Chapter 11: A Very Hairy Christmas
The next morning I woke up to a hissing heater, something that had been coming quite a custom in my life but I never got used to it. Which was why I picked up a pillow and viciously hurled it at the metal noise box. The lump made up of sheets and a thick green comforter across the room jerked.
"Don't do that." Ericka the bed lump said. "You cover it too much and the whole building will go down in flames."
"At least it will shut the hell up," I grumbled underneath my fair stack of covers.
"Unlike some people . . . " The bed lump replied. I scowled, then suddenly sat up.
"Damn it!" I hissed as I threw off the covers. "We're going to be late."
"Do you even look at a calendar anymore?" Ericka said in a highly annoyed voice.
"Should I?" I asked and yanked on my jeans. This was probably some ruse to get me to be late again for Tremaine's.
"Yeah, dumbass, it's Christmas Eve."
I nearly fell over in the middle of pulling on one snow boot. "What?"
"It's Christmas Eve morning. So how 'bout for a spectacular Christmas gift you go back to sleep and take this day off in peace like the rest of us?"
The lump twisted again under the covers and I knew that was the end of our conversation. I snatched up her bedside clock, just to make sure. The clock read 8:03 A.M and beneath it in tiny letters read DEC 24. I continued to glare at the clock as if it would suddenly change and shout out "JUST KIDDING!" But it didn't and slowly I went back to my bed, kicked off my shoes and jeans and snuggled back under the sheets.
Wow, a whole day to do anything I wanted. Sleeping first, definitely. Then after that? Hmm, well I could just decide that when I felt like it.
By Ericka's clock and her empty bed, I woke up around two with a stretch and then some much needed lolly-gagging in bed followed. Now the radiator's hiss was calming, almost necessary for the Christmas atmosphere. A full-faced smile broke out and I stretched again, the warmth of the bed and the reality of the day finally setting in. My stomach gave a hungry grumble and I knew it was time to start searching for some cookies.
One long hot shower later, I walked along the lower halls of the institute. Christmas wreaths were strung along the walls and real wooden dradles hung from the handrails to the staircases. Large menorah candles sat on various tables and their light made for a small fireplace. Christmas, Hanukah and Kwanzaa, combined? That didn't seem to matter much to anyone though. Girls hustled and bustled back and forth to each other. Large leather couches and chairs had appeared over night and girls piled onto them, some still in pajamas and others half-dressed. They all wore the same expression though: happy and perfectly content. Nearly everyone had a large cup of a steamy liquid and they laughed and talked and exchanged small packages. Their toes curled inside their large fluffy slippers and around soft shaggy rugs. There was no music playing but the air seemed to be filled with a noise that was so pleasant and sweet it very might well have been the greatest composition in history.
Sticking out like a great sore thumb in my jeans and thickly soled boots, I walked into the kitchen area where the laughter and "music" continued. Girls laid about in sweatpants and brightly colored camisoles, but those girls wore a heavy coat or sweatshirt over it. No one seemed to mind that outside it was freezing or demon spawn was hot on their heels. For a day— and a day was all they had— the outside world didn't matter. It was Christmas Eve and from the way they carried on, it would be Christmas Eve for the rest of eternity.
My sense of smell happily didn't disappoint as I found a mass of girls hanging around a long table. Pancakes and waffles ladled large white plates. Fried eggs and toast were carried on others. Strawberries and sweet pineapple sat in slices on other large trays while small boxes of cereal and ice-cold milk took up the end of the table. But what I came for sat directly next to a large vat of a dark brown liquid, which I could only take as hot chocolate.
I actually started to shake with the anxious jitters as I loaded up a plate full of chocolate chip and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, then dipped a large plastic ladle into the vat and poured out its contents into a white mug. Then I turned, smiling for no particular reason at all.
Nobody looked up or turned to return my smile. They were all chattering and grinning, at someone else though. A horrifying high school memory flickered in my mind and suddenly I knew this was a very bad idea. With my features slowly falling in on themselves, I headed towards the door. Maybe the wall was still free—
"Hey, Reid," A voice called behind me. I was so surprised to hear my name I almost didn't turn around.
Jess was walking towards me, Ericka and Yuri scowling behind her a few feet away. They stared in disbelief as Jess raised a hand and waved at me.
"Hi, Jess," I said slowly. "You know Ericka?"
I nodded to the girls behind her and she shrugged. "Captain Oversensitive and her sidekick WonderNinja? Oh, I know them. And they seem real interested to know me."
"But you don't want to know them? Like, know them, know them?"
Jess raised an eyebrow at me. "Did you miss the whole me calling them ridiculous and racist nicknames?"
"No," I said quickly. "Its just . . . I'm usually, well, always in a pretty bad mood so you should probably—,"
"Leave you alone on Christmas?" Jess said with a small smile. "You could be Voldemort and I still think everyone deserves a good Christmas."
Oh, God, she's one of those types of people, my mind said. It was trying to make my lip wrinkle up into a very unpleasant face, but for some reason, my lip wouldn't move.
"I think Voldemort was prettier," I finally said.
"Oh yeah, the whole not-having-a-nose thing was very attractive," Jess giggled. Someone behind us scoffed and we both glanced over to watch Ericka stalk off with Yuri following at her heels. Before anyone could stop me, I flipped them both the bird.
Jess's face fell into an embarrassed surprise. She grabbed my wrist down and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. When they didn't, she pushed me on my shoulder.
"Maybe that's why she doesn't like you, you dumbass."
"You're the one who called her Captain Oversensitive." I remarked and she rolled her eyes.
"We can point the blame in a thousand ways from Sunday but these cookies won't eat themselves." Jess snatched up a chocolate cookie and nodded towards the door. What exactly compelled me to follow her, I don't know and probably never will.
"And so she said, 'you better fix this before I go over it with my red marker!' And then I said, 'this is what I think of you and your stupid red marker'. I grabbed the red marker and snapped it in two!"
"Oh you rebel," I chuckled and dipped a cookie into the warm milk.
"Yeah evil just sweeps off of me in waves." Jess giggled madly.
