She knew she had nothing to fear from the local vampires now; Angelus had brought them all under his control, or killed them-- they wouldn't touch her. She didn't think of the local demons, though. Most towns either had vampires or demons, and as she traveled with vampires, she'd never suffered a demon attack before. First time for everything.
The thing was a shiny blue-grey, and as slippery smooth as butter, except its hands, which were covered in tiny little prickles, and which held Eve tight as she struggled. She hadn't seen this thing coming, but the smell alone was enough incentive to kill it.
While she fought, she managed to lift both legs and slam her heels into its shins, but her bare feet skittered off the smooth surface without causing the demon to loosen its hold at all. Eve wasn't afraid-- not yet-- but she was starting to get a little nervous.
Neither she nor the demon heard their silent attacker, but when the demon's plasticky skin was punctured by a sharp wooden object, it released Eve to face the new threat.
The slave ran away a good distance before checking over her shoulder; she stopped when she saw the dark-skinned slayer knock the demon to the pavement. Its hands seemed to stick to the ground, and Kendra easily broke the demon's neck with a booted foot.
Eve trotted back to the scene to marvel at the slimy mass the demon was slowly melting into. "Hey, thanks," she offered.
Kendra looked up, startled. "Oh, it's you," she said in her awkward accent. At Eve's raised eyebrow, Kendra shrugged. "Belthize Demon."
Eve sniffed indifferently, correcting her, "Dead demon."
The two girls shared an uncomfortable moment before turning away simultaneously; they each had other business that night.
***
Eve ate and returned to the mansion quickly, not particularly comfortable with the idea of facing another demon.
Spike was pacing alone in his room when Eve arrived, but he looked up sharply when she slipped in. "Knock when-" He stopped, sniffing at the air. "What happened?" He grabbed Eve's neck and studied the hand-shaped pattern of cuts there.
Eve offered a weak grin. "Hey. What's a Belthize Demon?"
"Something not to be messed with," Spike informed her. "You reek of it. How'd you get away?"
Eve shrugged in embarrassment. "Slayer." Spike snorted. "Not Buffy," Eve added. "The other one."
That got Spike's attention. "The *other* one? She's back?" At Eve's silent nod, he cursed and started pacing again. "Great. Fantastic. So they already know."
Eve recognized his tone as 'worried about Drusilla.' "What's happened?" She asked.
"Dru had a vision." Spike suddenly slumped and sunk into his chair.
"Okay... is that the crazy, 'butterflies in my bones' kind of vision, the 'oo, danger coming, let's go back to Prague' kind of vision, or the 'gee, I just thought of a great way to end the world' kind of vision?" At Spike's look, Eve surmised, "Ah. The last one, then. Am I hiding in my room again?"
"Fat lot of good it would do you," Spike muttered, shaking his head. "C'mon, you must have missed it." He rolled out of the room, carefully navigated the stairs in his wheelchair as there were many minions hanging about, and led Eve into the living room.
She stared at the object in front of her. "Um, it's our new center piece?" She guessed half-jokingly. Spike shot her a baleful look and she added, "Center piece to end all center pieces?" The grim set of Spike's lips told her how serious this was. "Where'd it come from?"
Spike lit a cigarette thoughtfully. "Dru and Angel picked it up. They sent the boys back with it, but they'll be here eventually. Got to turn it on. Whatever the bloody hell it is."
They both stared for a moment at the large, squarish rock filling up the living room. Spike perked up; he heard Angelus and Drusilla approaching. He offered with false nonchalance, "It's a big rock. I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big."
Angelus smirked, brushing uncomfortably close to Eve as he passed and sniffing her neck thoughtfully. "Spike, boy," he answered, "You never did learn your history."
Spike responded tersely, "Let's have a lesson, then."
***
Dawn broke over the small town, and the little girl stumbled home. Her nightgown was ruined, her hair in messy tufts, and she wobbled as she tried to walk the yellow line down Central Street.
Up ahead, Mr. McGregor, the grocer, was walking his dogs, but when he saw the little girl, he ran to her side. She flinched away from him when he tried to hold her. He grabbed her arms anyway and she began to tremble. He took in her blank eyes, the giant bruise that seemed to cover her mouth, and some of the less gruesome marks that showed on her skin through the tears in her nightgown. "My God, what happened to you?" He was horrified.
