Chapter 10
Deth continues to reside at Wolfram and Hart in her bizarrely floral accommodations. Despite Angel’s reservations, Spike manages to talk his way into spending most nights with her. Angel refuses, however, to exchange the single bed for something more comfortable for two. A way to express his continued frustration, disapproval and perhaps exert a smidge of control over the situation. They make do.
Deth continues to be tense about her confinement. She knows in her gut that her fate will be decided here—by whom she’s not so sure. Spike continues to press her to stay—not overtly, but with unspoken gestures to make her feel more at home. She worries that this is a sign of his lingering distrust. Or worse yet, of fear. She no longer asks him to take her away.
Scene 1
Wesley’s office. Deth is helping Wesley go through texts, looking for clues about this demon religion that Deth appears to be a part of. In an attempt to keep a tight reign on the information they discover, they’ve recruited Gunn to help out instead of the usual staff assistants from the firm’s library. Even Harmony is there, helping to organize the texts into piles and handling food and drink orders. They don’t really expect to find much. Mostly, Deth and Wesley are discussing possibilities—just as they used to do before the pregnancy when they were dealing with some unknown phenomenon or prophesy. The mood is somewhat tense, though Deth and Wes are both enjoying the research and discussion on some level, able to forget for the moment the intimacy of the situation. We come in the middle of a conversation, as they are all flipping through books...
Deth: “A magic word? Seriously?”
Wesley: “That’s what it said. Well, wrote.”
Gunn: “Did you try ‘please’? Just on the off chance, you know. Moms’ gotta get that from somewhere.”
This elicits a “look” from Wesley.
Wesley: “It suggested I ask you for it.”
Deth: [shrugging, almost a smile] “I would have given ‘please’ a try. [beat, more serious] It’s not ‘please’.”
Wesley: “So you know what it is?”
Deth: “Nope. Just that’s it’s not ‘please.’”
Wesley: “Perhaps it will come to you.”
Deth: “That’s why we’re here.”
Gunn: “So should I, like, read stuff aloud if I find something good?”
Wesley: “That’s the idea.”
A few minutes of silence.
Gunn: “Can you give me some key words or something? I’m not even sure if it’s a needle we’re looking for, you know?”
Wesley: [sigh, as if they hadn’t already covered this] “Apocalypse, end-of-the-world, Armageddon, end-of-days.”
This gets a pointed look and frown from Gunn to Wes.
Deth: [frowning, deciding to add] “Creation myths, genesis, new era, rebirth, unification.”
This has obviously been a point of contention—something they’ve been discussing.
Gunn: [uncomfortable] “Yeah, that narrows it down.”
A few more moments pass. Deth is obviously contemplating something.
Deth: “Why involve humans at all? [Wes looks up from his book with a questioning look] I mean, if it’s all about ending the world or some kind of demon, evil revolution, why bring a human into it?”
Wesley: [Thinking about it for a moment, then in classic Wesley detached voice] “Perhaps it’s all about the timing. A human girl allowing herself to be impregnated by a demon could be a sign of sufficient moral decay to make such a revolution likely to succeed.”
Deth’s mouth visibly drops open in shocked amazement. Harmony gasps loudly, covering her mouth. Gunn’s eyes widen, as he mutters in his best black girl voice:
Gunn: “No you d’’’n’t.”
Without skipping a beat, Deth casually looks back down at her book and says;
Deth: “I have an idea, Wesley. Why don’t you take your sexist woman-blaming garden-of-Eden bullshit and shove it up your white male protestant ass. [shaking her head] Moral decay.”
Wesley: [He can’t help but smile slightly—it’s the most emotion he’s see out of Deth] “It was just a suggestion.”
Gunn: “Don’t go there, man.”
Deth: “I’m just saying that one culture’s Armageddon is another’s creation story.”
Wesley: “We’ve already got our fair share of creation myths, so where does that leave humans on that continuum?”
Gunn: “Pizza. Anyone feel like pizza?”
End scene.
**
Scene 2: Later that night, in Deth’s room.
A nurse is getting ready to give Deth her nightly pint of blood. Spike is sitting at the end of the bed, flipping through the channels on the tv, getting frustrated.
Spike: “You’d think the bastard could have splurged for cable. [shaking his head] It’s all pants.”
Neither one of them are paying much attention to the nurse, who is fumbling a bit. She starts the flow of blood before inserting the needle fully into Deth’s catheter—it comes loose immediately and a small stream of blood escapes before the nurse puts the clamp back on the tube. She apologizes and quickly wipes up the blood and begins to re-insert the needle. She’s about to unclamp the tube to start the flow.
Spike turns his head to the side—toward the nurse. Something is wrong. He reaches over and yanks the tube, dislodging the needle once again. He grab’s the nurse’s hand roughly and tosses her away from the bed onto the floor. The needle is now freely streaming blood over the white sheets on the bed.
Spike: [incensed] “S’not right. Something...[He sniffs the blood coloring the sheet—it smells different from her.] It’s the wrong type.”
Deth: “What?”
Spike: “Check the bag.”
Deth has a look at the bag—she scans it until she finds the type listed on the fine print—AB positive. She’s O negative.
Deth: “Shit.”
Spike: [upset/angry] “Could’ve killed you.”
The nurse is just recovering from being tossed onto the floor. Spike rushes over to her and grabs her by the neck, threateningly.
Nurse: [JUST able to speak, obviously scared] “I’m sorry. I forgot to check the bag. It was in with all of the others. I didn’t think....”
In a moment, the security guard from outside bursts through the door. He tries to get Spike to release the nurse—Spike says he won’t until Angel gets there. At first the guard protests, but then proceeds to place the call. Angel arrives a few moments later. Spike explains what happened, the security guard takes the nurse away. Deth sits on the edge of the bed, looking a bit freaked. Spike pulls Angel aside, out of Deth’s earshot. While they talk, Deth pulls the bloodsoaked sheet from the bed, rolls it into a ball and tosses it in the corner. She lies down on the bare mattress.
Angel: “It could have been mistake.”
Spike: “And you could’ve been an alter boy. It wasn’t.”
Angel: “We’ll change the medical staff. Again.”
Spike: “That’s great, but what about the others?”
Angel: “What others?”
Spike: “The other attempts on her life—there’s been, what, three so far? Four if you count the ice cream truck incident.”
Angel: “How’d you know about that?”
Spike: “Don’t act so surprised. I do more than faff about, drinking and watching tv while I’m here. Think of me as your own personal Internal Affairs department. Luckily, none of them have made it through the door...”
Angel: “Luck has nothing to do with it. We’ve got it covered, Spike.”
Spike: “Come on. You don’t even have control over your own staff. It’s only a matter of time.”
Angel: [frustrated] “You think it’s going to be any better on the outside? Four averted attacks in as many weeks is peanuts. She’s safer here than she would be anywhere else. You know that as well as I do.”
Spike: [not hiding his skepticism very well] “Yeah, sure.”
Angel: [sympathetic] “You can’t protect her, Spike. I know you want to, but there’s no way you could do it on your own and take care of her, too. [beat] And you can’t change the reality of the situation.”
Spike: “What reality is that, then?”
Angel: [frowning, not liking the reality himself] “Our job isn’t just to protect her. If we can prevent an apocalypse...”
Spike: [interrupting] “Skip the speech, Spock. I get it.”
Angel: “We’re on the same side, here.”
Spike: “Just like the good ol’ days, yeah?”
In truth, they’ve never been on the same side before. Not exactly. Both know this and accept the complexity hidden beneath that kind of statement.
End scene
**
Scene 3: Angel’s office, sometime later.
Angel is alone. He hits the intercom to Harmony’s desk.
Angel: “Any luck finding Hamilton?”
Hamilton: “Careful what you wish for.”
Angel looks up to find Hamilton standing at other end of his office, casually lifting the blind on one of the windows to have a peek outside. He’s dressed as usual in his perfectly pressed suit.
Harmony: “Uh, isn’t that...”
Before she finishes, Angel remembers to take his finger off the intercom button. He doesn’t skip a beat at Hamilton’s sudden appearance.
