen to Dawn?"

"The Key is a universal link between dimensions. If that energy is destroyed, the Key will be as well." She pauses thoughtfully. "I'm not sure about the human form it's in but it probably won't be pretty. I'd suggest not being too close to her. Better put plastic over the furniture."

"What?" Oracle or not, I don't like anyone talking about Dawn like she's just a thing. Just a Key. She's a bloody human being.

She shrugs and turns back to her model. "I can see what Chronos likes about you though. You're loyal. Bizarre. Twisted. With severe masochistic tendencies but in an endearing sort of way."

"Who?" I have more questions now than I did when I came here.

"Old friend of mine. He's been watching you for some time." She laughs at a private joke as she starts on the turret. "I like you. Much more than Angel. He's only just begun to pull back the curtain, see the world for what it really is. Just between us, I much prefer him without the soul. Infinitely more entertaining."

"I'm the one who's twisted? You don't happen to be related to Dru somehow?"

"Drusilla. There's a name I haven't heard in years. What is that crazy girl up to?"

"Not a bleedin' clue." The bint's got to be completely off her rocker. Worked on too many castles. Maybe she eats that paste as well. "What do I do? To fix this whole mess. To save Dawn."

"I think that would be quite obvious." She blinks at me. "Get rid of the demon."

"Any way to do that without involving pointy wooden things or an open flame?" When she doesn't respond, I sigh. Part of me knew this was coming. "Didn't think so." So that's it then. End of Spike. Come all this way to sacrifice myself for the world.

"It's a pity. Watching the Powers scurry like the insignificant bugs they are has been the most fun I've had in a few millennia. I'd love to see them try to pull your strings the way they've pulled Angel's. You would have seen through their lies in a heartbeat. Figuratively speaking of course."

"You don't give a rat's ass about the world, do you?"

"Is there a reason I should?"

"It seems to be bloody hilarious to you. Other people's misery. What will you laugh at when we're gone?" I'm getting a little testy. Forgetting the cardinal rule of never losing your temper with Oracles.

She actually seems disappointed by the prospect. "I suppose I'll have to find something else."

"You're fucking cracked."

"That's entirely possible." She's watching me with renewed intensity and I wonder if she's trying to think of new and exciting ways to eviscerate me. "You're not exactly walking the sane and narrow yourself."

"Least I don't get off on watching billions of innocent people die."

"Innocent? You think they're innocent just because they don't have fangs and drink blood. My dear vampire, you know better."

"I know they're not all saints but they don't deserve this. They don't deserve to die because of me."

"What do they deserve?"

"To live." I'm getting frustrated. "Sleep, eat, have babies, get a dog. Hell, they deserve to shoot each other and start wars, bloody wreck the whole planet if they want to. Long as they're the ones making the choices. They deserve a fucking choice."

"And you? What do you deserve?"

Her question deflates my anger and I shake my head sadly. "I just want to say good bye. To the Bit, to Faith. God, even to Buffy and the Scoobies. Other than that I don't bloody care what happens to me. I'm tired of this world and the weight on my shoulders. I don't want it anymore." She smiles and somehow I'm more terrified by that smile than any demon I've ever seen.

Faith heard the high-pitched whine of the missile a second before it shattered the front window and exploded in the shop, incinerating everything within twenty feet of the blast. Diving behind the counter, she screamed for Verek. He came crawling out of the rubble, a little singed around the edges, and motioned for her to follow him. Flames crackled behind her, heat and smoke pouring in acrid waves through the air.

"Fucking demons have to choose now to get with technology," she muttered as she slipped behind a heavy curtain. There was a desk in the center of the room. He pushed it aside, revealing a trapdoor beneath. Another explosion rocked the building.

"I believe they've found us," Verek said ruefully as his shop began to burn.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault at all, my dear." He followed Faith down into the darkness, handing her a flashlight.

Faith flicked on the light and looked around. "What is this?" It was damp, smelling of mold and decay. Water stains covered the brickwork and several inches of filthy water at the bottom, beginning to soak through her shoes and socks.

"Old tunnel system. Most of it was abandoned. The water table is high enough that preventing flooding was impossible. It's been a dry year." He motioned one direction. "That way."

"What about Spike? Will he be alright?"

"Alatheia will take care of him." Verek glanced back as they took a left turn. "She may be eccentric and brash but she's not heartless. Not entirely, anyway."

"I don't trust Oracles. Give me the wiggins." She grimaced a little at the Buffyism but decided it didn't matter anymore. "Where are we going?"

"Sanctuary."

"Where?"

"It's a bar."

"We're going to a bar?"

"Great martinis. You should try one while we're there."

"Whoa. Wait just a second. I'm not going to fucking sit on my ass. What if Spike comes back? We don't know who's firing those missiles or how many there are?" Faith almost stamped her foot with frustration. The healing wound in her thigh kept her from giving in to the childish urge.

"He'll never forgive me if I don't get you to safety."

"I can take care of myself. He's the one who needs help."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate the gesture but I really don't want to get on his bad side." Verek started down another tunnel. "Do you have any idea the damage he did when he was looking for you?"

"Killed a few demons." Faith bit her lower lip, sidestepping something that looked suspiciously like the half eaten remains of a rat.

"More like every demon he got his hands on. He took out half of Cable's elite guard and dusted enough vampires to fill the back of a pick up. They'll be telling stories to baby demons for decades. Don't go out at night, Junior, William the Bloody will get you." He sounded vexed. "He thinks that he got chipped, or he got his soul, and stopped being a bad-ass vampire. New Orleans tells a different tale. He's never been more dangerous."

"Why's that?" She wasn't actually following the demon's rant but he seemed to need to get it off his chest.

"Because he's found something to believe in, demon and soul. He's found a reason to live." Dark eyes caught her gaze as his head swiveled around. "You."

