~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 41~
Jacob stood at the back door, leaning out. “Avery!” he cried. “Avery!”
The man was gone; disappeared before Jacob’s astonished and now panic-stricken eyes. Or rather it appeared that he was snatched, hollering something about Mary, Jesus and Joseph.
“Bloody… oh no!” He had the silly urge to step out and try to find Avery, save him, but it was squashed quickly and efficiently by an overwhelming desire to survive. The same thing would happen to him, he was certain of it.
Outside bad ... Inside good. He was thinking simple thoughts like that, his mind going oddly numb, before reality popped him a good one and brought him back.
“AVERY!” he screamed again and turned to greet the oncoming stampede of footsteps.
“What happened?” Carla asked, mostly curious in the face of his near hysterics, her voice calm as she peeked around Jacob. She was a robust girl, perhaps nearly six feet in height and 170 pounds if she weighed 10. What she lacked for in daintiness she easily made up for in striking beauty and intelligence, among a few other unmentioned talents. “Do not tell me that he went out.”
“Shite, shite, shite!” Jacob pushed past the raven-haired girl and began pacing in the kitchen.
“Jacob, calm down.” She was still looking outside, eyes squinting against the glare of what appeared to be the early morning sun. “Tell me what happened.”
“He … he just disappeared. He was getting apples from that God forsaken tree and something … pulled him I think.”
Frowning, she turned, giving him the full benefit of her consideration. Her stare was intense, those crisp blue eyes boring into him, making him shudder. “Pulled him? Are you sure. Well, of course you’re not sure cuz you said, I think, but are you sure that’s what you think you saw?” Her gaze fell away and back to the great outdoors. He was relieved.
He closed his eyes, letting the event replay in his mind. “Yes. It was too strange. He was reaching for an apple and then suddenly his arm was yanked and he went sailing through the air, just … vanishing, as if through a window into nowhere.”
She closed the door and sighed. “If he’s around, I can’t tell.” Moving to the sink, she got a clean glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. “What made his big ass go outside anyway? He knows what happened to Rich.” She wasn’t too concerned with the answer because to her it made no difference why he did it, but she was curious about what drove people to do stupid things.
The floor was mighty interesting to the Watcher. “He thought he had a foolproof method and I thought so too.” He, of course, was blaming himself. “We didn’t count on some vacuum sucking him away like that. I should have stopped him.”
Carla laughed. “Like you could.” When Jacob glared at her, she brought the glass to her lips and swallowed in big gulps, she finished the water. “Well, nothing we can do about it, but maybe learn a lesson about staying inside, although I thought we all got that memo already.” With that, Carla left the kitchen, leaving Jacob to worry alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Giles, I so don’t want to be in a coma again.” Willow had this pasty look about her, as I she thought that they would consider forcing her.
“Of course not. We would never ..." he trailed off. “I would never endanger you in that way.” Turning to face the newcomer, he did what he did best; researched. “I gather that this Trina that you spoke of is the same girl who performed the spell.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know much about all that stuff. I just learnt that there was demons and such when they were in my face trying to kill me so I can’t tell you what she did or why. All I do know is she used us, for power. She told us she would, and if I’d known it would hurt like that I might have said hell no.”
He got a faraway look in his eyes, reliving their narrow escape. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t have, but it was a damn sight unpleasant. And according to Jacob, she was pretty powerful.” He laughed, a low giggle that got louder and sadder every second. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this crap … and it’s true! I have stepped into the Twilight Zone, for real.”
Everyone could sympathize. It was a lot to take in. Most of the world, what was left of it, had to be suffering from the same sort of shock.
“So is there anyone else there who can cast a spell?” Willow asked.
“Nope. All that’s left is Jacob and Carla, and me, but I sure as Hell can’t.”
She turned to the oldest watcher, that same shine in her eyes when she wanted to try ensouling Angel back in high school. “Giles, I can do it.”
Suddenly, she was being whisked away, a pale hand gripping her forearm tightly.
“Ow, hey!” she whined.
Spike stopped and released his hold on her, frowning his confused, puppy-dog frown. “Did you hear the part about a coma?”
Her eyes did that patient roll as she rubbed her already bruising arm. “That’s because one: she’s not as strong as me; and two, because she didn’t have a witch, two mages, and three vampires to help. Believe me. It’s a piece of cake.”
“Which may be laced with cyanide. You’ve gone completely around the bend, Red. Tell her, Angel.”
Giles and Angel had walked over to them. “Well, Spike must be serious. He called me Angel.”
“Whatever Pouf. Just tell the witch that she can’t do this. Giles?” Someone had to be the voice of reason, along with him.
“She’s right,” Giles replied, and Spike clenched his jaw. “Between us all, there’s more power that she would need to pull open a portal to a temporal shift.”