Angel: “Already with the threats. No “Hi, how’ve ya’ been, how ‘bout a cup of coffee.””
Hamilton: “Not a threat. Just seemed to fit. Now that you mention it, coffee sounds scrumptious.”
Angel: “Too bad. [awkward pause.] Well?”
Hamilton: “Well what?”
Angel: [sight of frustration] “Oh, I don’t know. Thoughts on our little guest living upstairs. Rumor has it, that vampire baby of hers may be of some significance.”
Hamilton: “You’re the boss.”
Angel: “And?”
Hamilton: “And, nothing. You’re the boss. It’s your call.”
Angel: “Why the sudden vote of confidence?”
Hamilton: “Confidence has nothing to do with it. The senior partners are merely...indifferent.”
Angel: [skeptical] “Indifferent. To the bringer of the next apocalypse.”
Hamilton: [shrugs] “They’ve got other things to hold their attention.”
Angel is detecting a hint of uncertainty in Hamilton’s demeanor. It’s subtle, but there’s definitely something tentative in his words.
Angel: “I have a hard time believing that.”
Hamilton: [shaking his head] “You just don’t have the balls to make the decision yourself. Pathetic, really. You want me to tell you to kill her? Fine, kill her. But I’d do it before the little tyke is born if I were you. Even assuming you’ve taken the necessary precaution of securing the ring of Amarrah, things will likely be a bit more complicated if you wait. Or don’t. It’s your mistake to make, not ours.”
Angel: [aha] “Mistake. So you don’t know for sure what the senior partners want—or maybe they don’t know.”
Hamilton: “It’s of little concern.”
Angel: “You’re lying.”
Hamilton: “Yep, I think I’m going to go to Starbucks—there’s a double espresso with my name on it.”
Angel: “You’re not going anywhere.”
Hamilton: [laughing] “That’s cute.”
He turns to go, but just as he takes his first steps toward the door, the lights go out. There’s a scuffle and some grunting, clanking and muffled protestations. The lights come on and suddenly everyone is in the room—Gunn, Wesley, Illyria. Hamilton has been stuffed inside a box, similar to the one used to contain Pavayne. There is a sock stuffed in his mouth—he’s struggling, but he obviously can’t move.
Illyria: “That was less than amusing. His power is diminished.”
Looking bored, she strolls out of the room.
Wes and Gunn look a bit more disheveled and out of breath.
Angel: “Good work.”
Gunn: “Anytime—I miss being the muscle. Or at least a contributing muscle.”
Angel walks over to Hamilton and with a superior grin, starts to pull the sock out of his mouth. He stops and says:
Angel: “I’m glad you think we’re cute. Just to keep you up to speed, you’re in a stasis box—similar to the one we constructed to contain a super-creep named Pavayne a while back. We can pretty much keep you there as long as we want. Forever, in fact. You are immortal, right? Ah, that’s great. My personal idea is to toss you into the pacific—let you hang out at the bottom of the sea for a few hundred years. It’s a lovely place to spend the summer, really. Therapeutic. Got the idea from an old friend.”
He pulls the sock out of Hamilton’s mouth.
Hamilton: “The senior partners will never let you get away with this. You have no idea how over-your-heads you are.”
Angel: “Yeah, I’m bettin’ you haven’t heard from them lately—I’d go as far to say they don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to you right now—wouldn’t even notice. That’s why you’ve been laying low.”
Hamilton: “What do you want?”
Angel: “The truth.”
Hamilton: [snarky] “Can you be more specific?”
Angel: “Novaszi. The baby. Apocalypse or not so much?”
Hamilton: [uncomfortable] “I don’t know. [beat] There’s disagreement. Last I heard, they were still fighting it out. Some want her dead. Some don’t. Some don’t care so long as she’s under our control.”
Wesley: [frowning] “But surely they’ve been following her existence. They must have had plenty of time to...”
Gunn: [interpreting a look on Hamilton’s face; surprised] “They didn’t know. Oooh, someone’s gonna lose their head over this.”
Hamilton: “Heads. An oversight. Her file disappeared. We lost track of the situation.”
Wesley: “Or someone was hiding it from them.”
Hamilton: [skeptical] “Who has that kind of power? [beat] It was obviously human error. Nothing more.”
Angel: “What else?”
Wesley: “What is the nature of their disagreement? What are they arguing over, exactly?”
Hamilton shrugs. Angel threatens with the sock.
Hamilton: “I can’t say exactly. It’s not as if they let me sit in. I only get what they choose to share with me.”
Angel: “Which is?”
Hamilton: “There’s some concern over the father.”
Switch perspective to watching the action on a television screen—pan back to see Spike sitting on the edge of Deth’s bed, watching the scene, sipping a beer. He’s rigged the surveillance cameras so he can watch what’s happening in Angel’s office.
Spike: “It’s about bloody time. You’d think that might have come up before.”
He turns up the volume with a remote.
Deth: [in bed, mostly asleep, she offers a weak] “wha...?”
Spike: “Nothing, love. Go back to sleep.”
Deth: “Hmphsf” and she’s out again.
Hamilton: [continuing] “Even those who were believers are questioning the outcome now.”
Angel: “Why?”
Hamilton: “Don’t know. [offering a possible explanation] Folks tend to get edgy around here when a vampire with a soul is involved in a potentially apocalyptic event. [beat] Anyway, that’s all I know. The one thing everyone agrees on is that we need to keep her here. I imagine you feel the same.”
They all look at around, uncomfortably.
Spike switches off the screen.
Spike: “Not as such.” [turning his head toward Deth, though she is sound asleep] “Best be on our way, pet.”
*
Switch perspective back to Angel’s office.
Hamilton: “You going to let me out of this thing? My suit is getting wrinkled.”
Angel: “Not for a while. Get comfortable.”
End Scene.
**
Spike would have liked to grab Deth and make their escape the very moment he turned off the live feed from Angel’s office. It would have been an ideal time to catch them all off guard. But he was worried about the blood situation—how to get her what she needs. He figured it would take a few days of traveling before there would be an opportunity to get something set up and she was already a bag behind after the whole blood type incident. So he decides to wait until after she has her next transfusion. Maybe even find a way to get them to give her a bit extra to buy them some time.
He won’t tell her, not before. You can never be too careful. What chance they have of getting out is entirely based on picking the right moment, and that means taking everyone by surprise.
Scene 4
Deth is sitting in the break room waiting for the signal from Spike. Of course, he doesn’t know she’s waiting for the signal. She’s not supposed to know anything. But how could she not? She’d woken up earlier to find him feigning sleep next to her. She let him pretend a while—it was nice to just watch. Alas, his impatience obviously got the better of him and he soon opened his eyes, which had not a hint of sleep lurking behind them. From the moment he spoke, she could tell something had changed—he was suddenly clearer. With a slightly forced devilish grin, he suggested meeting up in their favorite maintenance closet after her transfusion for a little off-the-camera fun. Thrilling as the suggestion was (especially since she’d thought about it EVERY time she’d passed by the door since their previous tryst), she knew it would be completely impossible to get away. For a shag. Seeing the skepticism on her face, Spike offered some explanation—he’d take care of the details. But she knew then—knew he was planning their escape. She was so happy, she felt like crying. (Yeah, crying had become an annoyingly regular reflex since that first time. Hormones.) It took everything she had understate her mood.
So in truth, he was expecting her to wait for A signal—just not THE signal.
When Lorne tumbles in to the break room, Deth is eating something from a Tupperware—looks like barely cooked cubes of beef.
Lorne: “Hey punkin’. Looks like your bun is rising. I’ll tell ya’ if the kid gets Spike’s eyes and your disposition, it’ll have the world at it’s feet!”
Deth just smiles warmly. She’ll miss Lorne.
Lorne: “Anyway, with the spirit of giving still fresh in the air, I picked up a little some’n some’n for the little cutie. Empath to empath.”
He hands Deth a little gift bag. She puts down her snack and pulls out the tissue paper. Inside is a little t-shirt. It has a cartoon picture of two little kids—one is hovering over a pile of candy wrappers, his mouth covered in chocolate. He’s coaxing the other kid to partake in the bounty. The second kid has his hand up, refusing, saying “I can’t. My mom reads minds.”