We sat out on the front steps of the institute, the snow completely wiped off from the concrete on the first step. Footprints covered the grounds below us, running like an infinite maze in the snow. Several imprints of snow angels littered the ground and near the far stonewall, a snowman Slayer was staking a snowman vampire. However, one could take the stake as an extension of her arm, as it was just another stick. Far off behind us, girls laughed and argued and the basis of a snowball fight broke out. No one noticed us as we talked. Well, Ericka talked and I ate cookies.
Apparently she was homeschooled right from the beginning. Her father was an accountant, while her mother was a bright woman who always wanted to teach, but couldn't stand the thought of being away from her little girl. But then college came around and Jess won several scholarships, but her mother refused to let her go. With some gentle coaxing from her father, Jess was eventually allowed to pack up and head south, for college. However, about two months into her sophomore college at UT at Austin, Willow showed up and told her about the magical underworld, especially the part where she was the heroine meant to keep the human world and the demon-infested-world apart from each other. Her mother had also been a secret Wiccan and knew that her daughter had a sacred duty from the moment she was born. That pissed off Jess quite a bit but eventually came to understand that her mother's intentions were out of protection, not anything sinister.
"Was it hard to change from your house to a huge college?" I asked and bit into a large chocolate piece.
"Eh, kind of weird, but it felt right, you know?" Jess looked at me intently. "It felt good to suddenly be a part of something huge and alive and pulsing. Like one with this massive entity, you know?"
From my quick glance, I really didn't. Jess shrugged and laughed. "Maybe that's my pathetic loneliness talking, which I've come to notice, has a really big mouth."
"I think there's a foghorn attached to my internal clock," I said offhandedly. "When it says to wake up, I better wake up or I'll find I've gone deaf."
Jess nodded seriously. "And where would your internal clock be? Like physically located? In your brain?"
"Mine's somewhere in my stomach," I said straight-faced. "Cuz whenever I wake up, I'm always hungry."
Jess let out a wistful sigh. "Just wait until you slay something. Then there will be this bizarre-o mixture of craving for some yogurt and a really weirdly placed sense of being really horny."
"Slaying makes you hot?" I asked in disbelief.
The girl across from me raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, I think it's a curse all Slayers share. Ask anyone and you'll get the same thing. Driving something hard and pointy into a demon makes you very depressed that there are no male Slayers."
I continued to stare, one eyebrow raised. A gentle blush crept up her neck.
"You just wait. Some demon will come around and it'll make you all hot and you'll be the one blushing like a maniac."
I nodded and began to dig around in my jacket for something. "Right. Next you'll be telling me that wielding a broad sword makes me anal and grouchy." I pulled out a bent cigarette and a match. Smoke from the flame dove into my nostrils as I brought the lit match to the white end and it immediately began to burn. I caught Jess staring at me as I heaved in a puff of smoke.
She wore a face that said she disapproved but then her eyes dropped back to the cookies as she helped herself to another one and the look was gone. That was the first time no one had ever mentioned anything about my smoking. I stared at her in shock. She was trying her very best to not get on my bad side. But that wasn't because she was afraid of me; she just wanted a friend.
Something cold rushed into my throat but I drowned it out with a harsh gasp of smoke into my lungs.
"Oh damn," Jess swore and stood, her eyes clenched onto her watch. "It's late. I told someone I'd meet them later. So catch you later?"
The cigarette suddenly felt too hot between my fingers. "Yeah, totally. See you around."
She smiled and grasped the handle to the institute. "Thanks for the cookies," she said before she passed through the door and was gone.
The sun had set over the stone wall and now twilight clung to the air, bringing it with it a frosty wind and the promise of a new blanket of snow by morning. The cold something leapt into my throat again and I chunked the still burning cigarette into the snow, listened to it sizzle out before going back inside.
As I neared the dorm room, I heard laughter from inside it. A full-blown scowl climbed over my lips. If she thought that tonight was going to be an all night girls' party, she was sadly mistaken. Mentally preparing myself for a true catfight, I yanked open the door and my mouth dropped.
Yuri sat behind Ericka with a curling iron running through her blonde hair. Ericka herself was putting on some mascara in her wide mirror. Jess sat in the far corner, a Blush magazine propped open on her lap. Ericka and Yuri both cut off in mid laugh as I came into the room. They turned ugly glares my way but I returned with my own. Ericka wrinkled her nose at me before glossing up her lips with a red gel.
"Why are you back to early?" She asked trying to sound nonchalant. "I thought for sure you'd be out looking for some spiked punch."
"No actually I came back to look for my leather whip." I said, my eyes drifting towards Yuri who had returned to carefully doing Ericka's hair. "Have you seen it?"
Yuri's skin visibly prickled but Ericka only rolled her eyes. "No, we haven't. Jess, do you want me to do your makeup?"
Jess gave me a quick apologetic glance before shaking her head. "I think I know my way around a mascara stick. Thanks though . . ."
"Make up? Hair? Is there a new strip club opening downtown that I don't know about?" I asked and leaned against the doorway.
"No," Ericka said and rolled her eyes again. "Once every few months Buffy lets us go out and have some fun around the town. You know, go clubbing or shopping, whatever suits your fancy, but the local club is having this Christmas blow-out. Drinks are free and the music is live! I also heard there's going to be some fireworks shot off at midnight, but that could just be hype."
She smacked her lips successfully in the mirror just as Yuri added one final curl to her hair. The Asian girl's own hair was pulled into an elegant bun on top her head, steadied by two black ivory chopsticks. They both wore outfits that looked barely street legal. Jess, however, wore a thick wool sweater, tight jeans and black boots. And by her slightly unhappy face, it was obvious the girls forced both the jeans and boots onto her unwillingly. She looked at me apologetically again as the girls stood and pulled on their overcoats.
"Come on, Jess, we need to get there before all the good seats are taken."
But Jess just sat there and finally she took a deep breath.
"Um, no guys," she said. "I think I'll catch up with you later."
Ericka looked surprised then mildly annoyed as Yuri gave her the "you really want to stay here with that one?" look. Jess sat up straighter in the bed and crossed her arms.