“And I did it before.”
They all looked at her.
“That day Buffy jumped into that portal to see the old guys that made the first slayer. I had to open up a portal to get her back. Spike, you were there.”
He did remember. “You nearly fried Kennedy and Anya.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But I was afraid then and was sorta lashing out wildly.” She turned to Spike. “I know where she went wrong and that won’t happen to me. I can do this.”
He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. “Fine, but if you end up a vegetable, I’ll turn you myself.”
“Whoa!” Angel blurted. “No more making vampires, okay?” A vision of Willow in leather flashed in his mind and he swallowed hard. “You probably don’t wanna do that anyway.”
Willow ignored him. “Let’s get ready to do this. The sun’ll be up shortly and certain people are allergic.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Cordy stood a little bit away from Amy and Ethan, who were talking to Avery, asking him questions about the spell and what he remembered of it, her attention on the other half of their little entourage.
“Interesting that you’re not involved in the decision making,” Wesley commented as he slipped up next to her.
She glanced at the vampire, apparently loose and without one of his keepers, and took a step back. “Stay right where you are, buster.”
Wesley pouted and glanced down at her, stepping forward. “You behave as if you don’t trust me, Cordelia. I’m crushed by that.”
“Whatever, as long as you keep your fangs to yourself.” She retreated another step.
“We were friends. Do you really think I’d drain you?”
Laughing, she stood her ground against another advance. “In a heartbeat.”
He shook his head, his _expression dark. “You’re wrong. I’ve got plans for you, Cordy. With our … history, I’d think you wouldn’t expect any less.”
“ANGEL!” she screeched, and Wesley backed away, wincing.
The eldest demon spun around and thumped Spike, like it was the blond’s fault, before trotting over to the pair of brunettes. She immediately began her tirade.
“You left him alone,” she growled. “As in, it only takes a minute to kill one of us, alone.”
“What did you do?” he glared at his childe.
“Nothing,” he replied, placing his hands in the air to indicate his total innocence. “I was merely having a chat with her about our friendship and how much it meant to me.”
Angel rolled his eyes.
“You! Ooooh,” she fumed. “You said you had plans for me!”
“Yes, to earn your trust and be worthy of your friendship again,” Wesley replied, blue eyes blinking, the picture of good intentions.
“Bo-lonie!”
“Look,” Angel interrupted, stepping between the two of them, and facing Cordelia. “I’ll keep him under control. Whatever he said, he was just trying to get a rise out of you because he knows not to really bite.”
Wesley’s eyes narrowed and he wanted to just bite her and be done with it, Angel be damned.
“Don’t do it, mate,” Spike advised. Wesley gazed at him, askance. “Whatever it is you wanna do, don’t. The ponce has eyes in the back of his overly gelled head. Although it’s not so gelled anymore,” he trailed off, his own head tilted slightly as he contemplated the state of Angel’s do and consequently, his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It was agreed. Willow would perform the spell.
She sat on the ground, trying to remember just what she had done before to get that portal to open. The others were milling about, waiting for her to get the mojo up and running. It was a novel concept, that she had to have a bit of warm up time, but in truth, she was always on and ready. She spent more of her energy tamping down her power than she ever would actually readying herself. A pair of feet appeared in front of her, crunching in the leaves and she glanced up to see Amy. The blonde seated herself in front of Willow.
“You sure you’ll be okay?”
Touched, Willow smiled and nodded. “Yeah. This is nothing really. Once I did a spell felt all around the world. Turned my hair white and had me high for hours, but I was pretty cool after.”
“I was thinking that Ethan and Wesley should be the first ones you use. They're stronger than me,” she commented, shrugging away the self-effacing words.
“Ethan I get, but why Wesley? I’m not that happy to feel a demon’s energy flowing through me, especially one without a soul.”
“I was talking to Mr. Giles and he said that Wesley was really accomplished with magic before, and I don’t want anything to happen to you because you chose the wrong battery.”
Willow leaned forward and took Amy’s hands in her. The other witch tried to hide her surprise, but failed. Then it didn’t matter much as the redhead grinned at her. “I won’t ever choose the wrong battery. I’m like lightening that way. And I trust you.”
Blinking away her tears before they could truly form, Amy nodded, her throat constricted and too thick with emotion to actually speak.
“Can you tell the others I’m ready? We need to be ready to move the vehicles as well, so maybe Kyle, Cordy and Angel can drive them.”
Amy smiled and stood, regaining her composure. “Yeah,” she sniffed. “Sure.”
