Title: Unbroken
Author: Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive
comments always welcome: jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: S/A, W/I, references
to W/F
Rating: R to possibly some
soft NC-17
Spoilers: Some for Time Bomb
and some concerning rumours about the Season Finale otherwise completely AU
Warnings: Character Deaths
(Off-Screen), Violence, Language, and the usual goodies.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them
for a bit of harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained
by their owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s Notes: This story takes place in an AU setting. Please excuse any minor
discrepancies or artist license. As always thanks are going out to GF, MarieC,
Luba, and Mera my most excellent group of Beta/Editors.
Distribution: If I’ve already been
given permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If
I haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you
email me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit.
Summary:
Flashback Sequence
*
Prologue
She isn’t sure how
long she lay curled on her side after her existence was torn to shreds in the
name of saving her life. She lay curled as weak as a kitten, raging with all
her immortal fury at being cast down to such a fate. They stood as statues, their
eyes heavy on her, like the mantle of the King she/he once was. One by one they
melted from sight but in their foolishness they assumed her helpless,
contained, and trapped and that would be their downfall.
She could feel their
eyes upon her, roving like grotesque slugs, laying their repugnant slime heavy
on her skin. She could sense them as easily as if no walls parted the way.
There; the one who would be a king; in truth he was little more than a pawn in
a game so much larger than he could see with his meagre half-breed eyes. Beside
him, the broken one that could only see in her, the vessel of the life that
once ruled her disgustingly frail shell. They could not see her magnificence,
they did not worship, they did not tremble and that is unacceptable.
She can feel the
white-haired half-breed beyond the wall, lingering but not spying upon her as
the others do. He is an interesting one, a strange juxtaposition of conflicting
impulses that reminds her of the Nixta gem that once adorned her crown. The rarest
of gems, their constantly changing colours and facets almost hypnotic to look
upon and never were they the same twice. The others she can understand, they
fit within her experience.
The one they call
Angel, she has met before, in a million different faces and a myriad of forms
but all the same beneath the surface. He is the man who would be King with no
conception of the cost; the knight out to slay the dragon yet too oblivious to
see that he is already roasting in its fire.
Wesley, sad and broken
Wesley, an infant that thinks he can walk as a man. He tries so hard to see
what was that he cannot see what is. That ability to focus could almost
draw her respect, if it were not fixated so uselessly on wasted emotion; on the
pointless confusion of grief. It is all so simple. Life is given and life is
taken as life is treasured so too can it be stolen. What use are tears when
they can change nothing at all? The memories of her shell still exist within
but it is like trying to read a book without knowing the language that it is
written in. These futile emotions that only confuse and upset her; they are to
blame for the perversion of her perfection. For that alone they should all
perish in slow agony.
The simpering waste of
space that is the Green One, he is empty of purpose and blind of vision. He is
as clueless as a child, with no direction and only able to follow in the wake
of others allowing them to define him.
The Dark One; he wears
his guilt like armour but without the understanding that its protection is not
there to guard others from his folly. Guilt serves no purpose like a battle
from which nothing is gained. Foolishly naïve and believing that blood can buy
forgiveness he took the place of the strange bag of sticks they call Lindsey.
The one who once owned this shell is long beyond the need for apologies; the
only one that must forgive, is the one that seeks it.
She doesn’t know what
possessed her to listen to the concerns of an inferior spot on the landscape.
The debt owed was not worth the time to engender it and still she bothered.
That disgusts her and confuses her greatly but she will never betray her
weakness. Yes she knows these ones well enough.
The white-hair though
is different, more reverent yet with the intuitive knowledge that the others
lack. He knows her for what she is, can strike at her form without sentiment
when those around him can barely manage to speak in her presence. The shells
memories of this one are complex and tangled, it; Fred; once risked much to
help him only to need his help to continue its existence. Someone worth saving
this shell once said. Perhaps in its infancy it spoke a truth that it could not
recognise as such.
As she was cast adrift
on the waves of time, she saw much more than loops and paradoxes. The future
revealed to her is rife with blood and the living and the dying alike burned in
the rubble of what will come to pass. She is stronger than they know but not as
strong as necessary to prevent what is coming and less understanding of why she
would want to.