Deth: [small laugh] “Cute.”
Lorne: “Gave me a little tickle. [looking at her more closely] Well aren’t you downright Catherine-Z, all flush and healthy and ready to strut your pregnant self up on the Academy stage.”
Deth: “They just tanked me up downstairs. [with a smile] The donor must have been on something. I feel kind of groovy. [beat] That’s a song, isn’t it? [She searches her memory for the tune and sings it] Feelin’ groovy.”
The expression on Lorne’s face starts to change, but he glances to the side to hide it.
Lorne: “Hum a few bars, kitten. I didn’t quite catch it.”
Deth: [without thinking] “That’s all I know—(singing) ‘feelin’ groovy’.”
Lorne’s face totally falls this time. A look of forlorn pity overwhelms his previously cheery expression.
Lorne: [choked up, but trying to hide it] “Simon and Garfunkel—not enough flash for my taste, but you couldn’t beat ‘em in the harmony department.”
As he says this, Deth’s expression changes as well. They lock eyes for a moment. Deth looks away quickly.
Lorne: [actual tears in his eyes, but desperately trying to cover] “Sorry. Just having a Shirley MacLaine moment—man that woman can just get in your head and stay there—past lives my ass. More like past possessions. Note to self, call Rosanna Arquette—I found her! Ech, don’t listen to me, I’ve got the babble bug for some reason. I’m sure you’ve got things to do, so I’ll just skeedadle.”
Deth: [softly serious] “Don’t tell.”
Lorne: [starting to protest] “But...”
Deth: [emphatic, but still more like a suggestion than a command] “Don’t.”
And that’s that. He won’t. He couldn’t.
After Lorne leaves, Deth puts the lid on the Tupperware, which is still half full. She turns toward the refrigerator, but then just tosses it in the trash. She walks through the door to find her ever-present “bodyguard” leaning against the wall just outside. She ignores him, walking on rather aimlessly as he follows a few steps behind. She passes Wesley’s office with a quick glance in. She’ll miss Wesley, too. Before she gets more than a yard or two down the hallway, Wes pops his head out the door.
Wesley: “Deth, have you seen the Skeartillian text? The one with the encrypted insert?”
Deth: “Sorry.”
Wesley: “That’s odd. It must be buried somewhere—perhaps you can help me dig around for it later this evening.”
She nods without saying anything and continues her ramble through the halls. As she turns the corner into the main foyer, she can hear Spike talking to Angel down the hall. Spike is just inside the doorway to Angel’s office.
Spike: [lowered voice] “I’m just saying, if she’s going to stay here, you need to be more careful about who has access to her room.”
Angel: [annoyed, as usual] “No one has access to her room, except you, me and Wesley. Will you relax?”
Spike: “How do you explain this, then?”
He is holding up some sort of small bug-like device.
Spike: “S’not like the others, is it? Not like yours.”
Angel takes it and frowns, suddenly looking concerned.
He presses the intercom button.
Angel: “Harmony, get Taylor Higgs from security in my office. Yeah, now. And tell him to assemble his team—we need to talk. [to Spike] Keep her occupied down here for a while and I’ll have them do a full sweep.”
Spike: “Easy peasy. Just say when.”
Angel looks slightly suspicious—he was expecting a bit more badgering and harassment. Or at least an insult or two.
Angel: “Sure.”
Spike walks out the door and smiles when he spies Deth only a few steps away. He strolls up, but addresses her bodyguard first.
Spike: “Lurch, a word.”
And with that, he pulls the guard aside and they have a hushed conversation that we don’t hear. There’s obviously some negotiating going on. Spike slips something into the guy’s hand. Finally, Spike breaks away and smiling, takes Deth’s hand and starts to lead her toward the maintenance closet.
Spike: [to the guard] “So ‘bout 30 minutes, then?”
Guard: [scoffing] “Fifteen.”
Spike: “Come on, mac. Takes a bit of time to please a lady.”
Guard: “Fifteen.”
Spike: [annoyed] “Might do for someone like you, but...”
Guard: “Ten.”
Spike: [indignant] “You can’t be serious.”
Deth: [breaking in, pulling Spike’s hand] “It’s fine. Thanks.”
They disappear into the room, as the guard leans against a wall a couple of steps away.
The minute the door is closed behind them, Spike steps to the far side of the closet and moves a stack of boxes out of the way, revealing a hole in the wall.
Spike: “Time to go, pet.”
Deth: [without a moment’s hesitation] “I’ll grab my bag.”
Spike: [confused] “Your bag?”
Deth: [as she digs behind a stack of toilet paper rolls] “Hid it here a few hours ago.”
Spike: “But, how...?”
Deth just smiles widely, no longer able to contain her elation.
Spike: [shaking his head, amused] “We don’t have much time. ‘Got the security circus jumping through a hoop or two, but they’ll be finished soon enough.”
Deth: “Yeah. We should go.”
But they both stand there, looking at each other. It’s obvious they’re both thinking the same thing?
Deth: “So I guess there’s not really time for...??”
Spike: [doing some calculations in his head] “Are you wearing knickers?”
Deth: [an affirmative shrug] “Sorry.”
Spike: [shaking his head] “Yeah, we’d better go.”
Sigh.
Deth: [looking through the hole in the wall] “Where exactly?”
Spike: “Leads to the elevator shaft. We’ll jump on top, ride down to the basement and then out through the garage.”
Deth frowns, looking down at her now rather enormous belly. Agility is probably not her strong point right about now.
Spike: [anticipating her thoughts] “No worries—just hang on.”
And with that, he scoops her up in his arms and heads through the hole.
**
Switch perspectives to the foyer again. Angel steps up to Harmony’s desk. After a glance over toward “Lurch”,
Angel: “You seen Spike? I forgot to ask him something.”
Harmony: [irritated] “Maintenance closet. AGAIN.”
Angel: [getting the implication] “Oh. How long have they been in there?”
Harmony: [defensive] “Like I’m timing it. Whatever. Like I even care.” [As she covertly turns off the timer function on her watch.]
Angel: “Wait, did you say ‘again’?”
Harmony: “Yeah, he’s been in and out of there like five times today. [wistful, almost under her breath] Probably doing something romantic like decorating with candles or flowers or (sniff) candy... ”
Angel thinks about this a minute and is suddenly very suspicious.
Angel: “Didn’t you think that was something worth mentioning?”
Harmony: “Excuse me, but I seem to remember a certain memo that you refused to sign. It’s out of my hands now.”
He just shakes his head and rushes over to the door.
**
Switch perspective to Spike climbing out of the elevator shaft into a basement-type area with Deth in his arms. He sets her down and they start heading towards the garage. Spike picks the lock of the entrance door and they walk out into the open area of the garage. Just as the door swings shut behind them, they’re confronted with Angel and the security team.
Spike: “Aw, Fuck.”
Angel: “Did you honestly think it would be that easy? I knew you’d come for the Viper. You’re predictable, Spike, that’s what always gets you.”
Spike: “Pshhhw. I wasn’t coming for the bloody Viper, you ponce.” Ok, so maybe he was initially, but on the way down the elevator shaft, he’d changed his mind and was going to take the beamer.
Deth scans the security force—all human. No way to talk her way out of this one. They’ve got guns, but there’s no way they’d risk firing a bullet with her in the room. There aren’t that many of them, but it would be too easy to get separated if they tried to fight.
Angel: “That’s it, Spike. Your access is hereby revoked. Why did I ever even consider trusting you?”
Spike: “Come on, Sunshine. You never considered it. It’s kind of a thing with us. S’what makes our relationship work.”
Angel: “I won’t be able to protect you after this.”
Spike: “Never would think to ask.”
Deth reaches out and grabs Spike’s hand.
Angel: [to Deth] “He can’t protect you—not alone. Not out there.”
Deth: [angry, defensive, uncharacteristically forceful] “I’ve got more protectors out there than you can imagine.”
Angel: [frowning] “Take them upstairs.”
As the men move toward Spike and Deth, Illyria drops from the rafters above, landing just in front of them.