~~~~~~~~
This time it didn’t take her yelling at the Powers to get that portal open, but it did go somewhat similarly otherwise. She treaded along the grass, just shy of the tree line, pointing at the ground with her finger, drawing a line that only she could see. Behind her were Ethan, Amy, Giles and Spike, and behind them all sat the bus, the motor home, and the van, engines running.
With a glance back at the others to be sure they were ready, she nodded, took a deep cleansing breath, and began.
“Validus copiae copie, patefacio porta ut talea in vicis. Tribuo nos porta, planto is mei.”
She chanted this repeatedly, calm and patient, confident that her will would be done … eventually.
Without warning, her hands flew backwards, blue crackling light shooting from them. The light encircled Amy and Giles first, gradually spreading to encompass the other two. Slowly she gathered their power, oblivious to the screaming. When fully charged, her hands shot forth and a huge wall, blue and watery in appearance, grew upwards from the ground vaguely along the line that she had drawn. It was like a garage door in reverse and roughly the size of a drive-in theatre movie screen and through it she could see, shimmering and fluid, the safehouse.
Getting to her feet took some effort, but when she did and glanced around, her smile faded. Ethan and Amy were both lying on the ground unmoving with Giles checking each of them for a pulse, while Spike stood, shakily but on his own, to the side, unconcerned.
“Spike, help me get them through!” Giles barked, irritated and in a good deal of pain, or maybe it was just aftershocks, pelting his system with tiny reminders of to what he had subjected it. The blond moved, swooping up the old mage easily, smirking as Giles struggled with carrying Amy. They walked up to the portal, gave each other nervous glances before both shrugging and taking that first daring step through together.
Willow looked on, eyes wide, checking for anything amiss. Spike was nowhere to be seen, but Giles turned and waved for them to follow, pointing wildly to the sky and strangely enough she thought he was laughing.
“All right,” the young witch started, pointing to the Texan in the van with Cordelia. “You, um, Avery, go and make sure no one attacks my friends.”
“You mean for me to go through that?” he yelled from the window, pointing at the wall.
“Don’t tell me a big man like yourself is scared of a little portal,” Cordelia retorted before hitting the gas and driving through.
Angel, in the RV with Wesley, and Kyle, transporting the kids, went in together, slower than the seer, but not showing any signs of aborting the trip.
Willow took a last look around and with a huge sigh of relief, stepped through just as the wall vanished behind her, revealing nothing but the predawn calm of the Idaho countryside.
~Part: 42~
Growing up in England with the parents God had gifted him with was not very hard. Giles never lacked for anything as a child and both his mother and father cared for him deeply. He knew that, just as he knew the sun would rise in the East. But they had lived a proper life, somewhat stiff and restricting, which was perhaps the root cause of his rebellion as a young adult. He wanted to live free, dance and laugh for days on end.
So it always surprised him when he really took a good look at his life to find that he had become his father, not as rigid, but certainly not the carefree man he had once hoped to be.
He was a serious man with serious duties. Not much tickled him these days. The onslaught of apocalypse after apocalypse wore on him and it took a great deal for him to forget the world was always at risk.
But the sight of Spike running, shrieking like a mad man as smoke curled from his hair and hands, had him giggling.
Amused, Giles stared at the spectacle, all the while carrying Amy’s unconscious form, and was somewhat disappointed when the vampire reached the covered, back porch of the house, the show over too quickly.
Spike dropped his load of mage unceremoniously and began slapping at his arms and legs frantically, putting out fires until he realized that they hadn’t started yet and stopped immediately, blue eyes going cold and icy as Giles approached, still giggling.
“Sod off.”
Placing Amy on the dusty wooden flooring with considerably more care than Spike had dispatched his own burden, Giles stood to his full height and stretched, arching his back. He felt the wound to his gut, still slightly tender when he pulled at the muscles like he was doing now, but the pain was minimal. He was healing well, thanks to Wesley really; Wesley who was now damned, just like this one in front of him. No amount of resouling would change that and the concept saddened him, the mirth he felt a moment ago vanishing, vaporous and intangible.
“Do you think they’re alright?” he asked, glancing down at Amy and Ethan.
Spike shrugged, eyes flickering to the motionless pair before he went back to watching the others come through the gateway. “Breathing’s fine. Hearts are beating, strong and normal … more like a deep sleep than anything else,” he offered, but his focus was elsewhere, distracted, waiting to see Willow come through safely.
“Who the bleeding hell are you and what did you do with Avery?”
Both men whirled around to face the voice.
It belonged to a man with light brown hair, brown eyes, medium build and he was utterly forgettable except for the hand holding a gun steadily. He was pointing it directly at Giles’ head, until he took a good look at Spike and re-evaluated the risk, switching the business end to the blond.
“Let’s not be rash,” Spike spoke, hands up and eyes innocent, as if he could do no harm.
