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Part 22: The Long and Winding Road




~~~~~~~~~~
"The long and winding road
That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I've seen that road before.."
~~~~~~~~~~



The vampire didn't wake slowly, but with a shout
and an upward lunge. It took him a moment to
realize that he was in restraints, but when he managed
to clear his head, he reacted predictably.

Spike sat in the chair, silently waiting for the tantrum
to be over. With his ankle crossed over his knee, and
his elbows balanced on the chair arms, he steepled
his fingers together and smiled.

The vampire finally noticed that he wasn't alone. "You
think this is funny?"

Spike shrugged. "I think it's hysterical. In another moment,
I'll be rolling on the floor, unable to contain my laughter."

The vampire looked around the room, his eyes wild with
fury. "Where the fuck am I....and who the fuck are you?"

Spike shook his head. "First things first," he said. "Do
you have a name?"

"Fuck you!"

"Tsk, tsk," Spike sighed. "Uncooperative even in the
midst of your....current predicament." Leisurely rising
to his feet, he crossed the room and opened a drawer
in a large oak bureau.

"What are you doing?" the vampire asked warily.

Spike didn't answer. He merely removed a small glass
bottle from the drawer, then closed it up again.

Turning to face the bed, he held the bottle up so that
the vampire could see it. "Don't make me open this,"
he warned the vamp, his tone deadly serious. "I'll only
warn you once."

The vampire eyed the container of holy water, then
strained at the chains binding him.

Spike uncapped the bottle and held it out over the
vamps face.

His captive tried to duck away, but one small drop
of the deadly water hit his face, right at the hairline. It
sizzled and the vampire muttered a muffled word.

"Pardon?" Spike asked, tilting the bottle again.

"ANGELUS!" the vampire shouted. "My fucking name is
Angelus!"

Spike was honestly surprised. "You must be kidding,"
he said. "What in the world is angelic about you?"

Even in his obvious distress, the vampire looked in-
sulted. "The face, you idiot! What..are you blind?"

"Unfortunately, no," Spike sighed. "Fine...Angelus. I'm
going to tell you why you're here, and what you have
to do if you want to leave in one piece."

Finally surmising that he wasn't going to be released
just yet, Angelus settled down.

"One hundred and thirty six years ago," Spike began, "you
played a little game with the Carmelite Sisters of the
Sacred Heart of Jesus."

"The who of what?" Angelus asked sarcastically.

Spike was getting tired of the bullshit. He leaned closer
and spoke again in his deepest voice. "Don't fuck around
with me, Angelus. You have no idea how close I am to
losing control. I need something from you, so that I can
get off this son-of-a-bitching island and back to my bride. Now,
you can give me what I want willingly, and leave in relatively
good health, or...unwillingly, and not leave at all. Choose
which you prefer, but believe me when I say...I WILL have
what I want from you, one way or the other."

Angelus scooted up as far as his chains would allow. "Get
back to your bride? She's not here?"

"No. She's not here."


~~~~~~~~~~
"It always lead me here
Leads me to your door.."
~~~~~~~~~~


"Some vampire YOU are," Angelus sneered. "Can't even
keep your mate with you."

With a huge effort of self control, Spike continued. "Do I
need to refresh your memory again?" he asked, holding up
the bottle. "Get back on topic."

"Look," Angelus replied. "I played a lot of games at a lot
of different places. I've been around for over two hundred
years. You can't expect me to remember all of them."

"I'm not asking you to remember all of them. But, one
hundred and thirty six years ago...in London...you had a
grand old time with the novices at Sacred Heart. You made
a habit of grabbing them out of the confessionals when they
thought they were speaking with a priest." Spike paused. "Ring-
ing any bells for you?"

Angelus produced the look of a man looking back on very
sweet memories. "I remember that. I was good at it. For
about three years, I hit just about every convent in England
and Ireland." He looked at Spike. "So, what's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me," Spike said. "Ancient history...except for
one thing."

"And that would be what, laddie?"

"One of the novices that you sired, sired me a year later."

Angelus grinned. "Gave you a good siring, did she? Well,
you don't have to thank me. Happy to be of assistance."

Spike glared at him. "Does it look as though I've brought you
here to thank you, you stupid git?"

