Bright Lights
By: Peanutbutter
Chapter 3
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Angel drew Sesa as a last resort sweeping her bright green aura across the night sky as he charged forward and back into the battle he was already covered in the guts and black blood of the pack of demons and the red of the vampires. He never liked to draw his sword unless he had to. He prized Sesa beyond anything he had ever owned. She had brought peace to him when he was hurting. She'd sealed the gaping hole in his heart making it possible for him to live again. Her flame grew brighter as he let a cry leave his throat and he sliced one of the demons in half. She began to hum as he pushed his way into the battle getting more and more lost in the dance that was combat. When he became so involved and intertwined with her that he could no longer distinguish between himself and her she would sing. He lived for her song.
"Angel we're done, Angel!"
Angel whirled around when he felt the hand on his shoulder Sesa singing in his ears as her green aura flared to life stretching upward and giving off a warm yet pleasant heat. He felt the anger welling inside him subside as he was faced with another sword this ones flame a light yellow. The flare from the green sword dimmed slightly and Angel let his game face slip away.
"It's over Peaches best rein in your uglies we need to get back to camp before the kiddies get a little crazy and over run the place. If I'm not mistaken you left the little wanker in charge. I don't much trust him to be objective, or even make coherent decisions. Not to mention you should watch your blind side." Spike lowered his own sword dubbed, Crydon, and sheathed the sharp blade with a smirk.
"How many did we loose," Angel asked ignoring the crack Spike had made about his injury and the urge to touch his patched eye. He was finally able to calm himself enough to lower his blade.
Spike looked over the field and gave a nonchalant shrug as he looked over the bloody battlefield. "Not too many, lost Michael and Karen," Spike shook his head, "Zarah's over there dancing around a few fallen bodies or something."
Angel sheathed his sword, "I think she's praying. I'm not sure though."
Spike shrugged again his ear length slightly curling locks shaking with his movement. "Doesn't matter really, I'm going to look around see if I can find anything."
Angel nodded, "We have a supply you know, you don't have to do this."
"I have to get my bite in some way or another. I feel domesticated when I have to drink from a bag whether it's human or not." Spike snorted.
Angel looked over his shoulder and nodded, "I'm going to send up a crew to take care of our bodies and maybe find a way to process this demon meat."
Spike nodded as he headed out over the field leaving Angel behind. Angel watched him walk away knowing immediately what he was going to do. Spike was going to drain his own men dry. He would saunter back into the refuge with lukewarm blood on his lips. Those who carried the bodies down for burial would never notice. He was always careful, biting where no one would find, or even drinking for already made cuts. Spike after all wasn't reined in by a soul or a conscience. He helped because it benefited him and he considered his reward to drink from the fallen. Perhaps a long time ago Angel would have stopped him, but not now. Angel watched bitterly with one eye as the blond vampire disappeared into the darkness to feed. Perhaps he would have cared when he'd had two eyes instead of one, and maybe he would have stopped Spike if he cared about anything at all.
Just as Angel was heading back for the camp the rest of the men flanking his right and left Zarah ran up from the field a starry eyed expression on her young face. Zarah was a slayer. They had been lucky to find her at all considering the Watcher's council had long since been gone, a good eighty years to be exact. They had been the first to go when the demons took over. The slayers had been lost after that, having no direction or even knowing what or who they were. Zarah had been a lucky find. Wondering though the woods wild and angry they'd found her hunting and cooking demons for food no more than fifteen a vicious hunter and killer. She wasn't tamed, though she appeared sweet most of the time. Zarah was primal. She didn't understand demon and man she only understood things that helped her and things that did not. Angel and his crew had helped her so she liked them.
She smiled a little as she came to Angel's side her hands full of something. She had her palms closed over the contents and was humming a tune strangely familiar to the song Sesa would sing for him. Her dark brown eyes sparkled as she fell into step beside him her skinny legs working hard to keep up with his bigger stride. Angel watched her out of the corner of his eye for a moment wondering what it was she had until he smelled a familiar stench in the air.
"What have you got," Angel asked as he stopped in front of the young slayer.
She frowned up at him her humming immediately stopped at his tone. Her cupped hands pulled into her chest and over the dark color of her skin he could see the rust like stain seeping through her closed palms. She shook her head her wild brown hair that hung in uneven clumps around her head hit her face violently as she protested and backed away.
"I just want to see what you have okay. I won't take it."
Angel had learned the hard way what it meant to take things from Zarah. He'd suffered quite a few injuries trying to teach the girl about possession. He had eventually taught her to ask though she still didn't understand no, but at least she asked now. Asking wasn't what he was worried about at the moment; it was what Zarah had taken that worried him. She had a religion she seemed to have concocted that involved rituals containing certain body parts of people they'd lost. Angel had come to guess it was her way of wishing them well, but others were not so forgiving of her thievery. He only hoped that this time it was something unnoticeable.