“Where is AVERY?!” he yelled.
Avery was just clearing the gateway and heard his name. He glanced up, saw the confrontation, and charged toward the house, a bull of a man. “Jacob, no!” he shouted.
The young watcher looked away from the two on the porch for a second, not long, but plenty of time for the vampire to reach out and snatch the pistol from his hand, cracking something in the process. Spike was unconcerned. It was the second time today that he'd had to disarm a gun-happy human and he was getting tired of it.
The man hollered, pain marring his features. “Bloody, fucking …” he grunted, holding his finger as he panted through the pain. Avery leaped the three stairs and was on the porch, crowding it with his large presence.
“Jacob, what happened?”
Jacob held up his hand, cradling his index finger. Spike just stared at him thinking he was certainly playing it up for the sympathy. “I – I think … he broke it.”
Two hundred plus pounds of cowboy flung around to glare at Spike. “Why’d you go and do that?”
Spike was unimpressed. Long gone were the days of his having to take shit from humans. Yes, he would protect them, the ones in this group and others if the situation required it and he felt so inclined, but he was not suffering from chip affliction anymore and stood toe to toe with the large man.
“He put a gun in my face. For some strange reason, I feel threatened by that sort of thing.” He flipped his coat back behind him and placed his hand in his hips, eyeing the man coldly. “If either of you do that again, I’ll break more than a bloody finger, yeah?”
The back door to the kitchen squeaked open and a tall, well-endowed girl appeared. She pointed the shotgun at Spike. “What the fuck is going on?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t anyone take me seriously anymore?”
~~~*~~~
Willow and Cordelia rushed up to where everyone was gathered. The big gun being leveled at the vampire brought them both up short of the stairs.
“Um, hey, I don’t mean to, uh, be pushy or anything, but the gun thing is not good and Spike didn’t mean whatever it was that he did or said and we just wanna get somewhere safe, so could you ...” Willow was walking up the steps and into the fray, right up to the really tall girl with the rifle. “Put that away and maybe try to talk this out?”
“We can talk. You explain and I’ll listen. Now start with why there are dead people on the porch.”
“They’re unconscious, not dead. I used them in a spell…”
“You’re a witch?”
Willow sighed, then frowned at Avery. “You were supposed to make sure nothing like this happened.”
Avery had the decency to look ashamed. “He,” he shot a thick, sturdy digit at Spike. “…broke Jacob’s finger for nothing.”
Spike just leaned against a screen wall of the porch, his expression telling nothing.
Shaking her head, Willow stared at the man who must be Jacob while trying to ignore the shotgun. “You did something to make him do it.”
Jacob sagged. “I didn’t know what was going on. Avery disappeared and I’m sitting here worrying my arse off when people start appearing from nowhere and I panicked, alright?”
“Hold it!” the girl yelled.
“Look, we’ve come a long way to find this place and no one’s going to hurt anyone.” Giles was tired and this was not the greeting he imagined. “Can we come inside? I’m certain we all have our doubts but I assure you, we don’t mean you any harm.”
The girl stared at the Brit for a few long seconds before lowering the gun and stepping back. “Yeah, come on in. We just can’t be too careful.”
Feeling like someone needed to be the ambassador of good will, Cordelia stepped up. “Hi, I’m Cordelia and this is Willow, Giles and Spike.” She stuck her hand out and smiled. It was one of those, I’m-running-for-mayor-vote-for me-smiles. She was good at those. She was also good at seeming ditsy and shallow, putting people off their guard enough so that she could get her way. Right now her way was a warm shower and a soft bed.
“I’m Carla,” she replied, shaking the proffered hand. “I think you know Avery and Jacob already.” She was looking behind them at the vehicles. “Just how many of you are there anyway?”
~~~*~~~
Angel sat in the kitchen area across the table from Wesley, whose burnt hand lay on the flat surface between them. It was bandaged now and would be healed in a few hours, but the older vampire was still unsettled, angry.
For his part, Wesley seemed mostly curious. Yes, the sun was an unexpected development and he now had a healthy fear of the yellow ball of hate, but now that the excitement was over, the new vampire was distracted by the odd sensations that his rapidly repairing flesh sent through his body.
“Willow should have known this might happen,” Angel grunted as he put away the first aid supplies.
Wesley wiggled his fingers, enjoying the small dose of pain this produced. “Don’t be mad at her, Angel. There are risks involved with everything we do nowadays.” In truth, Wesley wasn’t angry, but planned to play up his injury to gain some sympathy and maybe a taste …
“What if you couldn’t get back here quick enough, Wes?” Angel was older and could withstand being exposed to the sun for several seconds before his flesh started to sizzle. Wesley did not have that sort of strength that comes with age. Luckily, he was given a lot of blood when turned so the damage was not as bad as it might have been.