"Whatever." Faith brushed him off. "It's not like that between us."

"Then what is it like?"

"It's not love." She was surprised by the intensity in her voice.

"You're right. It's not."

"What?"

"It's more than that." The little demon was agitated. Probably because his shop was burning to the ground as they spoke. "What you have is perfect understanding. Perfect faith. In each other. That's something that not even the greatest love can begin to approach." He stopped at another intersection and looked into the shadows above them. "You'll never find it again. Either of you." He reached up, pushing aside a manhole cover with his fingertips. "And, quite frankly, the heat coming off of you two could fry an egg."

Faith blushed as she pulled herself up through the opening into an alley after him. "So we're on the same page and good in the sack. That what you're saying?"

"You trust each other. That's more rare than love." Verek shrugged and crossed to a heavy steel door, knocking loudly. A slot opened and inhumanly bright eyes stared out.

"Password?"

"Aperio." Verek nodded to Faith. "She's with me."

"Very well." The demon opened the door and smiled politely. At least Faith thought it was a smile, she could have been wrong.

"You knew he would come for you," Verek continued as he led the way through the darkened hallways. "When you were captured, you knew he was coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"And he knows that you'll find him. Kill whoever it takes, do whatever it takes to find him." A doorway opened into a twenties style bar complete with Louie Armstrong and waitresses in fringe. "There will be no doubt. He knows you'll find him."

"I'd like to get with the finding. Now would be good."

"He hasn't returned yet." Verek ushered her toward a booth. An older gentleman with a long, silver beard was already sitting there. "Chronos, this is Faith. Faith, Chronos."

"Hey." Faith slid into the booth across from the man and looked around nervously. With the firepower after them, she would've been more comfortable in a fortress. "You sure we're safe here?"

"No harm will come to you." Chronos smiled benevolently. "Martini?"

"What is it with you guys and the goddamn martinis? Fine. I'll take one." She glared at Verek.

"How are you, Verek? I heard your store was attacked, so sorry."

"I needed to remodel anyway." Verek signaled one of the waitresses. "Two martinis please." He waited until she was gone before turning back to Chronos. "I sent Spike to see Alatheia."

"I'd pay good money to see that confrontation," Chronos chuckled.

"I rather thought Alatheia would like Spike."

"Oh, she'll adore him. If they don't kill each other."

"Wait a sec," Faith interrupted. "No one said anything about killing. Why would she kill Spike?"

"He has a tendency to get under people's skin. So does she. Two peas in a pod, really."

Faith looked at the old man suspiciously. "Are you a demon too? Like Verek."

"I'm something a little different."

Conversation halted as the waitress returned with the drinks. Faith eyed hers for a moment; alcohol had never been her drug of choice. Violence and sex were much more exciting. Finally she gave in and took a sip. "Damn. This isn't half bad."

"It's the olives. They're imported." Chronos continued to smile serenely.

Ms. Bollington was a conscientious woman. A good woman raised by good parents in a nice, conservative home with a terrier and a rose garden. Her clothes were always neatly pressed and her handwriting was impeccable. She was a perfect model of what a woman should be. Reserved, respectful, neat as a pin, and effortlessly competent in a great number of subjects. When she heard the alarm bells at the Slayer Academy, she followed the given procedure to the letter. She placed a call to the Headquarters, to the London police, and another to the Head Watcher's home number. Only then did she leave her small apartment to check on the girls.

Doors had been ripped from their hinges and angry slices ran along the walls in irregular lines. Pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body, she hesitantly made her way to the dormitory style bedrooms. Bits of shattered wood lay about the floor and the overhead lights had been smashed.

"Maria? Sally?" There were no answers, just the eerie silence echoing back her own timid cry. Mindful of the dangerous slivers of wood beneath her feet, she picked her way to the first room and peered into the shadows. "Girls? Answer me. Is anyone there?" Fear clutched at her heart. Had someone kidnapped the girls? Why weren't they answering her? Fumbling for the light switch, she prayed that all the globes hadn't been broken. There it was. Light flickered into the darkness.

Amanda Bollington felt her stomach churn and managed to turn away before her dinner ended up on the floor of the bedroom. Unable to breathe, she could only stare in horror at the bloodied bodies lying in the beds. Maria. Danielle. They had been gutted like fish and tossed aside carelessly, heads lolling to the side and eyes staring blankly out of their skulls.

Wiping her mouth, she backed out of the room, terrified of what she was seeing. Of what she would find in the other rooms. Where they all dead? All of her girls. Dear God. She stumbled down the hallway, hand pressed against her lips as she checked the remaining rooms. It was the same. Death, blood. So much blood. How had this happened? Who would do such a thing? A quiet sound at the end of the hallway caught her attention and she froze. Was the murderer still there?

Creeping forward, she picked up a piece of broken door, holding it in front of her desperately. There it was again. A whisper. Almost the sound of someone or something breathing. Moving between the swaths of light from the bedrooms and forcing herself to keep her eyes away from the gruesome sights within, she tried to still her trembling hands and concentrate on the sound. She was almost back at her own doorway, its light beckoning to her and promising the safety of familiarity. Where were the police? Shouldn't they be here by now? Inching along the wall, she tried to peer around the corner into the lobby.

A monster was standing in the center of the room. She didn't know what it was but she could see the blood on its hands. Or claws. It stood on its hind legs, sniffing the air with a snout covered in snake-like scales. Rust colored bristles danced over the dark skin as it lowered onto all fours, muscles rolling over its shoulders and back. Claws clicked against the floor, flicking blood as they moved. The flexible spires along its spine bounced as it pivoted. Reptilian eyes focused on her, narrowing to slits as its nostrils flared open. Closing her eyes, she sunk to the floor and prayed that the end would be quick.

It was.