Illyria: “You will let them go.”
Angel: “You have got to be kidding.”
Illyria turns her head slightly toward Spike and tosses him a set of keys. He catches them and takes a closer look.
Spike: “Sorry, mate, Viper it is.”
Angel: “Illyria, this is none of your concern.”
Illyria: “It is of little concern. Perhaps beneath my concern, and yet I wish it and therefore it must be.”
Angel reaches for his phone to call in reinforcements. Illyria instantly kicks it out of his hand. He lunges as if to engage her, but she steps aside, heading toward the men.
Illyria: “I shall kill them all quickly. You cannot stop me. If you wish to try and fail, I shall honor this. They are your men.” [she adds the emphasis on ‘men’ with a disgusted curl of the lip]
Spike: “Easy peasy.”
Spike pulls Deth toward the cars, as Illyria moves to put herself between them and the men. Deth pulls away for a moment and rushes up to Illyria, whispering something in her ear. Illyria nods and then Spike and Deth take off. Reinforcements arrive and there is some fighting, but Deth and Spike manage to get away.
In the car.
Spike: “What was that about?” [referring to Deth’s whisper to Illyria]
Deth: “Something to keep them busy.”
**
Sometime later, Angel, Wes and Gunn are having a conference. Angel is pacing.
Angel: [to Wes] “You’ve got to get Illyria under control.”
Wesley: “You can’t be serious. She’s not my pet, Angel. I have virtually no influence whatsoever.”
Angel: “Well, work on that ‘virtually’ part and get back to me.”
Gunn: “Any ideas on how they managed to disappear so quickly? It’s not like they’re exactly low profile.”
Angel: “They switched cars before they hit the city limits. Or hopped a train.”
Wesley: “And based on what Deth said to Angel, they may have a lot of help.”
Gunn: “But we’re Wolfram and Hart—didn’t we, like, invent the underground?”
Angel: “It won’t be easy for them to stay hidden, for sure. I doubt they have any better handle on who their friends are than we do.”
Gunn: “I hate to bring this up, but do we even know what we want to happen?”
Wesley: “We want to bring her back here.”
Gunn: “I get that part, but why? Maybe they’re right not to trust us. I seem to remember some discussion of preventing the apocalypse if necessary.”
Angel: “What’s your point?”
Gunn: “I just think it’s hard to make a plan when we don’t even know whose side we’re on.”
Wesley: “Or what the sides are, for that matter.”
Angel: “Let’s not get carried away with the relativism here. There’s good and there’s evil. We know which of those sides we’re on, right?”
Gunn: “Lets say we find out that Deth’s baby IS bringing the next apocalypse. Should we really be in a rush to bring her back here if we end up having to...if the only choice we have is to...[he can’t say it]...when it’s possible that other evil folks are ready and willing?”
Wesley: “You think we should leave them out there?”
Gunn: “Let nature takes it’s course. Maybe. I don’t know ‘bout ya’ll, but I’m not sure I’ve got what it takes to do the job.”
Wesley: “But we’d make absolutely sure it was the right thing to do. There would be no doubt if it were to come to that. But just leaving it to fate—leaving her out there to be murdered by some pack of demons...Well, I don’t see how that’s any better in the end. Probably worse. Yes, much worse.”
Angel: “What if we don’t have the luxury to be certain? Maybe there won’t be time. [pointed look to Wesley] I won’t make that mistake again.”
Gunn: “Again?”
Wesley: “Neither will I.”
They are interrupted by the appearance of Illyria. Angel immediately calls security.
Gunn: “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here.”
Angel: “We will imprison you until this is over.”
Illyria: [shrugging, bored] “It is of no consequence. My existence here is imprisonment. [turning to Wesley] I have a message for you.”
Wesley: “From whom?”
Illyria: “The magic word is rebyrenok”
Wesley: “How do you know this?”
She shrugs.
Wesley: “Illyria, are you part of this religion?”
Illyria: “No. After my time. Why would I dream of liberation when my kind ruled? [beat] Deth wished you to know the word.”
Wesley: [to Angel and Gunn] “The message implied this may give us access to information about Deth.”
Angel: “Let’s go.”
They all follow Wesley to his office as he retrieves the relevant book. He opens it to the middle and says “rebyrenok”. There is a swirling of light and from the pages emerges a small disk made of stone, covered in etchings. It falls to the floor and begins to spin. A holographic image appears of a demon priest—his skin is a deep green and his robes are bright purple (matching his lips). He has relatively humanoid features, though the bones of his face extend backwards into a small crest. His expression is somber initially, but then he looks to the side and speaks to someone who is no longer there in a rather camp, jovial tone.
DP [demon priest]: “Is it on? Are we ready? It is? Oh dear.”
He clears his throat and goes back to looking deadly serious.
DP: [deep, monotone, booming voice] “Are you The Protector?”
Wesley: “I am.”
A few seconds pass before the priest says something.
DP: “If you are The Protector, you must proclaim yourself in order to continue.”
Wesley: “I am The Protector.”
Angel looks over to Wesley.
Angel: “What is this?”
Wesley: “Some sort of supernatural hologram. An interactive one, it would seem. Fascinating.”
DP: [his voice changing back to the camp, jovial] “Oh, I’m so glad. [putting his hands together in a sort of prayerful clap] Exciting times, exciting times!!! [looking to the side again] What? Yes, yes, I’ll get to it. [putting on the “formal” voice again] As The Protector of the Novaszi, you have the privilege of direct information. Choose your questions wisely, as this spell is limited in its power. [off to the side again, camp voice] That hardly seems adequate. Yes, yes, I understand. [back to “formal”] You are limited to three answerable questions. [back to “camp” voice, with his hand cupped to the side, as if telling a secret] Or ten minutes, whichever comes first.”
Wesley: [glancing toward Angel, who shrugs] “Who are you?”
DP: “Ooh, so glad you asked. [catching himself, trying to be formal again] I am Darneko, last of the Shepherd Priests. We are the carriers of The Word. We await the offspring of the Novaszi to lead us into Paradise. [His intonation changing again, his excitement getting the better of him—with a hand wave] Oh, scrap the formality—It’s much too exciting. If you are addressing me, then the Novaszi is pregnant and our salvation will soon be at hand. Oh, how I wish I could see her. Is she beautiful? Oh yes, she must be. Of course. And wise. Yes, very wise she must be. [waving his hand] I apologize. I promised myself I wouldn’t get carried away. It’s just that we’ve been waiting for millennia. Of course there have been others—they’ve come and gone without so much as a glance toward demonkind. We’ve been so very patient. We knew the time would come. Only the great powers know when the time is right to send her. Only they have the wisdom to see. We are, as always, at their mercy. And now the time is at hand. So many questions left unanswered. Such a deep sorrow to not be alive to see it. [Shaking his head, tears in his eyes] Oh, here I go again. [He takes a deep breath to get himself under control before continuing.] You may wonder why I am the last. It was a powerful and widespread belief—but time erodes all things. So many species, so much divergence. [beat] And perhaps the taboo on the written word was a bit short sighted on our part. [shrugs] It seemed the way to go at the time. Still, they will believe again once they see. It will come to pass. [beat] But I digress. Next question, please.”
Wesley: “Why is the Novaszi in need of protection?”
Frown from Angel—NOT the question he would have asked.
DP: “Ah yes. You must have observed that she is born with a life signature that is recognized by almost all demonkind. One of our great accomplishments was to tie this recognition to an innate sense of non-aggression. Once they know her, they cannot wish her harm. This is true even for non-believers. Yes, yes, we’re quite proud of that one. But back to your question. Though this protects her throughout her short human life, once she is with child, her signature weakens as her baby’s becomes stronger. The recognition becomes less universal. [He stands there a moment, obviously trying to decide whether to say more. Reluctantly,] And, well, there’s the possibility that once she is with child, there may be some amount of jealousy or fear from the species or races who are the enemies of the father. Our religion speaks of unity, and we believe that Novaszi’s child will treat all equally. Still, there are always skeptics who will spread fear. They may try to kill Novaszi so that another will be called. Perhaps. But this is all speculation. Next question, please.”