“Then I suppose you’d have to mourn over my dust,” he chuckled, blue eyes glistening and dark.
Angel grabbed him by the wrist and yanked, tugging the other demon over the table until Wesley’s mouth was inches from his. He did not turn his friend to see him dust. He meant to keep him forever now. “Don’t even joke like that.” Staring into those newly damned eyes, Angel was tempted, tempted to do all the things a sire did. Spike and Wesley were bringing this side of him out and it was frightening and freeing.
Kissing Wesley, claiming lips that were just learning what wicked could be, was foremost in his mind now, a burning need that flowed through Angel making his cock throb with that overwhelming desire to possess. Instead, he pulled back and stared at his new childe.
“Don’t mess with Cordelia anymore,” he told him.
Wesley gave his sire a prim glance. “Really, Angel. It was perfectly innocent. I promise”
“Right.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his massive chest, not buying any of it, and stared him down. Finally, Wesley relented.
“Well, I wasn’t going to actually hurt her. It was just … fun,” he smiled slyly now. “Watching her squirm, smelling that delicious fear…” he trailed off and then whispered, “You never told me.”
Angel frowned, not following. “What?”
“How they smell. How I must have smelled before. It’s positively brilliant.” His grin got big again. “Oh, I remember being very afraid of you. I used to tremble when you came near, although I fancied that I was hiding it very well, but you always knew, didn’t you?”
Nodding, Angel smirked. “So many times I wanted to eat you alive.”
“Yes, well, looks like you got what you wanted,” Wesley laughed.
Angel wasn’t sure if this was what he wanted for Wesley, but now that he was family, truly and absolutely, the older vampire was very content with the matter. But saying so would have to wait, as the door to the motorhome swung open and Cordelia peeked inside.
“Hey, Angel, you alright in here?”
“Why yes, Cordelia we’re fine. Thank you for asking,” Wes replied smoothly.
She rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him.
“Yes, we’re fine. Wesley just got a burn. What’s happening?”
She glanced behind her and then stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Well, the welcoming committee was making with the less than welcome and Spike broke this guy’s finger and everybody is all guns-are-good around here, but other than that things are okay,” she nodded. “Oh, but we haven't, like, explained about you guys being the very things that they are hiding from, but not actually evil … well, Wes is, but he doesn’t count … anyway. We’re gonna bring the kids in. You and Wesley should sneak out under blankets or something.”
Someone called her and she opened the door and yelled. “Just a sec!” Turning back, she assessed them both, Angel getting the benefit of her appraising gaze longer than Wesley. “We are trying to make a good impression, so Wesley, you don’t say anything remotely demony and Angel, try not to be a social retard.”
And then she was gone.
~~~*~~~
It was an old farm house, built in the late 50’s, but the interior had been remodeled somewhat recently. The Council had taken possession of it in 1984 and modernized the place to fit their needs.
Hardwood covered the floors, making it a noisy walk from the kitchen to the living room where everyone had congregated. Slats of sunlight, sneaking in through drawn shades, presented a neat obstacle course for the three vampires, but they traverse it easily. Spike had Ethan in his arms again and looked askance at Avery, who seemed to be the appointed diplomatic liaison.
“Oh, yeah.” The big man cleared his throat. “There are some offices down the hall here.” He led the blond and Giles, who was carrying Amy, to a room with a sofa.
“It converts to a bed,” he explained and hurriedly yanked off the cushions and pulled out the mattress part with a tired grunt. The morning hadn’t been as good as it started.
Spike was quick to dump his load and marched out without speaking to either human. Giles sighed and set Amy down next to Ethan. “I’m sorry about Spike. He can be …” demonic, malicious, ornery? “… impulsive.” He took two cushions and placed them between the sleeping figures. Waking next to Ethan might be a bit frightening for Amy and he wanted to be sure that his old friend didn’t get too cozy with the pretty witch.
“It’s okay. I’d be right pissed if someone took a gun to my head, too.”
Nodding, Giles was grateful for the man’s understanding. He was an adaptable sort to be able to absorb all this and still maintain a friendly veneer. “I’ll try to get him to behave. Meanwhile, I’d better tend to your friend’s finger.”
They left the room together and rejoined the group in the living room, only to find that the numbers had diminished greatly.
“Where are the children?” the elder watcher asked.
Cordy sat in an empty spot on the couch, squeezing between Willow and the blond vampire. It was either that or next to Angel and Wesley, who she was sure was going to bite her as soon as he had the chance. “Kyle and the others took ‘em up to go to sleep. It’s been hard for them and they were getting pretty whiny.”