She doesn’t know what
draws her to the white-haired half-breed. She remembers her imperious demand to
have him as her pet. She remembers the wrenching pain as the stake thrust
through his back and into his heart, the feel of his ashes raining over her as
she strode through the fallout. She could not name the emotions assaulting her
but now it makes no difference. Some insolent, inconsequential bit of nothing
seeks to make her a pawn when she was once a King, a Queen, and the whole of
the board. She will not be demeaned and looked down upon. She is stronger than
they know but weaker than she has ever been. She will be able to take but one
to safety and she knows which of them it shall be.
She waits, coiled and
resting, biding her time and gathering her resources and formulating her plan.
One by one she feels the eyes slide away until she is left to her solitude and
her time has come.
*
Chapter One: A Plan In Motion
Angel tosses the bulging folder onto the
conference table biting back a growl of annoyance.
“Where the hell is Spike? I told him to be here
on time!” He snarls, startling the three men and Harmony from their seats
around the conference table. “Harmony, find him!” He turns his stormy gaze on
the hapless blond and his eyes narrow menacingly. “NOW would be good.”
“Yes Boss, right away!” She jumps up and
scuttles out of the office to call the security desk.
Meanwhile Angel proceeds with the rest of the
meeting and hands out the assignments to Wesley, Gunn, and Lorne. A very meek
and subservient Harmony returns in a few moments, keeping her eyes lowered and
her posture non-confrontational.
“I’m sorry Angel. Security said they show him
leaving the building but they don’t have any records of him re-entering it
since then. I told them to send someone around to his place but you know
Blondie Bear, if he doesn’t want to be found, there’s no telling where he is.”
She keeps her voice low and respectful; glad she’s not in Spike’s shoes right
now.
The muscles in Angel’s jaw start to twitch and
spasm and everyone drops their eyes, following Harmony’s example for pacifying
the elder Vampire’s raging emotions.
“Did they check the cameras in his apartment?”
Angel asks suddenly, looking a little sheepish as the four share
a horrified expression and turn their eyes to drill into him. “Well it seemed
like a good idea after that whole Doyle/Lindsey thing. I didn’t want him trying
to manipulate him anymore.” He defends his decision to make sure Spike’s
apartment was under constant surveillance.
“Well sure Angel-cakes so we just spy on him in
his home instead?” Lorne asks amazed.
Wesley clears his throat. “Well…Fred and I
injected him with a mystical tracker under my advice. I had uh…medical inject
Lorne and Gunn share uncomfortable looks while
Harmony just looks bored. Angel’s brow furrows as he realises something.
“Just where is
“Yeah, you two have been closer than white on
rice.” Gunn jokes, grinning as Wesley blushes faintly and looks vaguely
uncomfortable.
“I haven’t been spending much time with her of
late. The last time I saw her was about an hour after we leached off her power
to keep her mass from going critical and exploding.” Wes says stoically.
“That long ago?!” Angel growls. “Find out where she is, Wes, now.” Wesley jumps up. “Use that tracker thing to find out where
the hell that limey piece of crap is while you’re at it!” He yells after Wesley
as he hurries out of the conference room. He falls heavily into his chair,
muttering darkly as the phone rings and Harmony jumps up to answer it.
“Uhhh Angel?” Harmony says uncertainly. “That
was security. They sent a couple of their patrol guys over to check Spike’s
place…it’s…they said the whole place is trashed. All they found was his coat,
no sign of him. They said it looks like an army hit the place.”
“Call the security desk and have them pull the
tapes from the cameras monitoring Spike’s place!” Angel snaps. Whoever is
responsible for whatever has happened to Spike is going to wish they’d never
been born!
As Harmony is scampering for her desk, Wesley
rushes back in. “We’ve got something of a problem.” He says nervously.
“According to the tracker
Harmony hurries back in holding out a video
cassette. “Here’s the tape from the surveillance cameras in Spike’s place.” She
quickly hands it off to Angel and backs up several feet.
Angel takes it and sets it up to play, his fury
lending him a harsh edge that has his friends slowly but surely moving to put
space between him and themselves until they look like a family of mice cowering
in the corner from a hungry cat. He spares them a disgusted glance as he jerks
his chair around and uses the remote to search the tape.