Angel: [before Wesley has a chance to speak] “Is Novaszi’s offspring the bringer of The Apocalypse?”
DP: “I’m sorry, I have not prepared an answer to this question. This could be because 1) the question is unanswerable, 2) I do not understand the question or one of the terms therein or 3) I just didn’t feel like preparing an answer to it. I AM a rather moody fellow.” [He laughs as he says this.]
Wesley: “Darneko, tell us what you expect the world to be like after Novaszi’s child is born.”
DP: “Ah, yes. Good question. In truth, I cannot say for sure without further information. We believe that the child, once grown, will bring unity and freedom. We believe that a day will come when demonkind will no longer be kept in the dark recesses of this world. We believe the child will lead us out of the darkness to take our rightful place, after which all species will live in a dynamic harmony. How this will be accomplished will in a good part be determined by the nature of the paternal species. [His eyes get wide with excitement] This is why it’s so very thrilling—so many possibilities. Over the millennia, we have discussed the outcome for every potential suitor. Of course, nothing is for certain—the Great Ones, in their wisdom, have chosen to keep the exact details from us. But if you name the paternal species, I will tell you our interpretation of the prophesied account.”
Wesley: “Vampire.”
DP: “Please repeat your answer.”
Wesley: “Vampire.”
DP: “If I heard you correctly, you’re answer was ‘Vampire’. Vampires are half-breeds and cannot, therefore, impregnate Novaszi.”
Wesley: “But one did.”
This elicits no response from the hologram.
Gunn: “What would happen if a vampire impregnated Novaszi? [to Wes and Angel, in explanation] Don’t you guys watch Jeopardy? [shrugs] Form of a question.”
DP: [exact repeat] “I’m sorry, I have not prepared an answer to this question. This could be because 1) the question is unanswerable, 2) I do not understand the question or one of the terms therein or 3) I just didn’t feel like preparing an answer to it. I AM a rather moody fellow.” [He laughs as he says this.]
DP: [looking off to the side, he mumbles to himself “Oh dear”] “I’m sorry, but your three questions have been answered and the power of this spell is dwindling. I only have a moment. Please, protect the Novaszi at all costs. She is our salvation. [Getting emotional, off to the side “I just need another moment—don’t start the music, I beg you.” <snerk> He speaks quickly] As Protector, you must understand that your responsibility extends beyond the birth. Novaszi must be allowed to nurture the child into adulthood. The times may be difficult—there may be chaos and confusion. The child must survive to rise from the rubble. Novaszi must survive to instruct....” [the hologram cuts out]
Gunn: “Well that was kind of a bust. Not exactly heavy on the detail.”
Angel: “I think we heard enough.”
Wesley: “But they had no information on what the father being a vampire might mean. They must have considered it an impossibility.”
Angel: “Do you really think matters? I’m guessing the differences are a matter of weapon of choice and favorite beverage. All roads lead to Rome, Wes, didn’t you get that? We need to stop this thing before it starts.”
Gunn: “Just playing devil’s advocate here (pun intended?), but if the Senior Partners are split on this, it might not be as clear as all that.”
Angel: “The Senior Partners thrive on conflict—even among demons. All the talk of unity may make them a bit nervous.”
Wesley: [after a moment of contemplation] “I agree that if the scenario outlined by Darneko comes to pass, it doesn’t look terribly good for us--though I did find it interesting that he never once mentioned humans. Still, I think that Spike being the father introduces enough uncertainty to prevent us from making any decision now in terms of Deth’s fate. Perhaps we could use our old stand-by criterion to better inform our actions. If the baby has a soul, then we cannot, in good conscience, kill it.”
Gunn: “But if it doesn’t and we let it be born...I may not be much of a bible-reader, but I do have cable and a thing for Demi Moore. Is there anything to that ‘Hall of Souls’ business? If so, things may start to get wiggy the minute the baby’s born.”
Wesley: [shrugging] “There’s no way to know for sure. [uncomfortable glance toward Angel] Prophesies are easily misinterpreted.”
Gunn: “Can we tell if it has a soul before it’s born?”
Wesley: “Maybe. Unless you believe, as some christians do, that the baby’s soul enters its body as it is being born and not before.”
Angel: [placatory] “So we bring her back in and wait.”
They stand there is silence a moment. Wesley is obviously deep in thought—his brow furrowing more deeply with every passing second. He can sense Angel’s lack of commitment—his impatience. He looks up, almost surprised to hear himself speak.
Wesley: “I won’t kill her, Angel.”
Angel: “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Wesley: “No. I won’t participate at all. If you decide to have Deth killed, I’ll walk out of here.”
Angel sighs, deeply frustrated. He can’t help but be angered Wesley’s hesitancy in this situation—he was so quick the last time to believe in prophesies and whisk Connor away.
Angel: “Fine. Walk away. It wouldn’t be the first time. Only this time, you’ll be going alone.”
Gunn: “Did I miss something?”
Wesley: “Yes. Yes you did.”
End Scene.
**
Weeks pass. Angel uses all of Wolfram and Hart’s resources to track down Deth and Spike. Thus far, they’ve had limited success even in tracking them—they pick up the trail only after it’s gone cold. It’s obvious they’re being helped and hidden. Despite Angel’s stated goal of bringing them back to W&H, Wesley suspects that as time goes by, he’s more likely to give the order to have her killed. He begins to withdraw, spending more time at home.
Deth and Spike have indeed been getting help from various sources. It’s difficult to know who to trust—Deth’s powers of empathy come and go. She’s sure there are others looking for her besides Wolfram and Hart—others wishing her harm. In truth, there are more who would do anything to keep her safe. Not always easy to tell the difference. They must be very careful—even accepting help from those who revere her can be risky, as they have a desire to spread the word. They move constantly, staying underground (literally), sleeping on mats and floors or whatever they are offered. Spike emerges to steal blood from hospitals and clinics. They have what they need to do the transfusions. Still, as the baby grows, it gets more and more difficult to stay on top of things and Deth often finds herself with dwindling energy (and optimism). This isn’t the way it was meant to be, she’s sure. They don’t talk about it. They haven’t said a word about the baby since they left. Too busy running, surviving. That said, they’ve both been doing some research when they can. Deth had smuggled out a book or two from W&H. Spike gets his information from making conversation with anyone who has something to say. They are both woefully reaching the conclusion that things don’t look good—at least not from the human perspective.
Scene 5: A cave outside of El Paso, Texas.
Deth is leaning up against the wall of the cave—Spike is hooking up a bag of blood to a make-shift IV stand. When he finishes, he sits back, facing her. You can tell he’s itching for a cigarette. Or a beer. He looks tired. They both do.
Deth: “We need to talk.”
Spike gets a slightly panicked look on his face, mumbling.
Spike: “Yeah, sure. If you like.”
Deth smiles slightly with a small laugh, shaking her head.
Spike: “What?”
Deth: “All men get the exact same expression in response to those words, no matter what the situation. We’re talking about the possible end-of-the-world here. There’s no need to get that look.”
Spike: [smiling back now] “You never know with you women. You *might* have been about to yammer on about ‘not dating other people’ or ‘where’s this relationship going?’...”
Deth: “Or ‘what were you thinking flirting with that skinny little Cithaero demon back in Flagstaff??!!”
Spike: “Exactly. A bloke never knows when he might get trapped into talking about such sillyness. [beat] And I wasn’t flirting. Perhaps there *might* have been a lingering glance in the direction of her ass, but...”
Deth playfully throws a handful of sand at him.
Deth: [after a brief pause, back to serious] “What are we going to do after?”
Spike: [thinking about it a moment, a bit of a sigh] “I’m not much of a baby person, honestly. They’re loud and wriggly and difficult to please. [shaking his head] I won’t juggle for it. Or make funny faces or talk in some insipidly twee voice to make it smile. But, you know, I’ll help with the rest of it.”
Deth: [putting all inspired images out of her mind] “We have to do the right thing.”
Spike: [getting it, suddenly somber] “Oh, right.”
Deth: “I won’t be able to do it. [beat] We may have to...”
