Bright Lights
By: Peanutbutter
Chapter 7 'Tell me truths, tell me lies'
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Trenton pushed his way through the woods barely catching a glance of Zarah as she plunged further into the forest. Nothing stopped her in her element. They had been traveling steadily since sunrise, making good time, but not good enough for Zarah. She would travel a good mile in front of him hopping back to check on him every thirty minutes or so. She'd just made her round.
Trenton stepped over a large tree root and pushed some hanging vines out of his line of sight. He hated the woods, stupid gigantic trees, and untouched tall grass, open meadows, different smells, strange sounds. At least in the remnants of the city of the city he it was like underground. He was surrounded by walls, sounds were masked, but in the woods he was definitely out of his element.
The foliage was growing thicker by the minute and Trenton pulled out his machete and started hacking at the thick vines and tree branches. He'd rather not use Isa for something so trivial, though she wouldn't have protested. He just for some reason, he thought it degraded her. Trenton pulled the sharp blade back and brought it down on the plants ripping them to shreds. In moments he was moving through at a steady pace, if not a slow one. The foliage still wasn't thinning. Sweat started to build on his forehead plastering his hair to his head. After fifteen minutes of hacking he came to a complete stand still. The vines, somehow, had woven themselves into a thick wall. It looked like a hand woven basket and he wasn't really looking forward to pushing his way through it.
Trenton put his hands on his hips and stopped. Isa could sense his discontent and began humming angrily the blade actually vibrating against his back. "I'm not going to cut through this." Trenton said mostly just to hear his own voice. "I'll just go around."
Tossing the machete from hand to hand, he turned around to walk past the blockage. The funny thing was that he couldn't really see an end to the wall. He only walked a couple of feet before turning around and walking back the other way. The other direction was the same a wall. Isa was still humming unhappily and Trenton was beginning to wonder whether it was from mere disappointment or that she sensed something he didn't. Isa's sic sense had saved his life more than once.
The woods had gone silent. He had complained about the noise earlier, he was regretting the complaint now. The silence was worse, way worse. He'd walked this way a thousand times, or so he thought, and never come across this wall, never heard the woods so silent. He replaced the machete at his hip and reached over his shoulder drawing Isa. Her blue glow was faint, discrete, but she was still humming unhappily sending vibrations up his arm and through his chest.
"What is it?" He whispered desperate to hear something besides his own voice. Where was Zarah? She was always around when something freaky was happening; at least she had been in the past. There was no way she could have missed the wall.
Trenton closed his eyes and let the sword fall to his side. He had training to deal with this. He'd spent years tuning his skills for just such an occasion. He shut everything out, his fear, his apprehension and focused on himself. Slowly he let his energy well inside his body pooling it in his chest. In moments he felt his body relax and he sent his energy outward, letting it roam over the surroundings rushing through the trees faster than he could run. He searched for whatever it was that was making him uncomfortable. His energy raced in every direction until he felt it. Crawling two hundred and thirty feet in front of him and ten feet on the other side of the wall, it shifted.
Trenton turned until he was facing the source of his energy line. Refocusing all of it directly at the disturbance he could almost make out its shape. It was one four legs. It was hunched over its back arching upward and sliding down suddenly as his spine plummeted downward to its haunches. Its legs were shaped like a rabbit, superior for jumping. Its feet extended outward with thick curved claws that dug into the ground as it walked. Trenton's energy rushed upward again and over the rounded head of the beast. Its neck was a straight line from the upward arch of the spine and a slight slope to its head. Its mouth opened as he watched it creeping along the wall, a triple set of sharp tearing teeth meeting him. It was pacing, smelling. Trenton watched it for a few moments as its nose rose upward sniffing. It turned his face looking directly at him and its mouth opened. Then it was gone.
Trenton shook his head breaking his concentration. He opened his eyes and raised his sword just as the beast he'd seen leaped over the wall and on him. Isa roared but she was knocked from Trenton's grasp and thrown across the forest floor. It'd moved so fast. Trenton grabbed hold of its head pushing its dangerous teeth away from his face and shoved it off him. He rolled to his feet and into ready position just as the beast jumped on him again.
Trenton brought his leg up catching it in the soft gray flesh of its stomach and propelling the demon backward. It took no time to recover and before Trenton could blink it was on its feet again, growling and snapping at him. Isa was too far for him to get to and every time he pushed the beast away it was on him again, trying to rip him to pieces. He reached for his machete pulling it free and slashing at the demon. It dodged every attack. No matter how Trenton moved or jumped the demon dodged him. He knew he couldn't keep the fight up. His arms were getting tired and his legs were starting to ache as he attempted to ward off its lightening attacks.