Yawing, Spike put his arm around Willow, but his fingers were grazing the seers shoulder. “Could use a spot of sleep myself. I’m knackered.” He yawned again.
“Hey, y'all,” Avery spoke swiftly. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour later and get you folks settled instead?”
Everyone was quick to agree and trudged up the stairs behind the redheaded man.
There were five bedrooms. Trina was in one, unmoving and eerie. Avery avoided that room, but Willow shivered as she passed, feeling that the woman was more gone than there. Carla’s room was all the way down the hall on the right, so that was out as well, and behind the first door on the right he heard the sound of a kid crying and correctly assumed the younger folks had commandeered the large master bedroom.
“Okay. We have these two rooms and the one your friends are in downstairs. Jacob usually just bunks in his office and I can take a couch downstairs, too.
Angel looked grim. They were putting someone out of their bed, most likely this guy right here. “I don’t want inconvenience anyone. Wes, Spike and I can stay in the motorhome.”
“It’s no problem,” the man countered. This wasn’t his home so he didn’t really feel like any one room or space was his to claim. But he was sleeping in his father’s old room, and there was an odd comfort in that, but nothing he couldn’t give up in the name of being hospitable.
“No, I know, but there’s a lot of room in there, too. This way everyone gets a little privacy.” Angel could also make sure Wesley kept his fangs out of the population.
Not waiting to see what was decided, Spike turned on his heels and marched down the stairs, jaw working as he clenched it tightly in frustration. It was daylight, barely noon by the looks of things and he wanted a bed, but his noble, ass of a sire had just tossed away his chance of getting in a good days sleep, and more importantly, an afternoon of shagging Willow was completely out of reach now.
Suppressing a snarl when he saw Jacob talking to Giles, Spike stomped out the way he came in, stopping only to snatch one of the blankets Angel and Wesley had used. He covered himself with it carefully, but rapidly, and dashed to the RV where he could sulk in peace.
~Part: 43~
Milhan paced inside his tent. His booted feet crunched the gravelly soil as he made his way back and forth within his temporary housing. He was nervous, that was certainly part of the cause for his restlessness, but a good deal of it was pure annoyance. They had lost track of the Lamia and his clan. The Grorox was not necessarily interested in engaging the vampires and their witches soon, but he liked to keep his eye on the enemy. Their sudden disappearance from existence had been a hopeful sign, at first. A quick death for them all was merciful compared to what he would do to any of them given the opportunity, but he would take it over this option, them slipping off his radar. Something was definitely wrong.
In the confines of his tent he had performed a familiar ritual, summoned a demon, Aamon, to help him discover what the Lamia had done to deceive him this time. His gut still ached from the vampire’s attack and how he received the injury was a bruise to his ego. Clever, he thought, but Milhan was not without his own resources.
The wind blew outside, gathering force, causing the bottoms of the tent to flap around. Dust flew, scurrying across like a swirling cloud of smoke. Aamon was seated on the dirt floor gazing into a small puddle of water, seeing nothing. A distant howling cut through the air and the tribe of warriors could be heard whooping and cheering as they readied themselves for a hunt. Coyote was on the menu tonight if they were lucky. The demon ignored them, focusing on the muddy liquid in front of him, frustration blossoming. His abilities were great, but still limited while in this dimension. He was unable to get a fix on the lifeforces of the ones that Milhan had summoned him to find. But they were alive, that much he did know.
Turning his beaked face to Milhan, he probed the Grorox with his owlish eyes. “Why do you want them?” he croaked, sounding like a tracheotomy patient when speaking here, the air too heavy for his vocal cords. From what Milhan had divulged, the vampire had already proved to be a formidable opponent with resources that they could not yet match. The red witch alone was too powerful to measure. Aamon thought it best that they steered clear of them, but Aamon was not running the show.
Milhan shrugged and sank on the pile of blankets and pillows that served as his bed. “He won’t let my stealing those children from under his nose and killing them pass. Eventually, he and his despicable humans will come for us, when we least expect it, I’d guess. I just plan to expect it.”
The demon nodded and grabbed his tail, long and like the end of a serpent’s body, wrapping it around his hand absently, his attention back on the puddle’s murky water.
~~~*~~~
Cordelia pushed open the screen door leading from the back porch and stepped out into brightness. It was later in the day in this time-slipped place so the sun was high in the sky when she felt like it should still be early in the morning. Squinting, she made her way to the motorhome, shielding her eyes from the glare with a tan hand.
She yanked the door open and climbed up the stairs, stopping while she adjusted to the abrupt darkness.
A match was struck, the light of it revealing a pale face with blue eyes, cigarette dangling from full lips. “Peaches send you out to collect me?” he inquired through the smoke. He was certain his sire would not brave the day again until he planned to sleep, and there was too much wrestling of control to be done inside with the humans for the over-bearing vampire to get any rest. Spike had thought he was going to be free to mope on his own for hours.