Spike: “Maybe not.”
Deth: “You know it’s not looking good. What I’ve read—what they say. I can’t be responsible. While I’m still thinking clearly, I need to know that we agree.”
Spike: “To not let the world end? Yeah, I think we’re of one mind on that one.”
Deth: “The...[she pushes the word out] baby will have a soul or it won’t. Will you be able to tell? [Seeing Spike nod] You’ll need to do it right away.”
Spike: “Listen, you’re right about what they’re saying and I trust you know what it says in those books. But take it from me, these things rarely play out they way they’re meant to. And the one thing they haven’t considered is me. I’m the sort who likes to have his cake and eat it too. I’ve got some ideas.”
Deth: [plaintively, more insistent] “Spike. Could you do it?”
There’s a part of her that wishes he’d say no—that cries out in pain at the thought. This is the part she fears will only grow as the time approaches.
Spike: “No worries, love. You leave the world savin’ to me.”
She nods.
Deth: “How many bags do we have left?”
Spike: “Three. We’ll need to head out at sundown. I scoured the city last night. There’s some sort of blood shortage—everything is under lock and key.”
Deth: [with a forced smile] “On to New Orleans?”
Spike: “Sure. Just in time for Mardi Gras. Fantastic crypts they’ve got—thousands of ‘em. Can’t bury the dead because the city’s so low. It’ll be a bugger to find an empty crypt this time of year. Still, it’d be worth it. And near the sea—you can have a swim if you like.”
Deth: “Bet I’ll get a lot of beads now that I’ve got such big tits.”
Spike: “No doubt. We’ll have a grand time.”
Deth smiles, warmly. Spike leans over to remove the empty bag of blood.
Deth: “Finish it.”
Spike: “What?”
Deth: “The other bags. I want to be awake.”
Spike: “We’re in Texas, love. The next big town is hours away.”
Deth: “We’re not going to make it to New Orleans.”
Spike knows this—has for some time. Still, he liked the game and it was a good way to lift her spirits.
Spike: “No.”
Deth: “I want to be awake.”
Spike nods and gets the other bags. It will take a bit for them to warm up enough. He has a thought.
Spike: “You want to go in to town? Get some real rest?”
Ah, the thought of a real bed and a hot shower and room service—she nods eagerly. He gets up and packs what few things they have. They still have a short time to wait until sunset.
Deth’s smile fades slightly as she contemplates something. She needs to tell him. It’s not fair to keep it to herself. But saying it out loud releases it and makes it seem so final.
Deth: “You know there won’t be an after for me.”
He didn’t know. Odd as it may seem, it hadn’t even occurred to him. He feels his throat tighten.
Spike: [hopeful] “You don’t know...”
Deth: [definitive] “I know. I’m sorry.”
Spike: [he feels a bit sick] “How?”
Deth: “Lorne. And I can feel it. Wasn’t supposed to be.” [She shrugs.]
Spike’s mind spins.
Spike: [His voice cracking slightly, he says the first thing that comes to into his head] “What are we gonna do?”
Deth: [sitting up, lightening her expression] “Mardi Gras. We haven’t done that before, and since we won’t see the real thing... We can make Hurricanes and get beads and candy. What else?”
Spike: [trying to play along] “Masks. Maybe some voodoo dolls to set the mood.”
Deth closes her eyes and smiles.
*
In town, Deth is waiting in the car while Spike talks to the hotel staff in search of a room. This is the fifth hotel they’ve stopped at. Apparently there’s a rodeo in town and everything is booked up. Deth starts feeling overheated in the car and waddles her way into the lobby to see how things are going. Spike meets her halfway to the reservation desk.
Deth: “If you tell me there aren’t any rooms, I’m seriously going to freak. Now is NOT the time for more freakin’ biblical coincidences.”
Spike: [waving a key] “Honeymoon suite.”
Deth’s face erupts in an enormous smile and she makes a sound that is the closest thing to a squeal a girl like her could possibly make. Spike looks over his shoulder at the man behind the desk.
Spike: “Cheers, mate.”
Seeing Deth’s obviously pregnant belly, he raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. Spike scoops her up and heads to the elevator.
*
A bit later. Deth is sitting on the edge of the bed in a white robe. The empty bags of blood are in a stack on the bedside table. Deth’s eyes are bright and her cheeks flush. She’s waiting for Spike to return from his shopping trip—supplies for their two-person Mardi Gras parade. She feels good. Good enough to play. Like they used to do before. She smiles as her mind imagines the possibilities. She thinks she’s quite like to tie him up. Tease him for a while. She wonders how long she could keep him on the edge. She’d been so passive lately—months of not having the energy to be in control. Not tonight. She pictures him naked on the bed—hands tied to the bedposts with scarves. She’d do everything but let him come. Nibble him. Lick him. Push him to the back of her throat. Keep him hard and dripping. Thirty minutes? An hour? She imagines him telling a friend someday “She sucked my cock for an hour and a half—thought I was going to bloody implode from the pain of keeping it in. But it was fuckin’ worth it—Never came so hard in my entire life.” Hmmmm. And how wet and swollen she’d be by the end of it, aching for him. She’d wait until he was coming—wait for the spasms to start. Then she’d move up and impale herself on his pulsing knob, riding him hard and fast to get her own release. She imagines how good he’d feel, his long dick stroking past her spot, the motion tugging at her clit. It wouldn’t take long, but she’d keep riding him as long as he stayed hard—ride him until she was sore from the friction. She imagines his orgasm going on and on, lasting through hers. Suddenly her mouth has gone pasty, the moisture drawn away to other regions. She thinks about getting started without him, but then she hears the sound of keys at the door. Her eyes startle open as walks through the threshold carrying a variety of bags. She smiles at him, guiltily.
Spike: “You weren’t going to start without me, now, were you?”
Deth: “Did you get beads?”
Spike: “I got it all, pet. Beads, Hurricane mix, masks, bubble bath. Why don’t you get the tub ready and I’ll fix us some drinks.”
We next see them settled in the bath. They’re at opposite ends (it’s quite large). Deth is wearing one of those feathered eye masks. She’s got about five bead-necklaces around her neck—she’s sitting up enough so that her perky nipples are poking just above the water. Spike pushes his feather mask up on his head and reaches for his drink. He takes a sip and then relaxes back, taking a long moment to drink in the sight before him.
Spike: “God, your breasts look incredible. Such a perfect shape. I like the way they look, all wet and lined with bubbles. [He bites his lower lip] I’ve got a shiny gold necklace for you if you let me have a nibble.”
Deth: [looking down at her enormous belly poking up from the water] “You may have trouble getting to them.”
Spike: “Nonsense. [He makes his way over, kneeling in front of her. He lets his hand skim the surface of her stomach] I think your belly’s kind of sexy. ‘Cause, you know, you don’t get one of those without having done something rather naughty.”
She smiles, pulling him closer. He kisses up the line of her belly until he reaches the level of her breasts. He licks his lips again before lifting one breast up with his hand, running his thumb over the top of the areola. She feels a twinge between her legs in response to his touch—her nipples are so very sensitive. He opens his mouth to take in her taught nipple. He gently strokes his tongue from side to side over the tip, as he sucks a bit more of her breast into his mouth. She can’t help but whimper. He rhythmically massages her other breast with his hand until that nipple is similarly aroused. He takes his time, tenderly suckling each breast in turn. She feels the ache beginning, the wetness flowing. She lets her head drop back and her eyes close. He pulls away, reaching for something on the floor by the tub—she feels him put another set of beads around her neck. Instead of continuing, he shifts back to the other side of the tub. Leaning back, the tip of his erection sticks out just above the bubbles.
Deth: “How many beads do I get if I do something fun with that?”
Spike: “Depends. Why don’t you come over here and show me.”
Deth moves towards him, but turns her back to him. He reaches forward to pull her to him. As he does so, she reaches down and makes sure he’s positioned to enter her. She sinks down on his lap, as he pulls her to him. His cock slides in slowly, inch by inch. When she gets close to the base, he gives a quick thrust to push it the rest of the way inside her, making her gasp reflexively. It takes her a moment to relax and adjust to the stretch.