Trenton jumped to his left sweeping out with his sword. He missed, again, but this time he was too slow to dodge the retaliation. The demon's jaws sank into the flesh of his machete wielding arm. Trenton was able to contain his cry of pain but the machete dropped from his grasp and he could do nothing but beat helplessly on the demon's back hoping it would let go. The demon shook its head like a dog playing tug a war. Trenton was lifted off the ground. He could feel the flesh ripping, hear the bones breaking.
Trenton didn't know he'd blacked out until Zarah's war cry pulled him awake. He opened his eyes just as she was leaping over the wall, her body covered in various cuts and scrapes. That explained why she was late. She drew her cross bow aiming it at the beast still feasting on his arm. The first arrow hit it squarely in the back. Thankfully it let go of his arm leaving it a mess of bleeding flesh and broken bones.
The fight was over quickly for Zarah. She could match the monster's speed and obviously she knew their weak spots. She shot it in the right shoulder and smiled with satisfaction as it roared and died.
"He wore his heart on his sleeve," Trenton whispered and giggled uncontrollably. "His heart…shoulder." Trenton's eyes rolled back in his head and everything went black.
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Angel woke with his face stiff from crying and his back aching. In an attempt to alleviate it he rolled to his side. His hands immediately shot out to stop his fall when he rolled off the couch and hit the floor with a loud boom. He was sure the entire house shook with the fall, but then again the room was still spinning and he was no longer moving. Angel blinked a dull ache starting in his temple racing across his forehead and through his sinuses. With a groan Angel rolled onto his back willing the pounding to stop.
"So you finally woke up."
Angel opened his eyes to see Kate leaning over him looking entirely too chipper for someone who had been just as drunk, if not drunker than he was last night. He vaguely recalled her leaning over the table laughing hysterically. Where had he been at the time? Oh yeah on the floor, maybe he had been the drunk one.
"That stuff I gave you really knocked you for a loop, thought you were a real drinker," she smirked. "Want something to eat?"
Angel started to shake his head, but regretted it as an ache raced through his skull. Instead he whispered a short, "Shoot me."
"It wouldn't kill you." She mused still leaning over him, but thankfully blocking the torture of the light from stinging his eyes.
"Then stake me."
Kate moved and Angel shut his eye. "How much did I drink?"
"A lot, I stopped less than half way through the bottle. You on the other hand finished that and started in on the stuff I had here. You drank off of it. You own me thirty creds."
Angel rolled to his side still feeling crappy but more willing to move. Kate was standing over the stove cooking something. Angel sniffed the air, bacon. He didn't remember the last time he'd been that drunk, but judging by the way his memory was like Swiss cheese he didn't guess it would make much of a difference. If it had happened before he wouldn't remember it.
"Are you feeling better?"
Angel watched her remove the bacon from the stove. She stuck her fingers under the faucet washing them off then wiped them on the butt of her pants. He'd never watched her do anything like this. He'd never really watched her be a real person. The thought disturbed him. Was she supposed to be making breakfast for a family? He imagined a few children sitting around her small table kicking their feet back and forth as they waited for their breakfast, sipping their orange juice. One had dark hair like Kate, nearly black, the other had lighter hair. She laughed at them a smile making her lips curl upward, her eyes sparkling.
"Did you hear me, are you feeling better?"
Angel pulled his eyes away from the empty table and to Kate. She was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes, it wasn't like the smile he'd just imagined her with. Was he the reason she wasn't married, the reason she didn't have kids? He didn't doubt it for a second. Kate was beautiful, she could have anyone.
"Why didn't you ever get married?"
The smile, though fake, fell from her lips immediately and she dropped her plate of bacon on the table with a loud bang. The toast followed in a similar angry toss. She no longer flowed through the kitchen, her movements were jerky and uncomfortable, suddenly she seemed to be very aware of the fact he was watching her.
"I can see that you are, or you wouldn't have asked that." Kate plopped down in a chair her back facing Angel's prone body.
Angel got to his feet. He felt stupid lying on the floor watching her.
"I was just wondering."
Kate sighed heavily and dropped her bacon on top of her toast. "You think you're the reason I never got married?"
Angel was silent but he walked to the table pulling out a chair just across from her and sat down. His eyes were on her fingers as he picked at the corners of her toasted sandwich. Her nails were so well kept, her hands smooth.
"Not everything is about you."
Angel looked up not sure if he should feel hurt or not. "I didn't mean…"
"You did, and I'm pretty sure some part of you would feel happy to know that I never got married, never really dated because I was waiting for you."
"I didn't…"
Kate wasn't finished and wouldn't let him speak, "You may not have, but huh, you don't always know what you're doing. I'm not her all right. I'm not Buffy and god I know it." She dropped her sandwich on the plate and pushed away from the table. "I'm going to take a shower."