Zarah frowned up at him showing him her teeth for a brief moment before opening her closed palm. Nestled in a small pool of blood were four ears. He knew immediately that they belonged to Karen and Michael. Angel sighed and ran a hand over his face before turning back around. He knew she wasn't doing it to be mean or rude. She was only trying to make amends, but everyone was going to notice two missing ears.
Zarah didn't seem to notice his anguish and skipped past him as she headed back for her home the ears still in her hands dripping the occasional drop of blood on the ground as she ran. She began to hum again as she disappeared over the hill and into their grounds. In moments Angel was behind her and in the base. It was always hard coming back, while Spike and himself had an abundant supply of food thanks to the donations of the members of the camp, the refugees were not as fortunate. Food was hard to come by and Angel did the best he could, but it was hard to feed three hundred hungry mouths. Lucky enough they weren't picky when it came to eating. A few of them had grown up on demon meat and enjoyed it. It was the older few with haunted gray eyes that looked at him resentfully. They remembered what it was like before even if they had only been children themselves. Humans had not always been banned to the underground and hiding. They knew that we had once lived on the streets and had grocery stores. They were the harder ones to please.
Angel walked past the hopeful faces of his people ignoring them as he made his way toward his room. He was tired and a little hungry. He just hoped no one would bother him tonight about what Zarah had done. He'd explained it to them before and he didn't feel like doing it again. There was nothing he could do to stop her. Zarah was Zarah and not only that she was nearly as strong as he was. He wasn't going to fight her and they needed her strength.
Sesa was barely humming when he finally reached his room and settled onto the bed his body weary and tired. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years, but he knew that even if he did he would still be the same, still be alive, and still be living in this hell. Yes, he had been to hell, for what seemed like thousands of years, if not more, but this was hell too. He had been brought back to try and make a difference or so he'd thought but here he was feeding demon scraps to scavengers and feeding off those same people when he felt the need. He was partnered with William the Bloody, a not quite so reformed vampire with no soul. Sighing Angel reached the bedside table and pulled a half empty bottle of whiskey toward him and uncapped the lid.
He took a deep drink and unsheathed Sesa and closed his eyes as he placed her on the bed beside him and drank his liquor. There was another time when she sang for him, when he was alone, and when he was tired Sesa would sing him to sleep lulling his spirit in ways he didn't think were possible anymore. Lying by the mystical blade he allowed himself to think of her and what it had been like to find peace in her arms. His love, his life, Buffy.
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Spike wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand and nonchalantly licked the skin where the blood residue had been left. It was a good meal, though not very hot or even invigorating. It was better than bagged blood. He'd rather vamp out over a prone dead body than in front of a plastic bag. It was easier to pretend the people were scared stiff from fear and not death by blood loss or what not. He was a demon after all. He lived for the violence and the blood, but he also lived for the bite.
Spike tucked his hair behind his ears as he walked confidently toward home. He hopped onto a few boulders actually feeling a bit giddy at the blood running though his veins. He'd scanned the fields after draining Karen and Michael dry looking for scavengers but had come up empty handed. Big battles, like he had just been in, left little time for hand to hand combat. He always employed a little when fighting he liked to do most of the work with Crydon. Mostly it was because the sword seemed to love the violence and the kill as much as he did. The sword would send almost painful vibrations up his leg when he didn't use him. Spike had always joked that it was their love of the kill that bonded them together, but he wasn't quite sure if that was all or the only reason.
Crydon had been the last weapon of its kind to be found so far and he was surprised that he had found it. He'd been fiercely jealous of Trenton's and even Mika's dagger and his angry and hatred grew each and every time a new blade and a new master was found and he was yet to have one. It didn't seem right that he was a major part of the resistance yet he lacked the proof of it, in his eyes any way. It had only been when Tradora had been found that everything had changed. He wasn't bonded to her like he was to Crydon, but there was something humming inside the blade that he related to.
Tradora set in a chamber not too far from Angel's room awaiting her master. Some nights, before Crydon, Spike would sneak into the cavern and look at the glowing red blade mesmerized by the dancing flame that consumed it. On some nights he would touch it hoping that it would accept him and though he would feel the power pulsing though it begging to be unleashed it wouldn't glow for him. He'd changed a little by sitting with that sword, and when he was no longer jealous of his friends Crydon had appeared.
Spike thought of the yellow blade and he smiled. Crydon was the right choice for him and he had never once looked back to Tradora. In fact it was around that time he'd started taking on routine responsibilities and actually living in the base. Before that he had kind of been a wanderer not really joining their side, but not fighting on the other either. He had been reluctant to join, but he knew even when he had felt the first stirrings of the big badness in Sunnydale that he didn't want to be part of it. He had just never thought he'd be stopping it.