"Shh," she whispered, "He's not gonna come back now 'till I'm all grown up." Mr. McGregor looked her over, barely suppressing the sudden urge to vomit as he spotted the trickle of blood moving down her leg-- instead he scooped the little girl into his arms. She struggled as he carried her to the police station on the next street over. "Let me go," she kicked at him pathetically, "Let go!" He could tell she was on the verge of hysterics; her body trembling so hard he could barely keep her in his grip.
He made comforting shushing noises, but when the girl's foot connected with his groin, he dropped to one knee and she squirmed out of his arms, running dazedly away from him, away from Central Street, and away from the police station. Mr. McGregor would have followed her, but he was on all fours, vomiting on the sidewalk, his dogs wandering haphazardly around him, trailing their leashes.
The little girl ran into the woods, letting the branches that scratched at her tear the rest of her nightgown away. She found the pond where her neighbor had once taken her fishing and dove in. The water was a murky brown and covered in a film of algae, but it was cool and it soothed her. She swam to the center of the pond and floated onto her back, eyes staring unseeingly at the clear blue sky. As if as an after thought, she ran her hand over her face. Sighing in relief at the lack of strange bumps and wrinkles, she whispered, "He didn't change me." Then she turned onto her stomach and dove under water.
***
Mr. McGregor summoned the police and they were looking for her. Word of a girl's appearance gave hope to the townspeople; some thought she might be one of the girls who hadn't been found, others whispered that at the very least, she could describe the killer who had never been captured.
More and more people joined the search, walking in a line through backyards and parks. They didn't find the little blonde girl Mr. McGregor had described, but they did find the body of Molly Cunningham.
With this irrefutable proof that the same killer was in their midst again, the locals began to panic. The search for the injured girl was forgotten as swarms of townspeople crowded the park, stretching behind the yellow police tape to see if the rumors were true, if the killing had started again. News reporters interviewed various sections of the crowd, and on the swing sets, a hysterical woman sat sobbing.
Bob McGregor scanned the scene in frustration; he didn't know that little girl's name, but he was sure she was local-- he'd recognized her face from the grocery store, and he'd know her mother if he saw the woman. As far as he could tell, she wasn't there.
By mid-afternoon, the crowd had become enormous, and a naked, bruised, little girl had to sneak through her neighbors' yards to get back to her house.
She heard her Mum's soft snores as she entered. She tip-toed to her own room, dressed quickly, and moved to the kitchen. Her brother and sister were watching cartoons and munching on Corn Chex. The little girl noticed their cereal was dry and checked the refrigerator, not really expecting to find any milk there. Finding a normal chore to do was a relief, and she offered, "I'll go to the grocery store if one of you comes with me." She fished in the icebox for some money.
Her brother agreed to come along and they made their way through town.
The little girl studiously ignored the haunted faces of the grown ups as she ignored the aches in her own body. Her brother asked what was going on and she informed him indifferently, "Molly Cunningham got killed last night; they're upset." The boy nodded, still confused. At McGregor's Grocery, she sent her brother in alone.
She sat on the curb to wait and witnessed the pulse and throb of an overwrought, over-full town. Tucking her legs under her chin, the little girl closed her eyes.
***
Eve had been sent to her room, but Angelus soon followed her there. "The world ends tonight," he announced happily. He walked around the edges of the room, watching Eve with a look that would have disturbed her had she pulled her eyes away from the wall.
"I've heard that before," Eve informed him.
He walked slowly towards her. "Sure, but not from me." Reaching her, he drew her to her feet and tilted her head back to look at her slight wounds. "You know I'm more of a follow through kind of guy than Spike." His words were a promise. Angelus licked up her neck, then growled, "A Belthize." He pushed Eve away so he could look her in the eye when he scolded, "You left the mansion without permission." Eve took a deep breath, but said nothing; she had no defense for her actions. Angelus's eyes narrowed. "When you are my childe, you *will* obey me." He tilted her head the other way, revealing his mark.
Eve let him maneuver her, but asked, "What do you mean, your 'childe'?"
Angelus tisked. "Spike hasn't explained-"
"I know what you mean," Eve interrupted without thinking. "Why would you- wh-"
"The world ends tonight," Angelus snapped, "but I'm not finished with you yet." Now Eve struggled, trying to back out of Angelus's grasp. He laughed. "What are you doing?"