Most of it is routine, the normal day to day
routine of a bachelor Vampire in the big city; in fact maybe it’s a bit too
boringly normal, Wesley thinks as he watches. He’s pretty sure that Spike must
be aware that Angel’s is having his apartment watched and he is probably
careful to only show what he wants to be seen. As the cameras capture an almost
pornographically perfect shot of Spike and a very nubile and flexible young
man, he’s positive that his supposition is correct. The blond Vampire always
did love to play to the cheap seats and the staging is just too perfect.
Angel mutters darkly and jams his thumb down on
the fast forward button and keeps it there, his muttering growing generally
louder until they’re able to make out the growled threats that have them all
shifting nervously in place. The sound of cracking plastic has them all surging
forward in time to watch the remains of the crushed remote raining to the
floor. On the TV screen a shocking image is unfolding.
They watch as Spike enters his apartment and go
about his usual routine of sliding out of his Duster and hanging it up before
heading to the refrigerator to grab a beer and sip it as he strips off his T-shirt
and flops onto his sofa. Rather than turning on the TV Spike reclines against
the arm and stretches out and picks up a book. The high-tech camera easily
records the title.
Wesley is surprised to see that it’s a rather
well known though very complex treatise on one of the lesser known Demon
species. While he had come to realise that there was much more to Spike than
the persona he presented to the world, the thought that he would actually take
the time to actively study such an esoteric concept is somewhat surprising. As
is the beautiful operatic aria that drifts from the stereo speakers as he
reaches over for the remote and presses several buttons.
Angel stifles a sigh as he recognises the opera
and remembers taking, well forcing if he was being honest, a then barely
fledged William to see it performed. The evening was a total disaster as the
infant Vampire challenged him at every turn. He despaired of ever finding a way
to balance the intelligent and well-bred young man he had been with the demon
he had become. It seems something of William did survive after all. He just
hides it very well.
The sound of splintering wood has them all
surging forward, even as Spike tosses the beer and book aside and leaps off the
couch and into a defensive crouch on the screen. They watch as
“You know you could have just knocked Blue.”
Spike says shaking his head as he rises from the crouch. “I know you’re new to
the whole not being dead thing but a locked door is generally there because the
person on the other side wants a little bloody privacy, your Highness.” They
hear Spike say.
Angel shakes his head at Spike’s antics. Only
he would, could, manage to both be
respectful and insultingly familiar at the same time and towards a GOD no less. Not to mention the one that
spent the better part of the week kicking his ass too. Though he has to admit
Spike was getting better and did manage to get in some good shots and he was
finding his stride. He’s glad that he put an end to the sessions though;
watching Spike visit the medical floor after every session with the alienated
Old One was becoming very difficult for him to overlook. Despite what he told
Wesley, he never intended to let
“Do not presume that I would need your permission
to enter where I please Half-Breed.” Illyria walks in as though she owns the
place, though since she once ruled over everything there was, she probably
feels like she does. “You are Childe to the Elder Vampire are you not?”
Spike braces his hands on his hips and his brow
quirks up in question. “If you mean Angel, I am the Childe of his Childe
Drusilla. He is my Grandsire…technically speaking.”
“You are of his line that is all that concerns
me half-breed.” Illyria strides towards Spike and grabs him around the throat
and lifts him off his feet, easily holding him aloft as she runs her eyes over
him. “You have value and you are not…displeasing…to the eye and you amuse me.”
“Glad to hear it Ducks but have you ever considered
television? It’s much more entertaining and all.” Spike croaks around the hand
constricting his throat. A pained expression twists his face as
“I did not give you leave to speak Half-Breed.”
She states imperiously.
“Then it’s just as well that I didn’t feel like
waiting for permission your Highness.” Spike says defiantly, increasing his
wiggling struggle to break her hold. He looks vaguely worried as his frantic
movements only seem to draw a smile, a rather surprising outcome.
“I am owed a debt Vampire by your Grandsire and
the one called Wesley for the life of the Dark One called Gunn. I have decided
that you will be an acceptable tribute to me. You will come with me now.”
Angel, Wesley, and Gunn all shift their weight
nervously at the reminder of how
“Angel is a lot of things Blue but he’s not a
slaver. He won’t give you a plaything to amuse yourself with, even if it’s me.
He may not like me much but the bleedin’ Poof still has his morals.”
“I have not asked him for his permission. I am
owed and you will be my price.” She runs her eyes over him with insulting
thoroughness. “You are not the finest pet I have had gifted to me but you will
do.”
