Chapter 6
Sea Change
Maybe Spike was unconscious from
the bang on the head or maybe exhaustion had overtaken his body and he slept a
natural sleep. Angelus couldn’t say, but as he lifted him from the car to their
new residence there was still no sign of life. Finally convinced that he hadn’t
been followed, Angelus curled up around the cold, lifeless body. He felt
dissatisfied. This wasn’t how he wanted things to be. Maybe it would all be
better once he’d broken Spike’s spirit, then he could train him into the sort
of companion he really wanted. Back to the way he used to be.
Tonight he’d lay another straw
on the camel’s back and see if it broke or held firm. Then it would be time for
reunions. He shivered to the thrill of the coming confrontation, one in which
he held every single ace. He slept the day away, his head whirling with plans
and pleasant dreams of blood and pain.
He sensed that Spike was waking
and whispered in his ear.
“Hey Spike good news. You’re
gonna be seeing your son soon.”
Spike didn’t move but his very
stillness hummed with tension. Angelus gave a chuckle.
“I’ve got so many plans… so much
that we can do together. Are you looking forward to playing with him? Then
there’s Buffy, we really need to get you dressed and looking like a Spike… I
figured a collar and a lead.”
He laughed at his own inane
humour and tousled the blonde hair.
“We’ll see how much control you
have left when he is here, and you hear the cries of your pink, squishy son and
Buffy’s pleas as she begs you to do something. You think you won by defying me?
You resisted my words but can you resist actions and consequences? Think on
that, Childe. I guess we’ll see how strong you really are.”
Spike shivered because he was afraid
that all he had were brave words and even those had now been spent.
oooo
She awoke and caught her breath.
It was dark and her ears were filled by an unremitting roar. Trying to get a
feel for her surroundings she moved a hand and hit a barrier, lifting a knee
that too encountered resistance and the hollow sound of wood. She fought for
her slayer training, the even controlled breathing, the focus. She kept losing
it and struggling with mounting panic. Her only thought was, ‘I’m in a coffin
again! Oh God! I’ve been buried alive!’
She was a slayer and she needed
every ounce of her training. For the sake of her child. She found herself
thinking comforting thoughts to him, as though she were soothing his terror.
The very act of thinking of him enabled her to control her own fears and she
began to focus. The noise was the roar of aircraft engines, she was on a plane.
Flying to Angelus. She soothed her baby’s alarm; it’s ok, baby, no harm, no
harm, I promise.
That calmed her enough to enable
her to meditate on her situation. She had been put in a coffin so that they
didn’t have to explain an unconscious woman. That meant her vampire captor was
probably nearby. Had she woken too soon? Had he overestimated the effect of the
drug? Maybe he’d not taken into account her slayer recovery. This might be the
only chance she would ever have. She pushed tentatively on the lid to get a
feel for its placement. Then keeping her wrist straight and strong, she thrust
up with all the strength and leverage that the space in the coffin would allow.
The wood creaked but did not bend. Again. And again. Until eventually she burst
through, ripping a shard of wood from the splintered lid and leaping to a
fighting stance. Her eyes were accustomed to the dark and she could see that
she was in the hold of the plane, with luggage stacked all around. Another
coffin lay next to hers. It was empty.
“He told me that his childe
killed two slayers.”
The disembodied voice echoed
around the hold and sent chills up her arms. She squinted into the darkness,
looking for a shadow within the shadows.
“He told me I was too stupid and
too slow. That I was nothing.”
Buffy slowly turned. She was
beginning to get a position from the voice.
“But he was wrong. I could kill
you. Look at you. You’re nothing but a girl. A heavy, labouring, cow of a
girl.”
He was moving closer.
“He wanted you alive? Why was
that, I wonder? Was he afraid to kill you?”
Come on, just a bit closer.
Tempt him in.
“Please, don’t kill me.” She
begged, in her terrified little girl voice.
“He told me that slayer blood
was the tastiest thing in the world, his childe had loved it. He said his
childe was clever and cunning and vicious. I’m not even a moon-shadow of him.
Not fit to be his slave. He’s wrong. I will kill a slayer, even if he is too afraid
to attempt it himself. He will look upon me with pride. He will see me and
accept me. He will call me childe.”