"Let me go," she ground out. He dropped his hand incredulously; she scrambled into a corner, but knew she couldn't escape.
"You understand that the world will be sucked into Hell," he spoke slowly, dangerously. "I'm doing you a *favor*, making you a demon first." It really wasn't his style to run around saving lives-- not lately, at least. But Eve... she had such potential for darkness in her; it was already there. All Angelus had to do was break her, and then release it. Okay, he hadn't quite managed to destroy her will yet, but he'd been distracted by Buffy... She still haunted him, and he really didn't want to admit that he couldn't take that final step against her anymore than she could take it against him. No matter, Acathala would take care of all that, and afterwards he would still have Eve to make use of as he saw fit.
The slave was shaking her head stubbornly, her eyes darting frantically and uselessly around the room. "No. Doing me a favor would be just killing me."
"But why would I want to do that?" Angelus grinned, but his eyes narrowed in warning; he'd had just about enough of Eve's misbehavior.
She faced him, her jaw set. "I won't let you turn me," she warned.
Now Angelus laughed out loud. "Stop me," he challenged, grabbing her again. He wrenched Eve's head sideways and slammed his teeth into her neck, pulling relentlessly on her blood, calling her into him.
Eve screamed, loud and furious and desperate and unlike any sound Spike had ever heard her make. He was pacing his room and nearly dashed to the door at the wail, but remembered himself in time, fetching his wheelchair and jerkily rushing to Eve's room.
She was kicking and scratching ineffectually; she could feel Angelus chuckle against her neck. Eve had been bitten before, but this was different, more real, more painful than anything these teeth had tried to inflict on her yet. The pain stretched on, and though she had come to expect that she could withstand any torture, the knowledge of what Angelus was doing to her ripped through Eve, and she bucked and cried impotently.
Seconds passed as centuries, lifetimes, all that she would have to wade through soon, and Eve turned resigned eyes away from Angelus as if she could tune out the sensation of him killing her. The obscene sucking, slurping, gulping noise rang in her ears even as all pain began to recede from her body.
Eve's eyes focused on an object just under her blanket, and she laughed hysterically, reaching above her head with one hand and pulling out the stake Spike had given her. She raised it slowly, fighting four years of conditioning as she closed her eyes and drove the stake into Angelus's back.
He gurgled in surprise, tearing away from her, his face twisted in shocked pain. Eve sat up, surprisingly calm, though her arms were shaking. She watched the pain fade from Angelus's features along with his game face. Now he was just furious.
At that moment, the door burst open and Spike rolled in. Angelus glared at him with disdain. Spike's worried gaze traveled over both the room's occupants, not missing the gaping wound on Eve's neck or the stake lodged in Angelus's back, just below his heart.
Angelus snarled, "Fine. Don't be a vampire. You'll be able to get the full 'Hell' experience better with a soul anyway." He stood jerkily, his movements stiff as he left the room.
Spike closed the door on Angelus's call for his minions' assistance. Eve watched the blond vampire stand and approach her, a troubled look on his face. He squatted in front of the slave and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking hungrily at her wound. Eventually his eyes met hers again as he explained apologetically, "They're doing it tonight. There's no time to stop them."
Eve's eyes widened in horrified realization as his head dipped to her neck. She felt his teeth slide almost gently into the wound Angelus had left. "What are you doing?" She asked numbly after Spike took the first careful pull of blood.
"Shh," Spike withdrew enough to murmur against her skin. "It doesn't matter who you belong to anymore; soon you will have no master."
He bent back to her neck, but Eve gently pushed him away. "I don't care. I won't let you turn me."
Spike frowned, pulling her tight against him. "I'm not Angelus-"
"I don't want to be a vampire," Eve ground out carefully.
Spike sat back, confused and thoughtful. "You've always known this was coming."
Eve made no reply, but as Spike watched her eyes darken, he realized, "You were never gonna let it happen." His voice barely broke the volume of a whisper, his shock was so great. "You've always known what I wanted and you..."
Eve was determined. "I'm not gonna let you turn me."
Spike nodded distractedly, sorrow and what Eve was certain couldn't be betrayal written in his eyes. "You said that. What if I take you anyway? You gonna stake me?"
Eve shrugged. "No more stakes."
They stared at each other stubbornly. Finally, Spike made one last plea, "The world gets sucked into Hell, you don't wanna have a heartbeat."