"Ok," Ericka shrugged. "Your Christmas, you spend it how you want."
Her steel eyes ran over me as she flounced out the door and Yuri closed it shut behind them.
I couldn't look at Jess as I slipped off my jacket and fell into bed. There was a long silence before anything was said.
"Thanks," I said gruffly, still staring straight ahead. For what? A small voice in my head asked.
"My idea of a good time is not to get wasted and sleep with as many guys as possible," Jess said and stood up. "And from that mini-skirt, I think that was their eventual game plan, you know, after the slutty dancing and shots of flaming vodka."
"Oh, don't knock all of that," I said. "The flaming vodka sounds really good right now."
Jess stared at the ground for a minute, her eyes dark as she thought.
"Um, would you want to go hit the clubs?" She asked quickly, as if she said it fast enough, I'd say yes to anything. "It's totally cool if you don't. I just thought . . . good release, you know, get out of this place . . . or something . . ."
Every ounce of being inside of me was screaming NO. She was trying to make nice, make a friend but frankly, I just didn't want to have to pretend like I cared, or didn't care. Not that I was really giving an effort, with anyone. All in all, it was a bitch to be a bitch. Jess seemed to mock the slutty dancing, but the noises and sounds and lights and atmosphere of nothing but pure black, that seemed kind of nice.
I rolled over, grinning. Jess looked up, her dark eyes low with uncertainty.
"You know what?" I said. "Yeah. Let's go. It's fucking Christmas Eve and damn it to hell if my night is going to be ruined because I want to be a bitch!"
Jess's face smoothed through confusion before she smiled back at me. "Not entirely sure I got all of that, but great!"
Feeling slightly rambunctious, I grabbed my parka off the floor and saw Jess frowning at me.
"You're really going to go like that?" She asked, her voice on the very cusp of whining.
I told her just to change into something more comfortable, but Jess admitted someone was going to have to cut her out of the pants, so it would be easier if I just changed. I said no, and she said yes, and about an hour later, we were walking down to the front gate of the institute, black leather clinging to my thighs and calves and a heavy glower plastered to my face.
"It's not that bad," Jess said happily as she wrapped her arms tighter around her waist to block out the wind. "Your ass looks unbelievable in them."
"I don't need pants to tell me what I already know," I growled and shoved my hood up around my face, just in case anyone tried to recognize me.
The foliage to the right and left of the institute's gravel pathway was aglow, lights strung up in trees and wrapped around bushes like golden snakes. Shapes that moved in giggling packs spilled across the front steps and carefully picked their way through the foliage to exit through the massive black gate in the middle of the stone wall.
A few were already snowball fighting; I assumed they were the younger ones, for the older Slayers quickly put an end to the war when a freelance projectile landed into one of their perfectly manicured hair-dos. Jess and I didn't even bother to close the door behind us: the second my hand left the handle, someone from the other side pulled it open, chattering vigorously to a neighbor, not even realizing we were there. Jess shrugged and bounded down the steps.
Snow crunched beneath our feet and as we approached the large metal gate, I felt a sense of near and inexcusable freedom break out over my skin, rippling it with chills. I wanted to pause as we passed through the gate, to run my hand along the metal and see if there were little detonators that created a force field. I wanted to see if it had been this easy to run away all along.
However, the wave of Slayers pouring through the gates kept us moving. Immediately a beautiful verse of We Three Kings stroked my ears as the aroma of roasted almonds tickled my nose. With a sudden cringe, I was five years old again sitting next to a roaring fire, writing out my "Thank you" note to Santa Claus while sitting in my mom's lap. Snow twirled outside in heavy sheets and the hour was nearing ten, which shortly afterwards, my mother put me to bed, adamantly saying Santa wouldn't come unless I was deep asleep.
"Reid." Someone was shaking my shoulder. "Come on, I think we'd better hurry and get to Puzzles before its totally jammed."
Swallowing a large knot in my throat, I nodded and followed Jess down the street.
On our way over, I noticed that this town wasn't very big. Sort of a rustic old thing with history thick and deep, including statues of people who saved the town from an Indian capture back in the eighteen hundreds, or even the man that founded the town with his copper shovel. I had never been one for geography but New Hampshire refused to leave my head as we tottered around the streets, carolers walking merrily up and down the sidewalks, pausing and belting out their songs for anyone who would listen. A large white gazebo stood in the middle of town and it was infested with snow, yet no one seemed to mind as girls, boys, men and woman talked and ate roasted chestnuts and drank cider.
A small blonde boy hurled down the streets, threatening the girl he was chasing (who must have been his sister) with an icy cold drop of snow down her shirt. I stared slightly as they raced around the gazebo. A boy. Huh. One day he'd be a man and he'd smooze women with his manly essence. Either to use them for sex or just somebody who'd listen to his complaining about the bad job at the lumber-mill, this little boy would never know that a whole house full of super powered women lived just down the street, where stamina wasn't an even issue. Isn't that sort of every male's dream?
A mass of dark shadows waited on the outskirts of town, about a fifteen-minute walk through the back streets. The streets led off to what could have been taken as a junk yard in day light, for the building we approached was made of several large rectangular metal boxes, usually used for storage. A large metal door was carved in the center of the lowest one and people came in waves through the door.
Jess found an opening through the wave and we dove through, the pushing and shoving dumping us into a wide room. In fact, it was huge. The ceiling was at least twenty feet above and littered with small lights, covering the black in small golden bulbs. A metal balcony ran around the upper levels of the club, a few sofas and curved black chairs sat in the corners of the balcony, hidden and disguised. Strobe lights flickered and flashed, humans flowing in out of the black like ghosts. A bar was hidden up under the balcony and with every flash of light I noticed more people scuttling from a chair to a sofa then to be hung up like wallflowers. An empty musician stage was thrown up in the black, hidden and secluded like a bad child. Speakers thumped out hypnotic beats and the shadows on the dance floor hummed in response.