Spike dropped to his knees over the base entrance and punched in a code as he watched the door slide open seemingly out of nowhere before he jumped in. It was also around then that he'd lost a few other things that were important to him. One of them was Molly the other was his thumb and index finger off his right hand. It was also when he'd gained the scar. Unconsciously Spike reached toward his forehead and followed the pale scar from the top corner of his of his forehead across his eye and over his nose and down his right cheek. Spike shook his head breaking contact with his skin and noticed for the first time the soothing tone of Crydon's constant hum.
It was rare if ever the sword tried to comfort him. Most of the time he didn't allow it and would mentally shush the blade until it stopped all together, this time he let the quiet hum play his mind slowly easing, but the pain was still present making his chest feel tight. Spike listened as he walked past Angel's room listening to the silence. He could hear an occasional slosh and knew Angel was getting drunk. After all the years Spike had spent around Angel he had only managed to give the old vamp one of his habits and that happened to be getting right sloshed every once in a while. He had to admit he was a little proud to see the old man drunk off his ass.
Right past Angel's room was Tradora's. It was true he had never wanted Tradora again after finding Crydon but he had always gone to visit her, like an old friend and oddly enough Crydon thrived on Tradora. While the blades always glowed brighter next to ones like themselves as if they knew each other and were saying hello it was nothing like the fire Tradora and Crydon created. He felt the soothing hum of Crydon jump a bit and quicken as he stopped in front of the blades door. Crydon wanted to see Tradora and unlike the other blades that could only be heard by their masters Spike heard Tradora's song.
Drawing the thick blade Spike let the light yellow glow fill the hall and watched as it glowed brighter just outside Tradora's door. It only glowed that bright during battle. Spike gripped the knob carefully and twisted it letting himself into the swords chamber. Immediately his ears were met with a song. The swords were singing to each other. It was rare that the swords sang. In fact Crydon had only sung for him one time. Spike swallowed hard at the memory and focused his attention on Tradora. She was glowing brightly her shine reaching the surrounding wall and mixing with Crydon's yellow light to create a faint orange glow that charged the air around him.
Carefully Spike set his friend on the pedestal beside Tradora and watched the two swords interact. He watched the dance between the two and the way the song shifted from happiness to slow content tones. His eyes drifted shut for a moment and he let the music and light carry him away.
Spike didn't know how long it had been when he finally managed to open his eyes but Crydon and Tradora were still singing but not nearly as loudly as before. The light was a flickering, stead flame, not a burning inferno any longer. Spike knew it was time to go. It was almost heart breaking the loss he immediately felt when he took Crydon from Tradora's side, but he could tell though sad Crydon was happy to be back with him. Spike himself would never admit it but it was comforting to have Crydon back with him. He hadn't been away from the blade since the moment he found it except to show it to Tradora. Feeling a little better than he had before Spike continued to his small room near Zarah's and sunk onto his cot.
He could hear the faint beat of Zarah's drum as she finished off one of her many rituals. He peeled off his threadbare shirt and tossed it in the corner followed by his trousers and belt. Crydon, he leaned against the cot and as he lay down and flipped off his light he reached out and squeezed the swords hilt. In the darkness the blade began to hum, lulling Spike to sleep.
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"I can't believe how fast these bruises are healing," Mika commented as she checked a few bandages and reapplied some healing ointment to the blond headed girl. "The bruise on her arm is nearly gone, and her head already looks better. The minor cuts and scrapes on her body have already healed over!"
Trenton shook his head, "I told you she was special," he whispered trying to keep the excitement out of his tone, but it was nearly impossible. "So how long until you think she'll wake up?"
Mika sighed and checked the girl's head again. It was still purple though the color was beginning to fade to a green. "I'm not sure." She frowned as she rolled the girl to the side. Not only was there a bruise on her temple but there was also quite a nasty on the back of her neck and the round of her head. She was lucky she hadn't broken her spine.
"Well is there anything else you can do, a spell maybe," Trenton paced the room his hand running though his hair unconsciously as he walked.
He'd been doing that all night and hadn't even gone to see if Angel and Spike needed any help with clean up. It wasn't like him, and he was lucky the two of them were two preoccupied to notice his odd behavior. Trenton hated lone patrol and even worse hated being left out. Usually Angel would demand a report right after a battle he wasn't involved in but it seemed as if it had been particularly bad this time. The two of them hadn't bothered. Battles where their two vampire leaders were too tired to doing anything afterward were not good signs. It would mean the end of their time in L.A. was drawing near and she wasn't ready to let go just yet.
"Listen Trent," Mika said cutting him off with a wave of her hand, "I'm not going to do a spell on her. Medical healing is hard and I hardly have the skill to perform it correctly. Just be patient. If the rest of her heals as fast she should be awake in a day or two." Mika hoped she was right, but she really wasn't so sure about it, or even if she wanted the blond girl to wake again. The girl seemed like trouble to her, but then again it might just be the way Trenton was doting over her. Mika had never been the jealous type but for some reason she felt threatened by that girl.
Another chapter, thanks for the feedback. Please give me more!