Alec, as if climbing a long staircase, slowly came out of a deep sleep and into a state of drowsy awareness. He became aware of details, the sun shining on his face, the sound of people talking in the next room, the smell of Willow. This last observation caused him to open his eyes and, as he did so, he became acutely aware of the soft touch of Willow's body, pressed against him. He turned to regard his sleeping paramour with deep care and love. For a moment, he felt no guilt about his feelings toward Dawn. That he felt a strong sense of affection and protectiveness to the younger Summers sister was undeniable, but this, this feeling of bliss and contentment, this belonged solely to Willow.
Gently, he reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear; she smiled and made a contented sound. Her eyes slowly opened to regard him tenderly.
“Hey, you,” she whispered.
“Hey back,” Alec replied.
“Last night was really horrible,” she said in a tremulous voice.
“I know.”
“I never want to see something like that happen to you ever again.”
“Nor do I.”
The uncomfortable moment lasted for a while. Willow’s lip quivered slightly and Alec feared that she would cry…
…and then she grinned that irrepressible grin, child-like in its combination of innocence, mirth, and glee.
“Then let’s make sure it never does!” she said simply.
Alec laughed as he rolled over onto his back with his hand clapped over his eyes.
“Agreed, love.”
There was a knock at the door.
“One sec!” Willow called out.
“Oh, goodie - company,” Alec said with a groan.
Willow smacked his shoulder lightly. “None of that mister, you are going to be both friendly and social,” she insisted.
“Can’t I just be one or the other? I can be very friendly so long as I am not required to actually speak,” he lamented.
“No, now come over here and be nice.”
Alec growled, pulled the blankets over his head, and rolled over, offering his back to his lover.
Willow huffed in frustration at her lover’s stubbornness as she shifted her attentions and called out to the door, “Come in.”
Xander entered, tiptoeing in an over-emphasized manner that had Willow grinning.
“How is he?” Xander inquired gently.
“He’s fantastic, next stupid question,” a snarled reply rang out, though not from Willow.
Willow rolled her eyes slightly.
“He’s a little cranky,” she explained in a condescending, parental tone.
“I was mauled and set on fire. How about a little understanding for the guy that lost his bloody skin?” came Alec’s reply.
Xander considered this. “Actually, I would say more ‘extra-crispy’ than ‘bloody’,” he commented with a grin.
Willow looked slightly mortified, but then again, she was intimately familiar with her childhood friend’s twisted sense of humor.
“Sod. Off. Wanker!” came Alec’s reply. Both people in the room could actually hear the words being spat out between gritted teeth.
Willow sighed quietly. She hated it when he got like this; grim and humorless and just way too intense. Fortunately she also knew how to fix it.
Her tone became pleading and soft. “Alec? Alec, please, don’t be mad, Xander was just making a joke.”
Alec’s responded by curling up even tighter under the blankets, doing his absolute best to ignore her.
“Alec? C’mon. Come be with me. I miss you.”
By now, the sound of gritting teeth could be heard audibly in the room.
Willow moved in for the kill. “Pleeaaaaassse?” she said in her most adorable voice, the one that always worked on him.
With something akin to a sigh and a cry of frustration, Alec whipped around to face her. Her face was a perfect study of a pout: lower lip jutting out, eyes wide, eyebrows arched slightly to form an inverted “v” on her delicate face that always made her look endearing to the point no longer supported by the laws of reality.
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeaseeeeee?” she said again, her voice and eyes filled with longing, hope and affection.
Alec uttered a string of words that, had his father heard them, he would have been convinced it was his duty as a parent to wash Alec’s mouth out with soap, half-demon or not.
“Does that always work with everyone?” Alec demanded, shooting a look at Xander.
Xander shook his head ruefully. “Remind me to tell you how I lost my entire comic book collection,” he lamented before dragging a chair over to sit by Willow, who was tending to Alec.
Some of the color had come back to his face, and the lines of pain had eased, but, as he sat up, he winced in pain and nearly gasped.
Willow nearly leapt from out of bed and took Alec’s hands in hers.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Willow asked, reaching up to stroke his face. He caught her hand and kissed it.
“Extra-crispy,” he replied dryly. Xander laughed.
“Yeah, well, you don’t look half as appetizing as a bucket of original recipe,” Xander said, grinning.
Willow shot him a mildly offended look. “Speak for yourself, Alexander Harris. I think he looks very yummy.” She informed him sternly before turning back to her lover with a flirtatious and slightly hungry expression.
Alec gave her a disbelieving look. “You’re a rotten liar, woman,” he replied sardonically. He tried to swing his legs off the bed and get up, but his strength gave out and he collapsed, nearly tumbling off the couch, until Xander and Willow caught him, helping him down into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress.
“Slow down there, chief, you’ve had a busy night,” Xander chided gently. Carefully, he helped Willow ease the injured man back onto his stomach.
“Yeah,” Willow put in, “don’t make me kick your ass.”
Alec arched a sardonic eyebrow.
“Well, don’t make me get Buffy to kick your ass,” she amended.
Alec snorted and coughed before relaxing against the pillows. “Are they all safe? Dawn, Buffy, Joyce?” he asked worriedly.
“They’re fine,” Willow soothed, “a little grimy around the edges, but fine. I’ll have Buffy come pay you a visit as soon as she gets out of the shower.”