But what was most fascinating was the strategic placement of the dance floor. It took up most of the dark room and presented its contents like trophies. Human bodies swayed and gyrated. Beautiful women threw back their heads, sweat rushing down their throats and chests, their hips twisting and shaking in short skirts and tight pants. The men behind them stroked the women with massive hands and brought the girls closer. Energy was pouring into the room, pulsated like a heartbeat and immediately wrapped around those still free of the dance floor, captured them and absorbed them with a call as primitive at the need for flame.
"Come on, Reid," Jess was pulling at my coat. "I think I see some empty seats."
We wove through those standing around, sipping drinks or chattering to friends and slid into a small cut out room. The door way was small enough to only fit a single person through at a time but the room broke out to the size of a small bedroom. It was dark, green silk curtains draped across the walls. The curtains glowed slightly, as if lights were put underneath them. Purple and gray couches were boxed up into the corners with satin footstools placed out of under foot. Only a single couple sat inside, their faces pressed against each other and tongues being used like shovels, but as soon as we came in, they scowled and left.
"So, um, good beats." Jess said after a while. I nodded and pulled off my coat.
Jess glanced out the small crawl space, the music calling to her.
"You owe me a drink."
"What?"
"You go out there and dance, you owe me a drink." I said, my arms crossed.
Jess grinned. "Fair enough deal, but I think we can get that drink now. Maybe once we've drained the last drop, you'll come with me."
"Not likely." I said firmly and stood. Jess frowned. "You give me the cash and I'll go buy. I need to walk."
The brunette whipped out her wallet and tossed me some cash, then stretched out on the couch, a wide grin smothering her face. "You get the drinks and I get to dance. Nice."
I rolled my eyes and slid the dollars into my back pocket. I squeezed between the small doorway, spilled out into the massive crowd of people, rode along the back walls, ignoring the couples face-sucking and the drunk coeds and slipped out around a bar stool. A large man with a white beard braided with tiny poinsettias smiled at me as he handed a blonde girl an eggnog.
"What can I for you?" The man asked and quickly added: "Ho, ho, ho!"
I frowned at him and his "jolly" manner dissipated. "So what'll it be?"
"Um, a Christmas Cosmo," I said slowly glancing at the menu. "And one Peppermint Hard Stick."
The man nodded and turned away, beginning to make our drinks. I leaned forward on the bar, loving the feeling of having nothing run through my mind.
"Slayerness getting to you?"
I frowned and saw that Buffy was the girl sitting with the eggnog. She was idly stirring the white liquid with a small straw and staring lowly at the floor. "Be a Slayer sucks sometimes," she nodded then scowled and chugged the eggnog, a bitter face appearing afterwards. "No, wait all the time."
She was clearly on the verge of being very drunk. And I was NOT taking the blonde bitch home as she puked on my shoes. I glanced around, desperate to find anyone to entertain ranting Buffy. "Santa" handed me the drinks as my search became more and more wild.
"Being a Slayer is horrible," she pouted and shook her fist. "It's all 'I'm going to kill you', 'Grr', then it's all 'let's screw up Buffy's life to where's all icky and twisted and not simple, 'cuz it's funny to mess with the little girl'."
Oh, God, shut up. Trying hard not to whimper, I spun around to find anyone and immediately hit a body. Both drinks flipped in my hands and their contents poured onto my shirt.
"Careful there, luv, don't want to make a mess." Spike said, smirking. I shook the excess liquid, that which was not absorbed in my sweater, and scowled.
"Screw you, asshole."
"Is that what they say nowadays?" Buffy muttered into her glass. Spike's eyes flew from me to the blonde Slayer and his face immediately softened. The change was wickedly tangible. Spike moved and placed a hand on her back. My mouth dropped. He wasn't threatening to kill her, or going to hit her or say anything other than words of gentle comfort. If I was not much mistaken, should she return his actions, they very well make sweet love right there.
But she didn't. She pouted and twisted away. "Spike, not now."
"It's alright." Spike rubbed her shoulder but her movement to get away was less now. "I can take you home if you want."
Buffy glanced over her shoulder at me and shook her head. "Spike. Not. Now."
Spike stared at me too and an unhappy glare latched onto his face. "Bugger off, squeaky."
"Merry freakin' Christmas, you bastard." I scowled and stalked off to the other side of the bar to reorder. The Santa-like man returned with another grin on his face, but now it seemed slightly sinister.
"Same thing, babe?"
"Yeah," I muttered. He held out his hand as if expecting payment. I scowled and threw him the cash.
As the "generous" Santa bustled away, I rested my head in my hands, bored and a dull throbbing beating the inside of my skull.
"Spike, please stop."
I glanced up to see Buffy refusing to let Spike touch her. He wore a hurt expression and she was borderline anger and guilt.
"Come on, Buffy. Let me help you."
"I don't need your help Spike!" She finally stood and shoved away from him. "If I need any help, I'll ask Angel for it!"
At that, Spike froze, his mouth dropping slightly. Buffy had clearly struck a nerve. She frowned as if to say something to make it better, decided against it and spun on her heel and left.
"Here you go, lady," The Santa returned and placed two drinks in front of me. "Christmas Cosmo and Peppermint Hard Stick."
They both had plastic lids. Resisting the extremely persistent urge to smash his grinning face into the wood bar, I snatched them both up and barreled through the crowd.
When I found Jess again, she was completely stretched out, her shoes gone and a magazine dropped dramatically over her face.
"God, I thought you had gotten eaten up by the crowd or something," she said and scooped up her drink. "Ooo a festive Cosmo, good thinking."
She downed half of the drink right there.
"Slow down," I said and took up the couch across from her. "I am not carrying you home as you tell me how much you love me."
"That's after I puke on you and that usually doesn't happen until the hangover kicks in," Jess said solemnly and licked the corners of the glass. "You're safe tonight."
I shrugged and fingered the drink in my hands. "Do you know anything about Spike and Buffy? Like relationship wise?"
Jess giggled and dipped a skinny pinky finger into her drink. "Oh the stories I could tell . . ."
"As in nasty juicy stories?"