Spike tries to break the hold around his throat
but he can’t until a vicious kick to
Angel howls as the next few minutes are a
dizzying frenzy of activity as Spike fights for his freedom and the apartment
is laid to waste. He tries his best but in the end the Old One is too strong
and Spike is systematically taken apart until he is an unconscious, bruised
mass of bleeding cuts and still limbs that Illyria throws over her shoulder
with a casual toss like a hunter with a trophy. He takes some satisfaction in that
To their stunned amazement she opens a portal,
though the strain to do so is obvious to them all, and disappears through it
carrying her unconscious prize. Wesley gasps as Angel turns stormy eyes on him
and slowly and deliberately stands from his chair.
“I thought you told me that she wouldn’t be
opening anymore portals.” Angel walks toward him, his stride is slow and
methodical and his voice is soft and calm. Wesley is afraid for his life. “Her
strength was reduced, isn’t that right? That is what you said isn’t it?”
“Well it seems she had strength enough for one
more and retained more of her power than I had estimated.” Wesley stammers.
“She could probably open the portal but it’s unlikely she’ll be able to open
another.” His voice trails off as he realises that he’s just informed Angel
that wherever
“So not making me feel better, Wes.” Angel says
bitingly. “Find Spike and figure out a way to get us there or to draw them back
here, understand?” Wes nods frantically and starts to scurry out of the
conference room. “Oh and Wes, find a way to kill her this time.” Angel says
quietly. “Your last solution was less than effective.” Wes is left with the
impression that he’d better get it right this time or it may be his head that’s
on the chopping block next and he all but runs from the room.
Gunn takes a deep breath and pats Angel on the
shoulder, a little tentative and awkward. “We’ll get Spike back Boss. Don’t you
worry?”
“Yes Gunn we will.” Angel’s voice and
expression say that anything else is unacceptable and to make this happen
before, soul or no soul, Angelus makes an appearance and then God help them
all.
Gunn swallows heavily and rushes to mobilise
the considerable resources of Wolfram & Hart in the search for Spike and
“Hello Buffy…” If there’s any chance that Buffy
can marshal the not inconsiderable wellspring of talent that the Scoobies represent
into finding Spike, he’s going to take it.
*
Chapter Two
It is a very haggard and rumpled looking Wesley
that trudges into Angel’s office with a very heavy gait. It has been almost a
month since
He enters quietly and takes a seat in the chair
beside Marcus Hamilton and remains silent. Angel’s behaviour has become
increasingly erratic and dark and no caution in dealing with him has proven to
be too great. He lowers his eyes as Angel’s black gaze moves over him and he
keeps his posture subservient and non-threatening. In the weeks since Spike’s
abduction, Angelus has been closer to the surface than ever and he plans to
avoid being the reason he takes control completely.
Angel turns his eyes on
“I believe I’ve found a means of locating
“How can Drogyn help us?” Angel asks sharply,
he has little patience for delays these days.
“The scriptures I’ve found state that the
Guardian has the power to find anyone that has visited the Well, be they in
this world or any other. It may be possible for him to find them and maybe even
give us the means to reach them. There isn’t much recorded about the actual
powers of the Guardian so I cannot say for sure. It is the best lead I can
offer right now however.
Angel doesn’t bother to answer, leaning over to
stab at the button of the intercom and ordering Harmony to have their fastest
jet ready immediately. “Get your things; we’re going to see Drogyn.” Angel
snaps; smiling as Wesley hurries off without a word of argument. He punches the
number of first Gunn’s office, and then Lorne’s office, giving them their
instructions placing them in charge in his absence. They both wish him good
luck and wisely don’t waste his time much beyond that. He strides for his
private elevator to attend to his own packing.
At last they may be on their way to finding
Spike and returning the captured Vampire home where he belongs. Angel smiles
grimly as he considers looking into having Spike permanently collared so no one
can steal him away again. The smile turns into a familiar grinning smirk as
Angelus is all for that plan. Since his apartment is trashed, he’ll just have
to share the Penthouse with him until they can arrange housing for him. He
reminds himself to be sure to tell Harmony to take her time with that he thinks
as he strides into his apartment to pack.
Within the hour they’re on their way to
TBC
In Part Two:
Angel and Wesley succeed; with Drogyn’s help;
in finding and reaching the dimension that