“You’re right.” Buffy said.
The vampire was surprised to
find her so close.
“You’re not even a moon-shadow
of him.”
He had no idea how she managed
to be in front of him. He could only stare in disbelief at the sliver of wood
that pierced through to his heart.
She sank to her haunches and
bowed her head as ash drifted over her.
“I’m sorry, baby.” She gasped.
“Sorry for bringing you to this terrible world.”
In the diving roll that had
brought her within striking distance of the vampire her waters had broken. She
used her slayer training to concentrate on her breathing, calming her panic.
But she desperately wanted Giles, Spike, Angel or
The hold was pressurised but it
was freezing. She found a large suitcase and knocked of the flimsy padlock.
Searching through she found a man’s fleece and a coat. She pulled on the
fleece, climbed into the suitcase and tucked the coat around her like a
blanket, pulling it over her head to keep in her body heat. There she waited,
counting the time between contractions and breathing deeply.
As the plane came into land she
considered her options. She broke up her coffin and hid the wood in the nooks
and crevices of the hold and then she prepared the other coffin. When she was
ready she closed the lid tight.
oooo
Angel considered going to the
airport to collect them himself but everything was too rushed and he had things
to prepare. He sent a couple of minions, all they had to do was pick up a
couple of coffins, one of them containing a slayer. Jeez, how hard could that
be?
Elle and Smith headed out to the
airport looking remarkably respectable, dressed in sombre black. They reported
to customs, where they produced the necessary paperwork and explained that they
were here to collect two coffins. The customs man disappeared and was replaced
by another.
“I’m sorry, Sir, Ma’am, but it
appears that only one coffin has arrived.”
“Let me see that.” Smith
snatched the bit of paper out of his hand. “It says quite clearly that two
coffins were shipped. So where the fuck are they?”
The other man was tense but since
he was absolutely certain that it wasn’t his fault he answered calmly enough.
“I understand what it says, Sir.
But the fact is, there has been a terrible mistake and there was only one on
board.”
“A mistake! There’s a family
waiting to grieve over that body. How the frigging hell do you lose a coffin?”
“I understand your frustration…”
“Excuse my colleague’s
rudeness.” Elle gave a small, tight smile of apology. “But you understand you
are placing us, personally, in a very awkward position.”
“I do understand Ma’am and I can
only offer my apologies.”
Smith had regained control of
his temper.
“Could we see the one that did
arrive?”
“It’s here if you’d care to come
with me.”
“And when you trace the other
one…”
“We’re investigating and we’ll
let you know as soon as we discover its whereabouts.”
The customs man shifted
uncomfortably.
“Uh, the problem is we’re going
to have to open the casket. The shipping note, which should be attached, must
have become dislodged. We’re not sure which… body we have. I’m very sorry for
this.”
Smith and Elle looked at each
other and then nodded their agreement. The question was plaguing them and they
were anxious to find out who they had. If it was the minion he’d die a thousand
deaths for this incompetence.
“I’ll need you to sign to say
that you gave your consent and that you witnessed the opening of the casket.”
The coffin was before them. Elle
scented the air. The scent was mixed and inconclusive. As the lid was slowly
unscrewed and raised, they both prepared themselves for whatever might be
inside. They took up a fighting stance in the expectation of confronting a very
irate and pregnant slayer. The casket lid lifted and their muscles tightened in
readiness.
“What the hell…?” The customs
man asked.
They relaxed their stance and
stared in disbelief.
“Good fucking question. And do
you know? I am tired of this little charade and jeez, you know what else? I’m
tired of you and your rank ineptitude.” Smith said.
Elle nodded her agreement.
Angelus would boil them alive for this and they weren’t going to suffer alone.
The man began to stutter an
angry, red-faced protest, followed by a rising screech, stilled by fangs that
tore into his throat and sliced through vocal cords. Smith and Elle were
frustrated and more than a little irritated but the warm blood soothed them
somewhat.
They stared at the coffin,
packed with clothes and shoes as though it were merely a suitcase.
“I wish that minion were still
alive. He might have distracted the Master’s attention from us.” Elle growled.