"And then some." Jess grinned. "Besides the inescapable gossip that seems to follow the young and undeniably beautiful, any particular reason you want to have stories to blackmail Spike with?"
I took a large swig of the Peppermint Hard Stick before answering, something like morals swishing around in my mouth. "Spike's my trainer. I told you I came here a little bit later than the rest of you and Buffy thinks I need to be caught up. So she placed her favorite vampire as the dragon tamer."
"Second favorite vampire," Jess said with a smirk.
A childish, tween giggle was welling in my throat but I bit it down. "I feel a story coming on."
"Oh, yes."
"And?" I asked, excitement pulsing through me.
"Well, there's a huge back story to all of it, but it goes something like this . . ."
Thirty minutes later I knew several things. More than a hundred years ago, a single vampire group basically ruled and ate most of Europe. Four elite vampires made up this bloodthirsty and vicious gathering; beautiful Darla, with hair as gleaming as the sunlit snow, dark and clinically insane Drusilla, with hair as black as her heart. Then there was evil and truly demonic Angelus, who killed for pleasure and the warm feeling of blood in his hands. Then there was William the Bloody, who came later to be known as Spike. He was the childe of Drusilla, both his creator and lover in a world of eternal night. ("His Sire, alright? But they liked to make with the kinkies too!" Jess had said, exasperated.) They ruled and ripped carnage everywhere they went, destroying and killing all that moved. In some way they were all connected, sire from sire and to sire. An ancient vampire by the very vague name of the Master turned Darla in 1609, saving her from syphilis and the human coil. In 1753 Darla sired Angel and they were inseparable, only when Darla's "Master" called. Then Angelus found a young girl while they were in London, around 1860. She was clairvoyant and perfectly and totally innocent, therefore intriguing Angelus to create his greatest masterpiece of destruction and pain. He captured this girl, tortured her to the brink of insanity and made her watch as he killed every last family member, finally pushing her over the edge. Then about twenty years later, Drusilla caught her eye on one young man as they walked down the streets of London. Drusilla lured this man in and instead of an easy meal, she made him a vampire, and hence Spike was born ("or reborn is the correct term").
Spike killed his first Slayer in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion in China. Angelus and Darla were back together after a fair amount of time apart. During that time apart, something happened to Angelus that almost made him untouchable to vampires everywhere. In 1898 a gypsy family cursed Angelus with a soul. A creature that had not felt guilt in over a hundred years, was now swimming in it, hearing every night the screams of his victims and seeing their blood-covered faces in the dark. The gang stayed in China for a while until they went West. Angelus, now called Angel, permanently broke apart from Darla and roamed the streets of New York, eating rats and drowning in his guilty sins. Spike and Drusilla were still together and in 1977, Spike killed Nikki Wood in a subway car and took her black leather duster, which some demons have called "his second skin" because there is few a time when he is without it.
In late 1998, Spike and Drusilla arrive in Sunnydale, California, following a rumor that the Hellmouth will make Drusilla strong again after an attack in Prague. This is where Spike crosses paths with a third Slayer, Buffy Summers.
"Wait," I said. "What?"
"Yeah, Hellmouth, a magical convergence of demonic forces and if used in a certain way, it's a doorway into Hell."
"That sounds like so much fun. But I thought Spike had a soul."
"He does, now. Back then he didn't and I'm getting to that part so let me finish . . ."
Spike and Buffy fought many battles against each other, Buffy's victories usually coming from the aid of her friends and her century-old boyfriend, Angel.
"Angel?" I asked, wide-eyed. "As in Angelus, Angel, the Scourge of Europe? That Angel?"
Jess grinned. "Yep."
"So what, a sixteen year old Slayer Buffy is dating a full blooded monster?"
"Well, he has a soul now and that keeps him from killing and doing dastardly deeds. He's basically human except for, you know, the blood lust, the no-going in sunlight and immortality."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Yeah. Basically."
"Anyways . . ."
Spike actually kidnapped Angel for a ritual that would bring Drusilla back to full health, the ritual was completed but in the process, a church fell on Spike. He and Drusilla stayed low after that. Meanwhile, things between Buffy and Angel became more& well, hot. After a particularly nasty run from Spike's minions, the pair headed back to Angel's apartment and did the dirty. Apparently, it went very well, so well in fact, the pair of them were perfectly happy, as a first-time should go, but that wasn't the end of it. Angel lost his soul again, part of the curse given to him by the gypsy's. He could not have one moment of perfect happiness unless Angelus would make an infamous return. And this time, he did and began wreaking havoc on the town of Sunnydale. He killed again and reunited with Drusilla and Spike, which seemed all fine and great until Angelus started making advancements on Drusilla again.
"Again?"
"Yeah," Jess said. "See way back when they practically ruled Europe, everything in the four wasn't the grounds for a nice little family. Spike seriously resented Angelus for never letting him forget that he was the top vampire, not Spike. But it went even further than that. Though Drusilla was eternally Spike's, Angelus loved to play sexy games with her and of course, being completely nuts, she let him. Spike didn't blame her for it, only Angelus for taking advantage of his lover while he sat by and couldn't do a thing about it. Angelus often liked to make Spike his . . . well, bitch."
"That'd make anyone hate his guts." I said. "I mean, if you love someone like that and then someone else constantly reminded you of how easy you two could be pulled away, yeah, I'd want to kill him too."