Angel wanted to grab her arm and pull her back. He wanted to tell her it wasn't about Buffy it had never been, but it would have been a lie. She was a substitute. Sure she looked nothing like Buffy, physically, but Kate was strong where other women were weak. She stood up to him even if her strength was no match. She was more like Buffy than he'd ever admit. He had originally been attracted to her for it, had called her to him because he was hurting because of it. That wasn't why had stayed with her, not why he kept coming back, there was something else, something he had only ever found with Kate.
Angel jumped to his feet and followed her path through the house. By the time he found the bathroom the shower was already running and he was pretty sure she wouldn't be happy with him barging in on her. He wouldn't mind it, he missed her physically, but the gesture would only make things worse. Kate didn't hate him, not yet, but she was awfully close. Angel backed away from the door. He had made things so bad between them. It was best if he left. He didn't think to leave a note but grabbed his discarded shoes and shuffled out the door and back toward the upstairs base. He still needed to figure out what it was Trenton had been hiding, and if he could apologize to Spike. He had a mission, a job, and none of this was part of it, or at least he liked to tell himself it wasn't.
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Buffy woke and immediately tried to jump to her feet, but her arms and legs were tied down. She twisted sideways trying to pull herself free but the chains dug into her flesh and the pain was enough to make her stop, at least for the moment. The room was empty, unlike the last two times she'd woken up. The girl was no where in sight, though a stack of book in the far corner showed that she had been there recently, also the stale scent of cigarette smoke was a dead give away to Spike.
She hadn't been too out of it to not notice his changed appearance, longer hair, different clothes, a sword strapped to his side. Those were details she didn't understand, but then again being tied to the bed was the problem she needed to remedy first, then she'd escape, or try to find Xander. Some where possibly trapped in this hell. Buffy twisted viciously to the right trying to snap the bed post but it held despite her pulls. A pull to the left showed the same sorry fate. The chains were strong and the bedpost surprisingly as sturdy.
As Buffy was trying the chains on her ankles the doorknob began to turn. Buffy still shutting her eyes and fraying sleeping, hoping it wasn't Spike. The vampire would be able to tell the difference and she desperately wished she'd listened to Giles' boring lecture on relaxation, concentration, and a bunch of stuff she'd thought was useless. She'd get her chance as soon as she got free. Thankfully it was the girl, carrying more books.
Buffy kept her lids semi closed and watched her drop the book, quietly, on the table and begin to thumb through them. She didn't look like a vampire and nothing told her to be wary of her, other than the fact that she seemed to be a little too friendly with Spike. That could mean anything, maybe she was a slave, some how he could be controlling her. The girl looked meek, her skin pale and her body shape thin. She was also short, hardly five foot and her hair was a blinding red. Freckles dotted her cheeks but over powering her face. She looked harmless enough. She'd take her chance.
"Hey!"
The girl jumped nearly falling out of her chair and turned toward Buffy her hand on her chest and her other at her hip. A dagger seemed to be attached to her side. Maybe not so meek after all.
"You're awake," she whispered then cleared her throat, "Spike said we had to tie you up, sorry about that."
"Are you working for him?" She asked.
"Working for Spike," the girl snorted, "I don't work for anyone. I'm just…"
Buffy cut her off before she could finish, "Listen let me go and help me find my friend and I'll get you out of here. I have friends in Sunnydale they'll fill me in on what's happened to L.A. and I'll fix it. If all that can happen in two days I'm pretty sure I can fix it in just as many." She paused, "well the rebuilding not in the bargain, just killing the demons, starting with Spike." Buffy pulled on her chains just let me go.
The girl seemed to pale, even more than before, "I…I…" she looked to the door and back to Buffy. "We're not the bad guys."
"What do you mean you're not the bad guys?" Buffy exclaimed fighting to keep her voice low. "You're working with a vampire, known as William the Bloody, and he's tied me to a bed, me the Slayer, and Xander is missing."
"You're a Slayer?"
Buffy grinned, "Yeah now let me up."
"I can't."
"Why," Buffy started.
"You see, luv, that would cause a lot of problems, for me mostly." Spike sauntered through the door grinning like made his hands shoved in the pockets of his olive green cargos.
"Spike, you bastard," Buffy pulled on her chains, "where's Xander, what have you done?"
Spike raised a brow, "what have I done, nothing, you on the other hand, that's a better question."
"Me, I haven't done anything, but as soon as I get free I'll be sure to remedy that." Buffy quipped and twisted her arm, trying again to pull free. All she was accomplishing was making bruises on her wrists and ankles, nothing was budging.
"She asked about Xander," Mika whispered.
Buffy frowned, the girl was going to be no help.
Spike turned to her, "Xander's dead, luv."