They lowered the customs man
into the coffin, settling him amongst the clothes and then wheeled the body out
to the waiting van. They worked silently and efficiently. They might be young
but they were old enough to know what sort of welcome to expect when they
returned. They daren’t even run. Angelus had a long memory and a damned long
arm. They only had to look at his treatment of the blonde vampire for an object
lesson in what happened to those that displeased him
oooo
Buffy was once again in an
enclosed space. The large suitcase was slung on to the conveyer belt, out of
the plane and down on to the motorised baggage trolley. It was standing
upright, which unfortunately meant she was standing on her head. She wriggled
herself around and then stopped as another contraction hit. Ok, they were
getting close she needed to get out now before she entered the terminal. She
couldn’t go through customs, the x-ray would reveal her. In desperation she
kicked out and heard the material rip but there was further resistance. As she
feared, her case was in the middle of the trolley. She kicked again and could
feel the whole pile rock. Her legs were now free and she kicked out through the
ripped side, dislodging bags that were wedging her in. The baggage handler
hadn’t noticed his loss as a case tumbled to the ground. She pushed out against
another case so that there was now enough room for her to wriggle out of her
confined position. She braced herself grabbed a soft sided bag to help cushion
her fall and then she jumped, protecting her stomach as best she could.
She thought about nothing except
what she had to do next. Make it to the perimeter fence. Her stomach pulled
heavily on her spine, pressing down uncomfortably on her pelvis and she put a
hand underneath her distended stomach, supporting it as best as she could.
Still clutching the bag she’d taken, she began to stretch her stride, heading
to the right of the main terminal. Normally it would have been an easy task for
her with her slayer stamina but she was burdensome and slow, her breath came in
gasps. When she finally made the perimeter fence she sank down in exhaustion
and lay helpless as the next contraction took her.
She had to get herself up again
and not give in, not after making it so far, but the pain and the tiredness were
sapping her strength. The fence was razor edged and was covered in voltage
signs. Under or over or through, she considered the possibilities. There was no
way she could jump it given her current condition. So under or through? She
began a quick search of the bag she had taken, a spade or a pair of wire
cutters would swing her decision one way or another. She discovered some
dollars, a metal nail file, nail cutters, nail scissors… Oh God. Not good,
Buff. Ok think. Rubber souled boots and thickly insulted ski gloves maybe… but
no, she couldn’t climb in those. What did she know about electricity? It needed
to be earthed. Birds on electrical wires don’t get fried because they have no
contact with the earth. If she jumped on to it, maybe she could climb to the top...
stop thinking and do it. Oh! After this contraction. She sat for a while and
curled up around the pain.
As soon as the contraction
passed she took the money and emptied the bag, opening it fully and hooking the
handle around her wrist. Then she nervously took a jump, landing halfway up the
fence. She moved carefully but as quickly as her weight would allow. She was
clumsy and ungainly but managed to reach the top, where she slung the open bag
over the razor wire. Awkwardly she pulled herself over the top, slithering over
the bag, which protected her from the barbed edging and finally found herself
hanging down the other side. She finished the breath she’d been holding and
with some relief lowered herself and jumped to the ground, stumbling slightly
before recovering her balance.
Making her way to the main
terminal exit, another contraction hit but she was nearly there, the bright
lights announced
“A maternity hospital please.
Can you make it quick? I think the baby is about to arrive.”
“Oh, lady, why d’yer have to
choose my cab?” The driver groaned as he put his foot to the floor and radioed
the office to warn the maternity hospital of an incoming patient.
oooo
Wesley and the slayers gloomily
awaited their flight back to
“Yes.”
…
“Thank God, for that!”
…
“I agree.”
…
“Yes. Goodbye.”
He turned towards a row of
inquisitive faces.
“That was Giles. He’s received a
message on the Council’s emergency number. Buffy has escaped. She’s currently
at the
“Oh my God!” Andrew whispered.
“Spike is going to have a baby.”
“I believe it’s Buffy who is
doing the bulk of the work, but essentially you’re correct.”
There was awed silence.
“This development throws a
completely different complexion on everything.”