Eve shook her head. "I don't care. Nobody's making me a vampire."
"I'm sorry," Spike whispered, and for a moment Eve thought he was going to turn her anyway; she really didn't have any strength left with which to fight him. "You know I'd stop this if I could." Eve watched Spike stand and walk backwards, his expression mournful as he sat in his wheelchair and left her.
She gulped in relief, alone again. On shaky legs, she went into the bathroom to find a plaster to put on her neck. She wasn't dead yet.
***
Eve had fallen asleep on her pallet, and Spike roused her gently, a small, awed grin on his face. She rolled over, blinking at him sleepily. Suddenly she sat up and rubbed her eyes. "The world didn't end." She smiled, then glanced around the cold room. "Did it?"
Spike grinned at her uncertainly, eyes shining. "Nope. Apparently, Angelus wasn't worthy."
Eve returned his grin. "That must have pissed him off."
"And how. He's killed half the minions looking for volunteers."
A frown crossed Eve's lips. "Volunteers for what?"
"He's going to try again." Spike shrugged hopelessly.
"Oh," Eve whispered, knowing her determined master would eventually succeed. "So what are you going to do about it?"
Spike glanced at her sharply. "What do you think I can do? You and I aren't exactly ready to take on Angelus-- you're too weak, and you know Dru would defend him against me." A thought struck Spike and he bit into his wrist, offering the open wound to Eve. At her hesitation, he urged, "Take it. For strength."
Eve bent slowly to his wrist; her head hovered over his crotch, where his extended arm rested. Spike sat cross-legged and saw Eve watch his eyes darken when she began to drink. Spike held himself still and tried not to imagine that he'd succeeded in draining the girl and was now turning her into one of his own kind. She pulled away before she needed to and turned her face to the side. They shared the space in silence for a while before Eve croaked, "Thanks."
Spike mumbled awkwardly. "Won't matter anyway, not after Angelus gets that demon going." He found himself leaning in towards her neck. She'd tried to bind the bite, but it had bled through the bandage.
Spike was peeling the wrapping back when Eve warned him calmly, "I got another stake." Spike pulled back to meet the girl's eyes. He honestly couldn't tell if she was bluffing or not, so he relaxed back against the wall. He sat there, she lay there, each lost in thought, before Eve inquired, "I thought we were looking for allies."
Spike frowned. "What- You mean the slayer? I thought you and her are on the outs. Unless you mean the other slayer?"
Eve smiled ruefully. "Let's say she and I are on the outs too."
"So Buffy, then." Spike knew the slayer wasn't really an option, not anymore. He felt the possibilities of life sliding away from him, and he shuddered with the powerlessness of it.
"Maybe if you talked to her-" Eve started, but was dismissed by Spike's snort. He lay down on Eve's blanket, tucking his hands behind his head and staring thoughtfully into space.
"Tell me something," he commanded.
Eve sighed and rolled to face him. She thought a moment before starting, "You know, you weren't the first vampire who wanted to turn me." Spike faced her quizzically and she explained, "When I was a little girl, I was nine, I met a man... He was a vampire." Spike looked like he was going to ask a question, many questions, so Eve paused, but his silence indicated to her that she should continue. "I saw him putting this dead girl out to be found. In a park near my house. Anyway, he turned to me and his face was all... you know." She met Spike's eyes. "He wanted to turn me, but I asked him not to. I don't know why he agreed..."
"He just let you go?" Spike asked with an odd, unreadable expression.
Eve shrugged. "Eventually."
"What'd he do to you?" Spike stroked a hand down Eve's side, ignoring the feel of her scars beneath her shirt.
She snuggled into him, her eyes dropping to his chin as she mumbled, "Does it really matter? He didn't make me like him; that's all I cared about."
Spike continued to rub her hip. "Did you ever see him again?"
"He said he was gonna come back for me when I was older-" Eve felt Spike twitch and hurriedly assured him, "You and Dru got there first." She curled into Spike as he held her fast against him. "There were no more mysterious deaths like that after I met him. Maybe he's, you know, dust."
Spike tightened his hold on Eve, confused by the unexpected swirl of emotions she elicited from him. He thought about a nine year old girl. He thought about the end of the world. He thought about the possibility of an alliance with Buffy.
***
"No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we? Helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are."