She flew into a rage her arms turning spastically as she tried to get up. "You bastard, you fucking bastard, I'll kill you." There were tears in her eyes as she tried to get free. Xander had saved her; somehow, he'd saved her carrying a sword and wielding it like she'd never thought he was capable. She wasn't going to have to chance to ask how and it was all Spike's fault. With a roar she ripped her right wrist free. She could feel the warm blood running down her arm and onto the sheets. Before she could do the others Spike was on her pinning her free arm to the bed and holding the other down, making it impossible to pull it free. He sat her on her stomach restricting her movement and her breath. She stopped after bit more struggle. As soon as she stopped struggling he lifted off her lungs allowing her to breathe.
"Dammit get some gauze!" He yelled sending Mika out the door at a run.
Spike released her still bound arm and grabbed hold of her bicep and let go with his bloodied hand. He reached toward the end of the bed pulling the sheet up and ripping down the side with his teeth and free hand.
"I didn't kill Xander you silly bint," he spat all the while wrapping the strip around her bloodied arm, "he was dead long before I even returned to the United States."
Buffy was silent as she watched him work, her chest still heaving with her exertion. She was still weak from her earlier wounds. His face was bent in concentration but the pale, pink scar bisecting his face diagonally mesmerized her. When had he gotten the scar, and his hair…? It was past his ears and the bleach had long since grown out of it. She knew it wasn't dyed, there were no roots showing. If there was something about Spike she could rely on it was his consistency of wardrobe, black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots, black leather duster, and maybe a red shirt. What was with the army look, cargo's and gray t-shirts. What was with the freaky sword at his side?
"What going on?" Buffy couldn't stop her voice from shaking, but she remembered Hamel's strange way of speaking, his confusion when she talked about planes. She knew the destruction she'd seen in L.A. couldn't have happened in a couple of days. She didn't know what was wrong but she had a feeling it was far worse than she'd originally thought.
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Spike looked back to her face when he heard the helpless tone of her voice. She hadn't sounded like that since, well he'd never heard her voice so weak and defeated, not even when she'd faced off against Angel, her lover, her everything. Just like Dru had been to him, like Molly had tried to be. He released her hand feeling she wasn't going to hurt him.
"What happened to L.A?" She whispered her lips shaking.
"That's what happens when a city is left to its own devices for nearly a hundred years, nature starts taking over again." Spike lifted himself off her body back to his feet standing just a few feet from her side.
"You're lying," she replied, but he could hear the uncertainty in her words, the fear.
"Am I?"
Buffy shook her head, "I saw Xander. I saw him, he saved me."
Spike snorted, "Genetics, luv, the whelps blood runs through Trenton's, the boy who saved you, veins, unfortunate for him he came out looking just like his great, great gran-dad."
"The girl," Buffy whispered already knowing why her red hair had screamed at him.
"From Willow and Oz I believe, not sure on that one. It might just be the one; I never really thought to ask." Spike shrugged.
"How do I know you're not lying?" Buffy asked her face hardening again.
The bint sure was thick, Spike mused, and refusing to believe that everybody she knew was dead. He guessed it was probably hard, but then again he didn't much care. "Right I made it all up, just to torture you, and for kicks I dropped a nuclear down on Los Angeles. 'Side how do I know you're not lying. You're supposed to be dead, luv, and unless you've spent the last hundred years frozen you should also be covered in a thick layer of wrinkles."
Buffy was silent digesting he guessed. It was a lot to take in, but he still doubted she believed it all. She was a slayer after all being cautious was part of her job.
"No, um, it's nothing, Spike came by l…last night checking and…um…"
It was Mika. Spike whirled around tearing his eyes from the Slayer and to the door. He knew that voice, the sound of those lumbering shoes, the shuffle. God, he wasn't ready for this yet. "Shit!" Spike cussed and jumped for the bed yanking the comforter up and over Buffy's face.
"What are you doing!" she yelled trying to push him off. Her free hand grabbed his hair through the blanket and yanked.
Spike yelped and tried to dislodge her. If she'd just be fucking quiet, he tried to elbow her in the stomach but she yanked harder pulling him against the bed. He thought she was going to pull his bloody hair out by the roots.
"Angel, really, you don't need too…" The words were cut off by the sound of the door being thrown open. Spike couldn't see what was going on. The Slayer had him out of view and a bloody grip liked hell on his head, he was sure he was going to be bald in a matter of seconds. The grip on his head suddenly loosened and he knew she'd seen him, knew he'd seen her. Fuck! Things had just gotten more complicated.
"Angel?" Buffy asked in disbelief. She paid no attention to Spike, who was still lying across her stomach. Spike sat up and looked forward. Angel was gazing at her a look on his face that Spike hadn't seen in years.
"God, Buffy?"
Spike put his hands on his head, "Fucking hell!"
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