“Did the revered council leader
have any instructions for us?” Andrew asked.
“He’s travelling here to be with
Buffy and to oversee the situation. I’m going to return and continue working on
finding Spike and Angelus. We believe they have left the city and this is given
even more credibility by the fact that now he has lost Buffy, he can have no
further reason to linger here. However, there is a small chance he might
attempt to track her down. He is notoriously persistent in pursuit of his prey.
Therefore, four slayers are to remain here and guard Buffy and the child.
Andrew, Giles is entrusting you with her safety until he reaches her.
Andrew put a hand to his heart.
“I swear. I shall protect the
Last Slayer and her offspring with my own life if necessary.”
“Yes, well. Let’s hope that
doesn’t become necessary.”
oooo
Giles felt as if he’d spent the
last week sitting in a cramped aeroplane and he’d crossed so many time zones he
hardly knew if it was yesterday or tomorrow. He’d been running on adrenaline
and anger for so long, but with the news that Buffy was safe and being guarded,
his body had given in and he’d finally managed a few hours sleep, grateful that
his emotions had finally roller-coastered themselves out.
Yawning widely he felt for his
glasses, just as the request was made for all passengers to fasten their
seatbelts. He was getting far too old for this. They were coming in to land and
he swore this would be his last flight for a while. He’d drive back to
It felt good to be back in the
States, everything looked so bright and clean compared to
He arrived at the hospital and
was directed to her birthing suite. He stopped and rested his forehead lightly
on the door, trying to compose himself before he entered and then gently opened
the door, knocking lightly as he did so.
“Buffy.”
“Giles.”
He looked at her. Her hair was
bedraggled and her eyes ringed with black.
In two steps he was by her
bedside and she threw an arm around his neck.
“Dear girl. My dear girl. Thank
God you’re alright.”
“Oh Giles! I’m so glad you’re
here. “
“Of course I’m here. Where else
would I be?”
“Look.” Her voice was soft and
full of wonder “I have a son and he’s beautiful.”
Giles drew back and looked at
the bundle she held in her other arm.
“He’s perfect. I’m so happy for
you, Buffy.”
“An addition to our family.”
“My grandson?” Giles asked with
a slight smile.
“I’d like that.” She replied,
blinking back tears .
“I’ll always be there. For you
and the child.”
The birth had been hard and the
stress and trauma had taken its toll. She’d lost blood and was now on a drip,
but as Giles wrapped his arms around her, she felt safe within that protective
circle and let her eyes drift shut.
Andrew, Chris and Erica stepped
outside to afford them some privacy. Andrew wiped a tear away and sniffed.
“I’m not crying.” He told the
girls defensively. “I think I got some dust or something in my eye. Or maybe a
bit of lint. There’s always lint floating around in hospitals, all the
bandaging they do. Though not so much in maternity hospital, I guess. Maybe
it’s…”
“Andrew?”
“Yes, Erica?”
“Sometimes the situation demands
that a real man sheds a tear. I’d guess it adds about 2 percent to their
manliness quotient.”
“Really? And is this that type
of situation?”
“Mr Giles was crying and he’s
always manly.”
“Yes, he is isn’t he? Well I’ll
admit there might have been a glint of manly tears.”
“So what’s your current
percentage?”
“Well, I have to admit, a
girlish scream escaped me about a month ago, which set me back a little.
However, with today’s incident and my general command of the situation over the
last few weeks I would put myself as high as 49, which is a 96 increase in
manliness.”
“You started at 25? Hey, in no
time at all you’ll be up to Spike and Angel levels.”
“Really. So… what would you
estimate them at?”
“Hmm. What do you think, Chris?”
“Well Angel has to be 100. But
Spike… maybe only 99.”
“You think? I see where you’re
coming from but it’s hardly his fault.”
“What?” Andrew asked anxiously.
“I don’t understand why Spike has lost a percent.”
“Half a percent for those
gorgeous cheekbones.” Erica explained.
“And half a percent for his
slender build.”
Andrew thought for a second.
“I get that, but shouldn’t he
get an extra point for his deep growly voice that just sends shivers right
through you?”
The girls kept their faces
appropriately solemn.