Cordelia refused to acknowledge that he had frightened her. Her heart was jumping, but she played it off, knowing he would hear it anyway. He knew everything. No getting around that, but she was of the opinion that it didn’t matter what he knew, only what she admitted to.
“Nah,” she moved toward the back smoothly, past where he was sitting at the small kitchen table, the picture of poise. “He’s inside playing nice with the natives and making like Wesley’s not sizing everyone up for dinner. That guy’s all wolfy now. You should get him a leash.” Completely ignorant of the deviant thoughts Spike was conjuring while picturing Wesley in a collar, the object of his hunger slid the accordion door open, sighing as she spoke. “I need my stuff and then a shower and a whole lotta sleep.”
She stepped into the tiny bedroom and reached for the light switch, gasping when Spike pressed against her from behind. Any attempt to move away from him was hampered by his arm snaking around her trim waist.
“Stop it, Spike.” She didn’t have time for this. Well, technically she probably did, but that was not the point. He was not going to turn it on and off with her at his convenience.
“Where’s Willow?” he inquired, nuzzling into her neck, breathing deeply. He knew her scent well now, could track her across the continent. He froze. It was peculiar thought, but true nonetheless. If she was to want to leave them, leave him, he would hunt her down and drag her back. It was just a demon thing and he would have a lot of explaining to do, especially to Willow, but it didn’t change what was inside. His hands resumed roaming around her waist and hips.
Her heart was racing again, thudding through her back against his chest; maybe it had never really slowed from when he’d frightened her, and it tended to speed up when he was around lately anyway. “She’s … I’m supposed to get her clothes too. She’s waiting for them.”
Spike stilled once more, his nose pressed into the skin where her spine and neck met, his lips caressing where the bone protruded. “You’re lying.” He bit down lightly and she wiggled against him.
She was lying, however she wasn’t going to confess, not without proper motivation. “Why do you say that?” she asked, slightly out of breath.
Moving his hand to rest on her hip, he pulled her closer, grinding his growing erection into her as the bones in his face shifted, unmasking the demon. “When you lie, humans in general smell acrid. It’s an acute odor and gone quickly, like the false words themselves, dissipating with a bit of wind. But if a vamp has his very keen nose buried in your neck, he’ll know.”
Stinging sparks of pain shot through her as he pricked her flesh with razor sharp fangs.
“Spike…” She leaned back into him, giving up on pretending that she didn’t want what he could give her, do to her.
“Where is she, pet?” he asked again, his face back to human, placing small wet kisses on her ear before sliding down to lick at the blood trickling from the tiny holes.
Cordelia closed her eyes, her breath coming quickly. “Sleeping. Kinda passed out. Said she was really tired. From the magic, I think.” Her words came in little jagged spurts, whole sentences not an option. His hand snuck under the hem of her tee shirt, pushing her bra cup up and out of the way, and strong, calloused fingers caressed the underside of her breast.
He wanted her blood, maybe more, but for now that sweet elixir, spiced by her desire, was his main goal. She would let him fuck her, he knew it, could smell it all over her, but he was not as impulsive as he had once been. If Willow found out, he could spin this as feeding, just taking sustenance from someone who was willing and doing what he could to make it not hurt, make her want to do it again. But if he stuck his dick in this luscious girl, fucked her into the mattress, that would be taking things just a bit too far, not in his mind, but most unquestionably in Willow’s.
His musing, because he would never call it brooding, was interrupted, pleasantly so, as she grabbed his cock through the jeans, massaging his hardness, while turning in his arms to face him. They were nearly the same height, him just taller by a smidgeon, and he liked how she fit against him. Brushing her lips against his, she whispered, “If we do this, she can’t ever know.”
The last thing Cordelia wanted was to hurt Willow. But the first thing she wanted was sex, now, with Spike. The craziness of it had her nearly giggling.
That eyebrow of his went up, making horizontal creases in his forehead. Before he could question her sanity, she plastered her mouth to his and they sunk to the bed, each pulling frantically at the other's clothes.
~~~*~~~
After setting the bone in Jacob’s finger, Giles made a splint and taped it up securely. A few pain pills later, the man was resting peacefully on the sofa while the watcher took the opportunity to check on Ethan and Amy.