Deth: “How’s that?”
Spike: “It’s a start. ‘think maybe I’d like to see how long I can keep it there.”
He shifts his pelvis just enough to push in just a millimeter more. She closes her eyes, focusing her mind on the muscles in her vagina—she starts to squeeze them, massaging his shaft with her inner walls.
Spike: “Mmmm, that’s nice.”
He reaches his arms around her middle, holding her up slightly so he can get the room he needs to start with some small thrusts.
Deth: “Oh yeah. Ooooh.”
Spike: “Mmfgh. ’s been so long...forgot how fantastic you feel.”
He kisses the back of her neck, then starts to nibble and soft-bite her skin. He brushes her hair to the side, running his fingers through it, enjoying the silky feel.
Spike: “You hair’s faded. The red. It’s gone a bit strawberry. [He leans in to inhale the scent, as if it might actually smell of strawberries.] I’ll help you dye it later if you want.”
He continues shallowly thrusting into her, simply enjoying the intimacy of their connection.
Deth: “Hmmmm. Maybe all red this time. What do you think?”
Spike: “I think it’d be lovely. [beat, in a soft whisper] You’re lovely, you know that? You’re my lovely.”
This is perfect. Just this. Maybe for a bit longer....
But soon, she starts to feel sad—sad that this will end—sad that she can’t be Spike’s lovely forever. She needs to break away, clear her mind of these thoughts.
Deth: “Mmmmm.” [getting breathless] “You can have all my beads if you make me come in the next two minutes.”
Spike: “But that’s easy.”
He pushes her forward slightly so that she is on her knees, with her hands holding the sides of the tub. He grips her hips firmly and starts to thrust with more depth, pulling out his entire length before pushing back in with force. The pace starts slow, but deep and gradually gets faster and faster. Soon he’s plunging into her, splashing water all over the bathroom. She starts to whine and pant—it had been so long since they’d just fucked—fast and furious and hard. She wants to bleed, like the night of her birthday—she wants to be sore and spent and full of him. She feels the warm flush in her cheeks as her orgasm builds. She starts to plead, in rhythm to his thrusts “please, please, please...” He reaches his hand around her hip, planning to stroke her clit directly, knowing it will send her over the edge. She grunts “No. Just your cock.” Ah, a challenge. Bringing his hand back around, he shifts her pelvis slightly, downward and begins pounding with gusto. She can’t believe what she’s feeling—it’s enough to make her head spin. Must be the pregnancy hormones or the changes in blood flow or SOMETHING. Her whole lower body is on fire, tingling and burning and starting to pulse. She feels light headed and out of control. She screams as the pleasure peaks in an explosion of ecstatic tendrils, shooting outward from her cunt. She continues to scream as the waves continue.
Her pussy feels different, that’s for sure—he noticed the minute he’d entered her body. Everything feels softer, more textured. As usual, feeling her come is enough to bring him right to the edge—her cunt pulls at tugs at his cock, coaxing the orgasm from his groin. Instead of giving in to it, he continues to pump against her g-spot, seeing how long he can go before exploding. Aw, but she keeps coming and coming—the spasms don’t stop—unfuckingbelievable. He rides it (her) until he’s in pain holding it back—he finally grits his teeth and roars, letting his orgasm finally escape in to her dark recesses. They both collapse with a splash into the water, out of breath. After a moment, Spike reaches out of the tub and brings in their Hurricane glasses. They clink their glasses before taking a drink.
Deth: “Wait, who gets the beads now?”
Spike: “Hm. Don’t remember. We’ll have to start again.”
*
Hours later, Spike is fast asleep on the bed. Deth is determined not to waste the last of her transfusion energy on sleeping. With her head propped up on her elbow, she watches Spike sleep. As the hours pass, she can feel the blood draining, the tiredness descending like a heavy blanket. She knows she likely won’t wake up again, or if she does, it will only be for a few moments here and there. The baby has gotten too big—it takes too much. Giving it those last bags ensured it. But it was worth it—even without this indulgence, she only had a few days more. She thinks about what she’ll say. If she decides to wake him at all. She thinks back to all the times she and Spike made fun of deathbed scenes in movies—always so melodramatic and horrible. But now she gets it. What do you say when the end is near? Something cool and cryptic? “Rosebud.” Heh. Best not to say anything. Oh, but the desire is so strong. There are things to be said. Right? Vaguely. She thinks about asking him to dump her body in the ocean—away from the demons who would likely want to take possession of her body. How she’d like to just sink to the bottom and be alone with the fishes and corals who don’t care at all about her—who don’t notice her. She thinks about how horrible it is to leave him with this burden. How horrible it is to leave him. But that’s the way the story ends, I guess. She decides not to wake him. She’ll pick her favorite memory and....Wait. That’s bullshit. [She must have said it out loud, because Spike grunts in his sleep.] This isn’t fair.
Deth: “It’s bullshit”, she says, louder this time. “I won’t.”
She pokes Spike, who opens his eyes, groggily.
Spike: “Sorry, love. Hmpshrf need a minute....re-charge.”
Deth: [strong, emphatic] “I’m not ready for this.”
Spike: [waking up, he lifts up on his elbows] “What are you on about?”
Deth: [getting worked up, using up too much energy] “I’m not ready to be done. There’s too much to do. I don’t want life to stop. I won’t just stop. That’s not who I am. I’m not the martyr type.”
Spike sits up straight, hearing the seriousness in her voice. It’s odd because she doesn’t sound sad at all—just angry and determined. He doesn’t quite know how to react—how to comfort her.
Spike: “Me neither, but I bit it to save the world a while back. It seemed surprisingly easy at the time.”
Deth: [getting an idea] “You can help me.”
Spike: “I thought you said...[getting it] No.”
Deth: “It’s the only way.”
Spike: “It’s not a way at all. Come on. Don’t be so naïve. You know better.”
Deth: “I know it’s not the same as living. But it’s better than dying.”
Spike: “It is dying.”
Deth: “It’s the only way to have anything. Don’t you dare be a hypocrite.”
Spike: [frowning] “What about the baby?”
Deth: [thinking a moment] “It won’t affect things. It’s far enough along.”
Spike: [skeptical] “How can you be sure?”
Deth: “Some things I just know. [working through the details in her mind] You’ll know when it’s the right time—you’ll be able to sense it, just as you could if you were draining my blood yourself. Once it’s done, you’ll have to cut the baby out. Best to keep me unconscious in case I try to interfere.”
She looks at Spike, pleadingly. He looks away. She adds:
Deth: “I don’t expect you to be with me. After. [This is the hardest part for her to fathom and she can’t keep her voice from cracking] You couldn’t. Not after everything you’ve done to get where you are. [beat] You can go to her. Try again. I’ll just be another vampire.”
Spike: [he shakes his head] “You sure this is what you want?”
Deth nods. Spike responds in kind, indicating he’ll do it.
Deth: [starting to feel very sleepy] “I don’t have much time. [wiping some tears away] We should decide a couple of things. [beat] She should have a name. If only for a few minutes.”
Spike: [before he can filter his reaction, he blurts out with an excited smile] “It’s a girl?”
He can’t stop himself from touching Deth’s belly as he says this. He looks up at Deth, eyes eager. This about wrecks her. Seeing her reaction sobers him and his pleased expression quickly fades.
Deth: [nodding] “What was your mother’s name?”
Spike: “Anne”
She can tell by the way he says it that he doesn’t like the idea of giving the baby this name. It’s true. He doesn’t like the thought of having to kill his mother a second time.
Deth: [frowning, making light] “A bit bland, isn’t it? Did she have a middle name?”
Spike: [laughing a bit at how outdated it sounds] “Charlotte”
Deth: “Charlotte. Like Charlotte’s web—always liked that book. She was a spider.”
Spike: “Charlotte it is, then.”
A few moments pass, Deth’s energy dwindling quickly.
Deth: “When I wake up, will I know you? [beat] Will I still love you?”
Despite herself, she thinks it might be better if she didn’t.
Spike: “Maybe.”
Though he knows from past experience that the chances are slim.