“Good point, perhaps we’ll have
to recalibrate the scale to take that into account.”
Andrew nodded in satisfaction.
It was nice when the girls took his views and opinions seriously.
oooo
Spike awoke.
He realised they couldn’t have
travelled far, the scents and the sounds remained unchanged. But what did it
matter? Here he was trapped in yet another sodding basement, impotent, his
limbs were chained and fettered, and he was unable to protect the ones he
loved. Buffy, his baby… Angel. He could have cried a river at the
predictability of the coming night, as inevitable as the tides.
Haunted by the ghost of the weak
fledging he had once been and the physical reality of his fearsome sire, who
was watching every move, every flicker of emotion. He was that fledgling again,
with all the helplessness, the dependency on the whims of his sire and the
sense of being completely alone.
Which was bloody ridiculous,
when he thought about it, even now Wesley and Fred would be searching for him.
The slayers would be gearing up the way they’d been taught and he wasn’t a weak
little fledging but a master vampire. They’d found him once, they would do it
again. Or Angelus would eventually slip up, present him with some opportunity.
If he could just feed, build up some strength, get free, seize a chance...
Angel saw the light of hope
sparking in Spike’s eyes and knew it was time for yet another straw.
“By the way I forgot to say I
found this.”
He held in his hands the
tracking device. Spike gave no reaction as it was slowly and deliberately
ground to dust and scattered at his feet.
“Not that it matters, I’ve had
the place protected against detection. I guess it’s the symbolism that I love
so much. Your symbol of hope, crushed and gone and scattered. I can’t help it.
I love the dramatic gestures.”
“Yeah, you have a real talent
for them. You’re a regular sodding drama queen.”
“Come on, Spike. Don’t be like
that, just as we were starting to get on so well together.”
Unknown to either of them the
dramatic gesture was a bad mistake. It triggered the innovation developed by
Wesley and Fred, a failsafe, in case all else went wrong. It sent out a flare
strong enough to break through the protective barriers and lit up the location
like a beacon. Spike hadn’t been informed, for fear that if the bond was in place, the
older vampire would read a flash of hope, just as Spike’s final hope was
supposedly destroyed.
Spike’s posture spoke of defeat.
There was no cavalry charging to his rescue. He was alone. Alone with his pain
and his doubt; he felt close to despair. Heavy in heart and limb, all strength
leaking from his bones. Maybe the strength to lift his head but why would he
want to? Not sad, not happy. Not anything. Behold this creature. Behold
nothing.
Tomorrow maybe he would rise
again and pretend to live. Celebrate his life as a testament to the genius of
Einstein, proving yet again the incontrovertible relationship between mass and
time, as he was crushed by the weight of his years, Tomorrow he would rise and
find a thousand reasons to rejoice in life. Tomorrow he would fight again for
Buffy’s sake and for the baby. But now, at this moment, he wished to lay down
this burden. Just for a minute he wanted to let it go. Just for a minute he
wished to lay down his head and rest and not rise again tomorrow.
The dark figure lifted up the
head and wondered how he could have imagined rainy days or blue skies in those
eyes. All he could see were icescapes. What had once been as sharp and bright
as newly worked flint had been crushed and ground, pulverised moraine, and he,
Angelus, was the mighty glacier, cold, heavy and lifeless. He tried to look
with pride on his work but somehow the rules of the game had changed without
him noticing and just as he was about to crow in triumph he realised he’d won a
game but lost an entire world.
He grinned and tried to laugh;
it cracked and broke unnaturally in the stillness. What was wrong? What was
this feeling? Shame? Angelus knew no shame, so instead he named it regret. He
regretted the light that had faded from those eyes. He acknowledged his fatal
mistake; he’d forgotten where he ended and Angel began. He’d forgotten the
place where they met and briefly entwined, one indistinguishable from the
other, the place where wounds to the soul were wounds to the demon. Spike was their
meeting point, his dead body vibrating with a life force, which overflowed and
brought to life all who were near him. Even Buffy. Even Angelus. He’d thought
that by breaking him he could twist Spike to his will. Instead he found he’d
broken all the things he cherished most in his childe: his life, his humour,
his defiance.