It was taking every bit of control he had not to break off one
of the bedposts and smash it through the other vamp's heart.

"Well, then what the fuck do you want with me?" Angelus
narrowed his eyes. "And how did you get me here?"

The question made Spike smile a little. "That's an interesting
story. When I located you, I sent two of my minions to go after
you and bring you here."

The vampire finally began to make the right connections. "Is
this...oh, fuck. This is about that girl...the one that's dying.
Isn't it?"

"Her name is Drusilla, and you are her sire," Spike said. "And
yes, she's dying. I brought her here because there's a warlock
here who can cure her. He has everything he needs...except for
the blood of her sire. Now, THAT'S where you come in."

Angelus shook his head. "That's where I go out," he countered.
"I already told your boys. You're not getting shit from me."

"I don't need shit," Spike said. "I need blood. Your blood. A lot
of it."

"Not a chance, boyo." Angelus jerked at his chains. "Not a fucking
chance!"

There was a pause, then Spike said, "I'll give you a few minutes to
think about that answer."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the bed chamber,
leaving Angelus to rage alone.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it. "Soon, baby,"
he murmured. "Soon."


~~~~~~~~~~
"The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day

Why leave me standing here
Let me know the way.."
~~~~~~~~~~



"Is he awake?" Lysander asked, without looking up
from his book."

Spike nodded, falling into the opposing armchair, and
covering his face with his hands. "He's awake...and he's
a huge pain in the ass."

The warlock chuckled. "Uncooperative, I take it?"

"That's putting it politely." Straightening up, he dropped
his hands and looked over at his only hope. "Is every-
thing ready?"

Lysander nodded. "Yes...except for Drusilla. It's time
you told her everything." He looked at Spike over the rim of
his spectacles.

Spike knew it, and he wasn't looking forward to the con-
frontation. Even as sick as she was, Drusilla didn't like
sharing her toys.

But the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he'd be away
from this island prison, and the sooner he could go home to
Buffy.

He needed her so badly. Needed to feel her arms around him,
her warm, young body pressed tightly against his as she
whispered her shy endearments in his ear.

Leaning back against the headrest, he turned to see Lysander
studying him rather intently. "Tell me this is going to
work," he pleaded.

Instead of answering the question, Lysander closed his
book. "And what will you do if it doesn't? Put her out of
her misery with a nice, sharp piece of wood?"

Spike looked away. He couldn't say that he'd never think
of doing such a thing. Desperation, when it went on long
enough, could make anyone do the 'unthinkable' , and his
desperation to return to Buffy could easily force his hand.

"If...it doesn't work," he asked haltingly, "how long would
it be until she..."

"Dies?"

Spike nodded.

"Who knows? Maybe weeks...maybe days...maybe only
hours or minutes," Lysander said with a shrug. "I've tried
the augurs, tried to see her destiny...but it was useless.
Her mental processes wouldn't allow it. You see," he
leaned forward in his chair, "she's unstable, so her destiny
changes from moment to moment."

"But that's not my fault!" Spike said defensively. "I didn't
make her the way she is. I've tried to help her. I took care
of her for more than a hundred years." He lowered his
voice. "I don't know how much longer I can do it. I...I
need to go to..."

"I know where you need to go," Lysander said calmly. "To
the one you left behind. Without her, you feel...incomplete."

"No." Spike shook his head. "Without her...I AM incomplete."


~~~~~~~~~~
"Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried
Anyway, you'll never know
The many ways I've tried

And still they lead me back
To the long, winding road.."
~~~~~~~~~~



"I see. Well, tell me this; does Drusilla know that this
girl, this...other girl...is the Slayer?"

Spike didn't bother asking how the warlock knew that
Buffy was the Slayer. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "If
she does, she hasn't mentioned it."

"Hmm." Lysander mused. "A vampire in love with a slayer.
THAT'S one for the record books."

"I suppose."

"Well," the warlock said, rising to his feet. "I'll be below.
You let me know when she's prepared."

Spike watched Lysander leave the room, heading for the
stairs that would take him down to his laboratory.

A few moments later, he rose and headed for the
main staircase.

Freedom was so close he could taste it.


~~~~~~~~~~
"You left me standing here
A long, long time ago
Don't leave me waiting here

Lead me to your door..."
~~~~~~~~~~

TBC...
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