Though he had sworn to make this Slayer dead beneath his feet, Spike turned to Buffy, offering his help to stop Angelus from destroying the world by opening a portal into Hell. Of course, he really wanted Drusilla back, but if Angelus was wiped off the map in the process, well, that would be just be two birds. So, when it all came down, Spike managed to grab Drusilla and left Sunnydale for what seemed to be good, driving off to Brazil. Buffy, back in Sunnydale, fought with Angelus for a while and then Willow, who was just beginning to stretch her witchy-wings, restored his soul. Yet, Buffy knew what she had to do, and though her lover was back to normal, she ran him straight through the chest with a sword and the portal closed around him, instead of the world. Buffy ran off to Los Angelus for a bit before coming back to Sunnydale, finally accepting her Slayer duties. During this time, far south in Brazil, Spike had found Drusilla on a park bench making out with a Chaos demon, ending the pair for good. When Spike returned to Sunnydale, he found Angel back from Hell, but very weak with Buffy carefully cradling her lover. However, they were "just friends"; anything more ending in violent deaths all around. Spike then left Sunnydale, off to make Drusilla love him again. And by this time, the friendship ruse wasn't fooling any one. Buffy and Angel stopped seeing each other, friends or otherwise and she only came to him when she needed help in the Slayer business. It wasn't until about a year later when Spike returned to Sunnydale, looking for the Holy Grail of sorts for vampires, the Gem of Amara which made any vampire immune to staking and sunlight was their new best friend. Buffy, now in college, eventually took the ring from Spike and sent it to Angel in L.A. Spike, of course, followed and was backstabbed by a minion, which left him Gem-less and infuriated. He made the stupid mistake of returning to Sunnydale again, for unbeknownst to him, a government organization was capturing demons and making them harmless. Spike was one such victim and had a chip implanted in his head and it was only until he discovered he could still kill demons, did his life have anymore meaning. He chose to help the Scoobies, Buffy's gang, out of the need to kill demons, not out of good intentions, like Angel had. And then, one year later something changed that would reset the course of Spike's unlife forever. He realized he was in love with Buffy Summers, a vampire Slayer.
"Buffy?" I asked incredulously. "The girl who had repeatedly kicked his sorry ass?"
"Apparently the line between hunting to kill and hunting to make love to is not as fine as we all thought . . ."
"He's a twisted bastard."
"Duh."
"Didn't he know Buffy would never love him back?"
"Probably, but that didn't stop him from making advancements."
"He actually told her?"
"Repeatedly."
"He really IS twisted."
Spike constantly reminded the Slayer that something inside him changed, that he loved her so much he was drowning in her. He often tried to make nice with the rest of the Scoobies, but since his past was all so fresh in their minds, he never got far. The Slayer's little sister being an exception.
"Little sister? Did I miss something?"
"Nope. Dawn, the kid sister's name, was a magical key given to the Slayer in the form of a young girl. Memories were implanted into the Slayer's head and those around her, so that fifteen years of having Dawn in their lives was normal. The monks who sent the Key to Buffy wanted it under protection from a Hell-God that was bent on opening the threads between worlds so she could go back to her own Hell dimension but by doing so, destroying our own."
"So I'm guessing Buffy stopped the end of the world, or else we wouldn't be here."
"Yep. Shut the whole thing down and died."
I choked on my drink. "Died? As is no longer alive?"
Jess grinned. "Yep. Then right at the end of the following summer, Willow totally went witch-pro and brought her back from the dead. Laughter and merriment was to be found, but not for Buffy. She was all morbid and was rightly pissed off to be brought back from heaven."
"Heaven?" I asked quietly. Paradise. True eternal bliss. Then you have to come back to this place?
"Yeah," Jess said, her placental eyes knowing exactly where my thoughts lay. "But, it wasn't all bad, because shortly after the whole town of Sunnydale went Broadway Chicago, she and Spike ended up sleeping together."
"The vampire?"
"Whom she hated and repeatedly told over and over that there was no way she could ever return his crazy, creepy, love slash obsession."
"Ok, backwater Buffy, anything else?"
"Well, Buffy's life went down the crapper for about a year. She had no money, her sister hated her and she was sleeping with Spike to get her rocks off. Not to mention that Willow's first girlfriend, Tara, left her, then was later on shot and killed by a total psychopath. Giles went back to jolly Ol' England to give Buffy room to become a true adult and Xander left his fiancé at the alter on the day of their marriage."
"Xander was going to get married?" I asked surprised. "He'd have to come off his high horse to even look someone in the eye."
"He wasn't always like that," Jess said quietly. "His jokes weren't so morbid and he used to smile. But then at the end of the last year, his ex was killed in battle."
I stared at her. Jess sat, fingering the rim of her glass, her mind obviously in a very far off place.
"And you know this . . . how?"
Jess sat still for a minute before making a face that was a cross between a grimace and a smile. "Intuition, lets say. Makes it easier for us both if that's my answer."
She had never pressed anything with me, so I would return the favor. I urged her, however, to go on with the story.
"Right," she said. "So after Tara was murdered by one of Buffy's new enemies, Willow went into this dark rage. I mean literally, dark. The magics she tried to control were suddenly released from within and they took her to a very evil place. She killed the man that took her Tara away from her and she was then bent on a quest to stop the pain of humanity by bringing it all to an end. She was going to destroy the world and Xander, of all people, stopped her. He told her that he loved her no matter what she did, no matter how big a bad ass she was, or how tiny and sad and nerdy she was. He loved her just the same and apparently that was enough to stop the end of the world. She was brought back to England with Giles to control her vast power before returning to Sunnydale. In the meantime, a huge evil called the First came to town and began to kill girls throughout the world that had the potential to become the next Slayer."
Something stirred in my memory and a hospital and Giles cleaning his glasses came to mind.
"Yeah," I said slowly. "Giles mentioned something about the First a long time ago."
"Well, it was a big deal. But we're missing a big issue here. Spike."
"Wow, yeah. So sleeping with Buffy, a lot."
"But it was more than that," Jess said, her voice taking on that distant tone again. "Spike originally thought that this was it, that given one night with him and she wouldn't be able to live without him. Which was partly true, but not for the reasons he wanted. She saw him as an escape from life, from the pain of being back and he thought, or maybe hoped, that she was finally falling in love with him. But that was certainly not the case and after accidently catching Spike and Xander's ex, Anya, in the act, she was visibly in pain. He thought that was the final deal, that it hurt so badly because she loved him. Spike, one night, went to talk to her after the fact, and then he—"
She trailed off, her eyes thick as though she was watching this event play out right in front of her.
"He tried to rape her." Jess finally said. "He wanted to make her feel the passion again, the fire when they were together."
"He wouldn't do that." I said shortly. "I mean, he's an asshole. But he wouldn't. Would he?"