Angelus, so cunning in reading
and manipulating the emotions that surrounded him and so innocent of his own,
frowned and wondered how to mend his boy. He didn’t know how to start, he only
knew how to break and ruin. Angel was the one who picked up the pieces he left
behind, love and guilt driving him to attempt to mend, carefully filling the
cracks and making everything anew. Or his boy, always following in his wake,
sweeping up his debris and patching up his playthings – Drusilla and Buffy –
wreckage he’d left behind.
Now who was left to mend and
heal?
“Spike? Childe…little one?”
There was no answer. He realised
that he couldn’t rebuild this broken thing, instead it was up to Spike to win
back any last vestiges of sanity. Spike needed to fight, needed to prevail and
once again roar his power to the world.
Angelus sat back and
contemplated the still figure and calculated how much he was willing to lose to
bring his childe to life.
oooo
“The beacon’s been triggered.
We’ve finally got it!” Fred called.
“I’ve got a fix on it.” Wesley
replied. His voice was coloured with excitement and hope. “Oh my God! We must
call Giles and let him know.”
“Why? Where is Angelus now?”
“He’s still in
Giles picked up the call from
the hospital reception and then sat silently in the lobby. Andrew approached
tentatively.
“Mr Giles?”
“Hmmm? Oh, I’m sorry, I was
thinking.”
“Has there been a new
development? It’s just your face. You look kinda pensive.”
“The tracer has been destroyed.”
“So we know where they are?” A smile
lit up the young man’s face.
“Yes. He’s still here, in
“I’ll get the slayers. We’ll
move quickly and mount a surprise attack.”
“No, you are not to hunt
Angelus. We stay here and guard Buffy.”
Andrew’s face fell but his own
distress changed to a focus that he’d rarely attained before. He had to help
Spike and he couldn’t allow himself to give in to nervous mumblings or
talkative hysteria that so often overwhelmed him and underwhelmed those around
him.
“Mr Giles, we need to find them.
Who knows how much longer he’ll keep Spike alive? Or what will be left of him
when we do find him. The slayers will want to…”
“The slayers will do as they’re
damned well told! Angelus will come for Buffy and the baby, and we have too few
resources to allow us to cover both the nest and the hospital. The logical
choice is that we remain here and capture Angelus when he attempts to take
Buffy or the child.”
“But… he’s tricky. Supposing he
has some cunning, nefarious plan…”
“We have four slayers. Each of
them would stand a good chance against Angelus, over the past months they’ve
improved beyond recognition and they’re even more determined than you are to
get Spike and Angel back.”
“Mr Giles, if I may speak
frankly? I feel that I should point out, your view of the situation is
distorted by your fatherly love for the Last Slayer…”
Giles voice was emotionless but
he could almost feel himself shaking with anger.
“Mr Tucker, if I may speak
frankly?” He asked coldly.
Andrew gave a nervous nod.
“I feel that I should
point out, your view of the situation is distorted by your far from brotherly
love of the vampire.”
Andrew froze to the spot and his
face flushed red as he stared at Giles, his mouth opening and closing.
“I…” he cleared his throat and looked
Giles in the eye, “I’ve never tried to hide it or deny. He died, saving my life
and even if I’m labelled an idiot for my devotion, he has it nonetheless.”
“An extra 1% manliness for the
boy.” Chris whispered.
Giles suddenly felt
uncomfortably as though he were in the wrong.
“I apologise. I didn’t mean it
as an accusation or as something shameful. Love in all its form brightens this
sad world. You’re right, I am biased, but I do assure you that in this
particular situation I truly believe that if we wait here then Angelus will
come to us.”
Andrew gave a dignified nod.
“I too apologise. Our duty
should be to the Last Slayer and her newborn.”
oooo
Elle and Smith returned
nervously and found Angelus sitting on the stairs, obviously deep in thought.
Angelus eyed the coffin. He
could smell recent death and fresh blood.
“What the frigging hell is
this?”
“When it was opened we found it
filled with clothes, Master.”
“The slayer?”
“There was no sign of her.”
Angelus rose and strode towards
them, ripping off the coffin lid to reveal the body inside.