Deth: “Will you talk to me—while I’m changing? I’ll be less afraid if I can hear you.”
It almost breaks his heart to hear this—she really doesn’t understand, does she? But maybe it will be different for her. Maybe. It doesn’t hurt to pretend.
Spike: “Sure, love. Every minute.”
Deth: [her eyes start to flutter] “I’ll try to hear you. I’ll try to stay.”
He nods, his expression suddenly melancholy.
End scene.
***
Scene 6
Spike is carrying an unconscious Deth down an underground corridor of some sort. It looks like an abandoned train tunnel. He walks until he comes to a door—the kind of maintenance doors you see in transportation tunnels periodically. But this door is lined with Christmas lights and there is a Welcome mat in front. He knocks. A few seconds pass before the door is opened, revealing a wrinkly-faced demon with long, floppy ears and red eyes. When he sees Spike in the doorway, he takes his free hand (the other is holding a box of snacks) and rubs his eyes.
Clem: “Spike? I heard you were dead. More dead. Burned up in a fiery blaze.”
Spike: “You heard right, but your source is outdated. You know I’m not one to let a little thing like being reduced to a pile of ash keep me down. Mind if we come in for a spell?”
Clem: [embarrassed] “Oof, how rude of me. Come in, come in.” [With a beaconing wave.]
Spike steps through the door to find a small room, equipped with a tiny TV, an assortment of cactus plants, a couch and a mini-refrigerator. He sets Deth down on the couch, putting a pillow beneath her head.
Clem: “Sooo. How’s re-animation treatin’ ya’?”
Spike: “Not bad. Bit of a slow start, but once things get going...”
Clem: “They just roll right over ya’, believe me I know! Listen, can I offer you some chips? They make low-salt Bugles now—the old ones were tasty, but they made me kind of puffy.”
Spike: “Listen, Clem, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to look after my girl here for a bit.”
Clem: [looking over towards Deth] “Oh, so she’s not just lunch then. Sorry, I forgot you jumped off the blood wagon a while back. Kind of relieved, actually. I’m a bit squeamish. [giving her a closer look] She’s sort of pretty. A bit thick in the middle, but aren’t we all [patting his belly].”
Spike: “She’s pregnant, Clem.”
Clem: “Ooh. Right. [his eyes go wide, slightly panicked] She’s not going to have the baby here, is she? ‘Cause I don’t think I could take the sight of all that blood. And I just cleaned.”
Spike: “Nah. She’s got days to go.”
Clem: “Phew. You...[shaking his finger at Spike]...you had me worried there for a minute.”
Spike: “The thing is, I need to track down a guy—probably take me the better part of a day, maybe less. We’ve got some people lookin’ for us, so we need to keep a low profile”
Clem: [shaking his head, knowingly] “As usual.”
Spike: “You’ll look after her, then?”
Clem: “Is she sleeping? What should I do when she wakes up? She could be afraid—I have been known to give people quite a start.”
Spike: “She won’t wake up. She’s actually turning.”
Clem: “Turning? As in, into a vampire? [nod from Spike] Oh gosh, Spike. I don’t know. Girl vampires don’t like me. They can be really mean.”
Spike: “No worries, mate. She’s got another 12 hours to go. At least. And I’m sure she’d like you.”
Clem: [wary] “I guess. I do owe you still. Ok, I’ll do it.”
Spike: “Thanks, Clem, you’re the best. Oh, and one more thing.”
Clem: “What’s that?”
Spike: “Talk to her.”
Clem: “But she’s unconscious.”
Spike: “You talk to your plants, don’t you?”
Clem: “It helps them grow. Burt and Ernie over there used to be HALF that size. Then I started reading to them and shazam, they’re growing like weeds.”
Spike: “They are weeds, Clem.”
Clem: “Oh, pshaw [with dismissive hand wave]. I’ll talk to her...well, I’ll talk to Burt and Ernie and she can listen in.”
Spike: “Thanks.”
Spike leaves and Clem looks uneasily over at Deth.
**
Spike returns to pick up Deth about 8 hours later. He takes her to what he deems a “safe” place, underground and hidden away. He readies the room, preparing for the “birth”. She had actually started to wake up a few hours before, but he gave her a sedative to keep her down. He has assembled the usual things—mattress, sheets, a tub of water, a large knife, a bottle of blood, etc. Once everything is set, Spike waves someone into the room—he’s some sort of robe-wearing shaman-type demon.
Spike: “You know what to do? You’re sure?”
The shaman nods.
Spike: “Here we go. No time like the present.”
Without hesitating another moment, Spike takes the knife and begins to cut through Deth’s belly. He’s careful not to look at her face. He reaches in and after some struggling, pulls out the baby, which is covered in blood and goo. The baby’s eyes are still closed and it doesn’t cry. Spike focuses a moment on the baby’s face and then sighs, frowning. There’s no soul. He leans back onto his knees, defeated. As he does this, the room starts to shake. He turns to the shaman and nods.
Spike: “Guess that’s it then—we move on to Plan B.”
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He mumbles to himself: “Not like it made a bloody difference anyhow, right?”
The shaman walks over and begins to chant. The room continues to shake and rubble starts to fall. He holds his hand over the baby. There is much swirling of light and then nothing. The room goes still. The shaman backs away, his head down and quickly disappears. The silence is broken by the cry of the baby. Spike shakes his head, as if dislodging cob-webs in his brain. He opens and shuts his eyes a few times.
Spike: “That’s a relief, let me tell you. Time to take care of your mummie and get you on your way, little girl.”
He cleans them up as best he can and wraps the baby. He prepares a little box with blankets and tucks a note inside (written the previous day).
Next we see is the box with the baby, sitting in a doorway. We hear the sound of the doorbell ringing and subsequent footsteps towards it (almost in time with the footsteps away from it). The door opens and we see a rough-looking Wesley in a robe, carrying a glass full of some type of alcohol. He looks around, then hearing the crying, finds the box with the baby.
Wesley: “What have we here?”
He leans over and pulls back the top blanket, revealing the baby with a bottle full of blood tucked next to its little body. It looks human, mostly, except for the deeply yellow eyes and hint of a small ridge between her little eyes. No teeth yet, of course, but two tiny raised bumps on her gums indicate the future presence of vampire fangs. She has a gold chain around her neck with the Ring of Amarrah hanging as a charm. Wesley looks around cautiously before picking her up. The instant she’s in his arms, she stops crying. He can’t help but smile. He goes to reach for the bottle of blood, but realizes he’s still carrying the tumbler of scotch from inside. He looks at it a moment and then tosses is onto the sidewalk, smashing it, before picking up the bottle and heading inside.
Once inside, he unfolds the note and reads it.
“Dear Wesley.
Only have a minute...
Her name is Charlotte. She was born without a soul, but you’ll soon discover she is now adequately endowed in that regard. I gave her the only thing of value I had. A more than fair trade, assuming the guy I hired to do the job knows his stuff. But if all went as planned, I won’t be very keen to spend my days changing nappies, so that’s where you come in. Keep her safe. Deth isn’t quite herself anymore, so I’ll do my best to keep her away. Don’t think she’ll have much interest anyway.
Oh, and tell Angel I’m one up now, for sure. And he can have his bloody Shanshu and good riddance and no need to worry that they’ll get us confused anymore—he’s back to being THE vampire with a soul, bloody self-righteous wanker. And maybe tell him I’m sorry for leaving him alone in that. Or just flip him the bird—more to the point and easier to understand.
Cheers,
Spike”
***
Switch to Spike driving a car, on the way out of town. Deth is crumpled in the front seat next to him. She’s waking up. She looks around, confused. Obviously out-of-it.
Deth: [looking down at the bandages] “Have I been sick?”
Spike: “Yes, very.”
Deth: “But I’m all better now.”
Spike: “Near enough.”
Deth: “I feel like I’m forgetting something important. I feel like...”
Spike: “Rest, love. We can talk about it all later.”
He touches the side of her face, affectionately.
Deth: “Where are we going?”
Spike: “New Orleans.”
Deth: “Good. I quite fancy a swim.”
THE END