He walked into the office and stood by the door, just looking at them. They appeared to be sleeping and Willow hadn’t seemed overly concerned about them so he tried to calm his own unease. It was somewhat simple to do that with Amy; he hardly knew her. She had been a victim at one time in her life, of her mother’s twisted magic of all people, but later she was trouble all on her own and had helped Willow in her descent into darkness. At that time he didn’t blame the young witch; her life had been hijacked as well, but after the little stunt that she pulled this year he didn’t fully trust her. So her lying there, unconscious, was troubling, but not like the clenching, tight feeling he got in his chest watching Ethan. Surprised by this, Giles wanted to dismiss the latent emotions as wistfulness. The man represented home, a place that might now be wiped from the face of the earth, and Giles was homesick. Not in the traditional sense, but that grievous sinking feeling one had when something was lost forever.
“You always did have that voyeuristic streak, Rupert.”
Giles blinked and took a step closer, an odd rush of delectation flooding him instantly. “You’re up?”
Ethan shifted, trying to sit up. He collapsed, too weak, and settled for turning his head. “Not exactly ready to run a marathon, but I’ll live. Are you terribly disappointed?” The corners of his eyes crinkled with humor.
“You have a way of surprising me, Ethan,” was his ambiguous reply. He came over to the sofa bed. The urge to help his old friend sit up was strong, but he ignored it. The less he touched Ethan the better. Something inevitably happened when they got too close, violence, magic, sex … something. He had no reason to hit him, except for maybe causing him to be distressed, so that left magic and sex, which probably weren’t good ideas. “Can I get you anything?”
“Something for a headache?” Ethan brought a heavy hand to his head, rubbing his forehead. “And water would be nice. Your girl is quite the conduit.”
Grateful for the change of subject, even if he was the only party thinking that way, Giles agreed quickly about Willow and slipped away to get some pain killers.
~~~*~~~
“I was assigned to help Mr. Cronk monitor the formation of hellmouths. There’s one popping up every couple of months so we just notify the coven in Westbury and they handle it from there.” Jacob spoke with his eyes closed, feeling groggy and much better for the drugs in his system. He didn’t know what he was on, but it was good stuff in his opinion. “It was an easy job. Probably saved my life since I would have been in the London HQ when…” he trailed off, eyes still shut, done with the subject.
He and Avery continued to telling Angel, Giles and Wesley about what happened before they were cast into this other time. Wesley listened with demonic detachment, wanting to hear more about the bombing. Less than two weeks ago the subject of the Council’s destruction was a sore one, his feeling mixed and confusing. Ever-present was anger and resentment over how he was treated with regard to the debacle called Faith. She had been a bad penny and it had been his bad luck to have been her watcher. No one could have predicted that the girl was so volatile and if someone could, it should have been the psychologists that screened the potentials before any sort of training began. He did think he should have tried harder to reach her, cared for her as a person instead of a tool, but it was done now. Water under the bridge as he made very real progress toward being at peace with his past and those he thought had wronged him. Which was why he also had felt great loss. Some of those that died were in his class, his comrades, even his friends before they learned of his association with Angelus.
Now he only felt … mildly interested, and was hoping the topic would lead to talk of blood and pain and death, three things worth discussing in his opinion.
Angel kept an eye on him, observant as Wesley tilted his head back slightly and pushed out his bottom lip, thinking. He licked his lips and dark eyes followed the movement.
“So how’d y'all survive this mess? I’m thinking that little lady with the red hair was a big help.” Avery took a swallow of water while he waited.
“Yes, well, Willow ’s very useful to be sure.” Giles danced around the topic, unsure if now was the time to bring up the fact that two demons were sitting in the living room, but not actually living.
“Heck yeah, she is.” He leaned forward, the sofa groaning under the stress. “I was wondering, with all that power and such, can she conjure up a steak dinner?”
Angel grinned, understanding just how he felt. It would be heavenly if she could get some fresh blood for them as well. As it stood, not a lot remained of their supply.
Shaking his head, Giles smiled at the man. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Well, it does and she might be able to produce something to eat, but that’s not how we use magic. It’s very dangerous and, in the wrong hands, deadly, so we are careful.”
Avery frowned. “So if we all get rail thin and are on the brink of starvation, she can’t whip up some fried chicken and mashed potatoes and corn, real filling stuff?”
Now it was Giles' turn to frown. The man presented a good point. “Perhaps we should ask her.”
Carla had been standing off to the side, not participating, but the idea of real food got her attention. “I’ll go get her.” She headed for the stairs.
“She’s sleeping.” Wesley advised. He was always in tune to what Willow was doing. Right now her breathing was deep and metered, her heartbeat slow and strong.
Carla stared, wondering how he could know that. “She might not be, and if she can get some food on the table…” she started climbing.
“My food’s already on the table, getting cold,” Wes mumbled.
“What was that?” she slowed and turned to look at him, her heavy black ponytail swinging behind her.
He smiled amiably, letting his eyes warm for her. “Nothing. Go, fetch her. I’m positively starved as well.”
next | back