“What…?”
“The customs man. He was an
idiot.”
“We were discreet, Master. There
were no cameras and no witnesses.”
Angelus scented something beyond
the blood and death. He picked up a fleece and held it to his nostrils. It
smelt of Buffy and pain and… birthing waters.
“Master?”
“Elle, call the maternity
hospitals. Say your name is Dawn Summers and you’re trying to find out how your
sister Buffy is doing. I want to know where she is. You never know, there’s
even a chance that you might live through this debacle.”
She ran off to obey.
“What do you want me to do,
Master?” Smith asked trying to ingratiate himself back into Angelus’ good
graces.
“You can go out and buy some
blood. Pigs, cows, frigging stoat, I don’t care as long as it’s not human.”
“You want me to buy
blood?”
Now the master was truly insane.
What was the point of buying inferior blood when the real stuff was walking
around on tap? He caught a glimpse of the lowering brow and decided not to
question further.
“Yes, Master.”
Then he too scurried away,
leaving Angelus alone with his thoughts.
This was such a frigging mess.
And he could hardly believe what
he was considering. He gathered some blankets and a bowl of hot water and released
Spike from his bonds. He sat with the blonde head resting in his lap and began
to gently wash him. The bruises and the cuts brought him no delight. If anyone
else had inflicted such wounds upon his childe he would have roasted them
slowly, years of torture would not have satisfied him. It was finally occurring
to him that it had all been in vain. The Spike he’d wanted had been there all
the time, but never his. He’d been made for Angel. No matter what he did, this
childe would never be his. This world would never be his. Like the time of the
Old Ones, maybe the time of Angelus had passed.
He bit a finger and began
rubbing his blood into the wounds, watching as cuts disappeared and skin became
whole. Once he had healed Spike’s body he would consider his mind. He’d broken
many people. Would Spike join their ranks? Or just this one time would he use
his talent to mend. Angelus was undecided which direction to go, should he make
or break?
He heard Smith return, covered
Spike with blankets and returned upstairs. Elle was waiting for him with her
good news.
“I’ve found her! She’s at the
He nodded. “Try to get a plan of
the hospital and a location on that birthing suite. I think we should go visit
the proud Mom this evening.”
He took a couple of bottles of
blood from Smith and returned to Spike.
“Frigging pig’s blood! It
stinks.” He complained, as he barged into the basement, waking Spike with his
loud tones and noisy entrance. “And if you refuse it, after all the hassle of
getting hold of the stuff, I’ll shove it down your throat.”
The figure under the blankets
just curled deeper into them. Jeez, he was so irritating. Some people just
didn’t want to be helped.
He reached under the blanket,
grabbed a handful of hair and tipped Spike’s head back.
“Well? You gonna drink or am I
gonna force it down?”
Blue eyes slid away from his
glare and a white hand snuck out and took one of the bottles. Angelus released
him and moved out of his sight, listening to the gulping sounds. This was the
first he’d drunk since the bloodplay in the cellar, when Angelus had threatened
Buffy and his childe.
A few minutes later the emptied
bottle rolled across the floor.
“My blood would be better for
you.”
“Sod off.”
Angelus smiled slightly. That
was more like it. He made a small gouge in his wrist and placed it under
Spike’s nose, hoping the rich aroma would cast its spell. This time Spike did
not succumb, not even when the blood was smeared on to his lips.
“Come on Spikey. It’s not over
yet, we’ve more games to play.”
No reply.
Angelus picked up the empty
bottle and let his own blood fill it. He placed it within Spike’s eye-line.
“I’m giving you a sporting
chance and bringing you back to full strength, so wake up and smell the
frigging corpses. I might not be feeling so generous later.”
He slammed out of the room but
then listened outside the door. He heard the clink of the refilled bottle. The
boy was beginning to think about fighting again. Jeez, this was such a bad
idea. But eventually Willow would return and shoehorn that soul back in. Better
to arrange it on his own terms.
Now that he’d worked out that
his motive was wholly selfish he could relax again. He whistled as he
considered the work to be carried out before his guest arrived. Make the cellar
a bit more homey and feminine. Maybe fur covered manacles would do the trick?