"It shocked them both, Spike in such a way that he knew he had to change before he could go on living. So he left Sunnydale, for Africa, to seek out a legend about a demon that would grant any wish if the Trials were completed. Spike won and he was given back his soul."
"Spike won his soul, for Buffy?" I asked slowly. He nearly died to be a better person, for someone he knew would never love him back. But he did it anyway.
"Yeah," Jess said, agreeing with me in more ways than one. "So, imagine her surprise when he started to kill humans again."
"He what?"
"The First, the big baddy, was controlling him through his new soul and the chip in his brain deactivated whenever he killed, then reactivated after the First left him alone. Eventually the trigger was broken, but not before Spike repeatedly asked Buffy to kill him. He wanted to die for the things he done, and he was willing to risk Hell to do it."
"And Buffy still didn't love him?"
"Well, that's much disputed. She definitely couldn't ignore the risks he took to be a better man for her but after everything, could you love someone like that?"
"I would try." That was the god's honest truth.
"She told him though," Jess said, her eyes drifting off again. "Angel, in L.A, sent an amulet to Sunnydale that would help in the coming war against the First. Eventually, when it was all going down, Spike, who was wearing the amulet at the time, began to glow and eventually killed all of the Turokan vampires, whose numbers lay near the ten thousands, he killed them all in about fifteen seconds by channeling sunlight through the amulet and his very soul."
"Spike saved the world?"
"Yeah and as the Hellmouth crumbled down around them, Buffy told Spike she loved him."
"Wonderful timing, crazy bitch." I said, astounded.
Jess laughed. "I know, right? So then the Hellmouth closed and Spike somehow made it out. The epic love tale that was Spike and Buffy seemed finally to have a fairytale ending, and that was until Angel appeared on Buffy's Italian doorstep, one hundred and ten percent human."
"Human?" My mouth dropped. "As in flesh and blood and beating heart?"
"Yep. Now I probably haven't done their story justice, but what Angel and Buffy had is matched by a very, very small few. Spike and Buffy's love story may not even make the list. Angel fulfilled a prophecy and played a pivotal role in an epic battle, giving Buffy the amulet and combined with his several decade's worth of good deeds, he was given a full blown second chance."
"Wait, so what happened to Spike and Buffy?"
"Buffy took Angel in and that same old fire began to relight and bondages were made again, only this time when the burning fire that is love finally consumed them both, there was no backlash of Angel killing everyone."
"And Spike?"
"He stayed around, finally a hero, but he was now just a family friend. He and Buffy remain close friends to this day."
"While his bastard of a once-sire gets to parade around with the love of his un-life, flaunting humanity and Buffy in his face?"
"In a nut shell." Jess sat back and took the final swig of her third drink, her eyes studying my every move.
I stared at the ground, the liquor from my fifth Peppermint Hard Stick burning my throat. Is this the reason why Spike walked around like nothing could touch him? Because nothing really could, because, nothing mattered without Buffy. Was it Buffy's fault that he was a complete jackass and this was the only way he could deal with his grief? Something like familiarity bit the inside of my mouth.
"I need a smoke," I muttered.
Jess nodded and sloshed the salt around in the bottom of her Christmas Cosmo. "Ok, just come back with drinks. I'm going to go dance."
She was already gone by the time I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and some matches. I twisted and dove through the thumping crowd and shoved heavily on a metal door. A cold blast of fresh air stung my face but the night was as refreshing as a sharp mint. I stood in a back alley, the left leading off into endless black and a chain metal fence to the right, with a variety of overturned trashcans and empty boxes littering the ground.
With a sharp scrap against the brick, the match came to life and I cupped my hand around the flame until it sizzled with glee against the tobacco paper. The match fell to the ground, done and complete in its service as I gulped in a lungful of hot smoke.
Spike lost everything he ever loved, and to someone who had haunted him for decades. What was so freaking amazing about Angel that gave him the audacity to take away the one important thing in Spike's life? And who the hell was Buffy to diminish all the pain and suffering Spike went through, just for her? Forget love or passion, acknowledging how deeply this man loves you is just common freaking courtesy. How dare she—
Wow. I giggled. I was actually feeling sorry for Spike. Drunk didn't even begin to cover it.
"Having a nice time, luv?"
The voice coming from the moving shadow nearly gave me a very violent heart attack.
"God, Spike," I gasped and breathed in more smoke, trying to settle my spastic nerves. "Is that you?"
"In the sodding flesh," he said and stepped into the full cast of moonlight. "But apparently you have to have a damn working heart and be a righteous git to get anything around here."
Something, tasting sick and metallic, almost like pity, swarmed on the tip of my tongue. Tipsy words came lashing out on my tongue, and I knew very well neither he nor I would remember this tomorrow.
"Spike, look," I said, noting the very drunk way he stumbled towards me and the blurry tinge with which I watched him. "Screw that Angel. He's a stupid, arrogant jerk that thinks he can get whatever he likes because he was once a bad ass."
"Is that right?" Spike asked, now frightfully close. I cringed, knowing the only time he was ever this close was before he punched my lights out. But if he was going to beat me down, something else was going through his mind first. He stumbled as he reached out and took the cigarette from me and took his own violent gulp. Normally I would have kicked him in a place where it wouldn't grow back but that metallic taste only let my face make a semi-angry expression.
"And Spike, I know why you're such an ass. I know Buffy left you."
Spike stared down at the ground and kicked a pebble with his boot. "Do you think she ever loved me? Or was it just the butterfly in the tummy sort of thing?"
"I don't know and frankly I don't really care." I said and snatched back my cigarette. "You just need to move on."
"Would you love me?" He asked loudly, his eyes gray and hard like steel chains. "If I nearly died for you, to become someone you might accept, would you love me?"
"I would try." I said bravely and so stupidly. Spike looked at me the same way he had looked at Buffy while at the bar: sad and lonely with bare wistful hope; it was all he could do. Somewhere far off a crowd counted down to Christmas day and as I stared off into the midnight sky, Spike suddenly moved with lightening speed. I wanted to cringe, waiting for pain to explode over some part of my body but it never came.
A gentle hand swooped up around my neck, pulling my head up before soft lips parted my own and Spike was kissing me. Someone in that counting crowd let off a firework, the light scorched behind my closed eyes and then I shoved him away.
"God," I spat. "You pervert. I'm trying to help you and you try and French me."
"Merry bloody Christmas." He garbled. He took my cigarette again.
"Can you guys do that again?" Someone asked from the dark alley. A tall thin man with abnormally pale skin stepped into the florescent lights. He wore a dark black suit and walked as though the night carried him forward on its cool breath. His carefully trimmed beard and sharp hair spoke of a very expensive haircut.
"Christmas is so full of love and romance. I just can't seem to get my fill."
Something wasn't right about this man or the way he walked and spoke. He was out for something other than festive partying.
"Buzz off," I snapped but Spike just chuckled. He chucked the cigarette to the ground.
"You don't know what he is?" He laughed again and spun drunkenly on his heel. "Whew, this should be good."
Spike stumbled back to the wall and waved me towards the man in the suit. The man was frowning.
"Ah, that's no fun," he frowned. "I wanted my boys to feed on two passionate lovers locked in an internal embrace."
"There's love everywhere tonight, just not here."
Buffy was standing with her arms crossed in front of the metal door. Her eyes glittered fiercely in the dark night. "You could have chosen any other street in this god-forsaken town but you chose this one. And you know what? I'm really glad you did."
"Feed?" I asked, my gaze switching back and forth between Buffy and the man at the end of the alley. "We're seriously going to stop this guy from munching down on some curly fries?"
"Use your Slayer sense, Reid." Buffy said sternly. "He's not human."
The tingles running down my spine finally made sense. I thought I was getting vibes from Spike but it was stronger. I should have realized that; the guy in the dark suit was a vampire.
"Slayer?" The man said, frowning again. "Well it's not the heated blood of drunken love-fools, but Slayers blood . . . Hmm. Maybe the boys will like Slayers' blood instead."
He made a quick twist of his wrist, in a calling movement, and from the shadows, figures moved out into the open. They came, crouching and crawling, hissing and growling. Vampires. Their faces were contorted and twisted, fangs open and barring. Their demonic eyes were set on the three of us. There must have been at least ten.
Buffy called to me and something twirled into my hand: a stake.
Fight. Kill. It was my destiny.
Four of the vampire immediately set off for Buffy and three dashed off towards Spike. And three came straight at me. One leapt, its fangs baring and glistening and I ducked. It crashed into a trashcan behind me and was still.
Wow. Was it really that—
A fierce punch collided with my face and I stumbled. There were growls and hisses and I knew they were coming closer. But it didn't hurt. Ok, it did, but nothing like one of Spike's punches. I opened my eyes to the vamps swirling around me like solidified flames and grinned.
One with a bad mullet swung for my head again and I ducked, blocked and kicked him right in the chest. The vamp's body limp in my hands, I twisted and hurled Mullet into his accomplice, a vampire with a large nose piercing. The vamp in the trash stirred and bounded to his feet, hissing and clearly pissed. Trash Vamp tried a kick but I blocked. It punched but as I blocked out with an angry growl, Trash Vamp grabbed my wrists and smashed its forehead against mine.
The world swam with black night and flashing lights. A pain, rivaling one caused by Spike, had exploded in my head and I dropped to my knees. Something painful latched onto my shoulders and pulled me to my feet. Something else was punching my face. I felt skin rip and blood poured down my cheek.
This was training. Spike, being so fast, managed to hold onto me as he beat me to a pulp. But this time, he wouldn't stop until those white, solid fangs pierced my flesh and drained me completely of life.
I ducked and heard a grunt as one of those wild fists collided with the vamp behind me. I kicked up with my heel and the Trash Vamp groaned, my foot getting him right between the legs. The grip around my shoulders loosened and I twisted forward, hurling Nose Piercing to the ground. My hands jerked up, the stake clutched tightly in my fingers and drove the weapon home. Nose Piercing shattered into oblivion. Mullet had come around again, crouching down. His head popped back as my foot connected with his chin. He flipped back, sprawled out on the ground and my stake plunged into his chest. Mullet was gone and then Trash Vamp shattered into dust without much of a growl; I had ducked and stabbed.
Buffy was pulling a vamp away from Spike as he smashed another's head into a brick wall. Buffy flipped the vamp and with a victorious stab, it showered into dust. Spike spun the second and like a well-oiled, perfectly synced team, Buffy destroyed that one as it came across on Spike's swing. The head vampire in the suit was long gone.
There was a brief silence before Spike turned sheepishly to the blonde Slayer near him.
"Buffy—" he began.
"Spike, what the hell were you thinking?" She asked incredulously.
"I didn't mean anything by it. I'm completely waste-faced drunk and I—"
"Spike, why do you think Reid isn't ready for the field?" She interrupted and looked at me. A small smile broke out over her face. "She's amazing."
Spike's mouth dropped as he switched his glare back and forth between Buffy and I. "She's— I— we— right, then. She's bloody brilliant."
He nodded towards Buffy, gave me a quick glance before heading back into the club.
"I don't know what he's looking for," Buffy shook her head. "You're really good at Slaying. Would you want to come on a patrol with us? There's one tomorrow at a local graveyard. Nothing to fancy but you gotta roll before you can back-flip."
Real life Slaying. Doing the real thing. And Buffy thought I was good enough. Screw Spike and his stupid training. I can totally kick ass.
"Yeah, God, yeah," I said grinning and spun the stake in my palm. "Let's do it."
Buffy grinned but the expression was transparent; inside I saw a flicker of doubt, as though she was worried what I would do with a full blown battle axe.
"Great, see you outside of the institute around five tomorrow. Merry Christmas." She waved over her shoulder and walked back into the club.
A jolt of excitement bit my nerves and a naïve pride made me think of Jess. It was Christmas, maybe I should tell her. With a smart grin, I fell back into the twitching black with neon lights and pounding music. It was Christmas and I was going to tell her, whether she wanted to know or not.