And then, like a British tsunami, Spike burst into the room.
“Here he comes to save the day!” Spike sang out incredibly off-key and grinning.
He dropped into a chair on the other side of the foldout mattress, resting his elbows on his knees as he leveled a finger at Alec.
“I selflessly donated my best scotch in order to nuke the little buggers that had taken refuge in your worthless hide.” Alec chuckled as Spike continued his tirade.
“So you’d best be compensating me. If I’m anything even remotely resembling sober come New Year’s due to a lack of quality booze, I’m coming for you, mate.”
Alec groaned and folded his hands over his head. “Honey, turn the noisy man into a newt, would you please?” he implored.
Willow turned and, pointing a finger at Spike, began chanting in Pig Latin.
“Ix-nay asty-nay ampire-vay,” she said with a maniacal cackle.
Spike drew back alarmed. “Knock it off, Red, I mean it,” he growled and rose to leave, grumbling. “Sacrifice your best booze for a bloke and he sics his black-magic woman on you in gratitude. It bloody well figures.” Muttering to himself, and trying not to let show how happy he was that his friend was okay, Spike left the room.
Alec shook his head and smirked. “One-track mind, that one: sex or booze,” he commented dryly.
Willow smiled, her lips curled in a lazy gesture of seduction. “Oh, yeah, and what’s on your mind?” she purred.
Alec turned to regard her, aghast, and exclaimed, “You’re not serious!”
Willow just nodded. “Xander, can you excuse us for a moment please? I need this man to tear all my clothes off,” she stated, sweetly.
Alec’s eyes widened. “Xander, if you ever held me as your friend, I beg you - do not leave me alone with her!” he cried.
Xander just laughed, still amazed at Willow’s bravado, and held his hands ramrod straight in front of him, Frankenstein style.
“Must. Obey. Witch. Cannot resist. Will not my own. Must obey,” he spoke tonelessly, rising to his feet like an automaton.
Willow laughed as her childhood friend lurched zombie-like away from the couple. She then turned to regard her helpless mate. Slowly, she licked her lips, savoring what was to come.
“But what about me having a busy night? And needing to get my strength back? And the whole ‘I lost my bloody skin’?” he protested meekly, though a slow grin was starting to creep across his face as he rolled gingerly over onto his back to regard the beautiful woman with amusement. By his expression, it was clear that the pain had diminished, even from just a few moments ago.
Demurely, she gently straddled his hips, mindful of the fresh bandages they’d applied right before bed. Reaching into her pocket, she removed an item that she’d taken the time to retrieve from her dorm room; taken from a box right next to her jewelry box.
“Oh, I’d say your morning’s about to redefine ‘busy’ for you,” she promised in a husky whisper, tearing the wrapper off with her teeth.
Alec laughed in disbelief. “Where in the world did you get tha –” He was abruptly silenced as her mouth covered his.
A few moments later, he didn’t care anymore.
Buffy, toweling her hair dry, tentatively knocked on the door to the back room, where Xander had left looking slightly dazed.
“Alec? Willow? Are you in there?” the blonde slayer asked.
No reply. She knocked again.
“Go ‘way,” came Willow’s voice through the door.
Buffy frowned. “Guys? What’s going on?” she asked.
“Physical therapy. Very conducive to the healing process,” Alec replied.
Buffy heard Willow giggling quietly. A slow grin spread across Buffy’s features and she shook her head, laughing softly. A stray memory clicked; her mother’s telepathic confession of exactly what had happened between her and Giles during that candy incident.
“He SO takes after his old man. A regular stevedore,” she commented. Still laughing to herself, she left the lovers to their ‘therapy,’ which, oddly enough, kept the both of them occupied for quite some time.
Alec rolled over and sighed lazily, awash in a sea of endorphins as Willow made herself cozy next to him, lifting his arm (she was far too weak in the limbs to do it herself so Alec helped) and, wrapping it around her shoulders, rested her head on his chest. Their hair matted to their heads, coated in a thin sheet of sweat, they looked at each other… and, in a drowsy, post-coital bliss, grinned.
“What’cha thinking about?” Willow whispered in sleepy curiosity as she took his hand in his, kissed it and pressed it against her face, cradling her cheek in it.
Alec smiled. “I’m thinking about how I have this amazing woman very much naked on this somewhat lumpy fold-out couch-mattress-“
“Mmm, I think we worked most of the kinks out, hot stuff,” Willow interrupted with an impish grin.
“May I continue, please?”
Willow made a zipping movement over her mouth, which was difficult to do with that grin she had plastered on her face.
Alec didn’t quite pull off a convincing appearance of being annoyed as he cleared his throat and resumed speaking,
“As I was saying, I’m thinking about how I have this amazing woman, who is currently very much naked, on this horrible, though considerably less lumpy, couch-mattress, …” Willow’s grin got even wider at that bit, “…that I happen to love very much,” he finished, grinning his crooked grin.
“You love the couch?” Willlow asked in mock confusion.
“No. I love you.”
Willow smiled and closed her eyes, savoring his words. No matter how many times he said it, it still made her heart shiver in delight. She leaned in and gently kissed his mouth and Alec reached up to stroke her face, inhaling her scent.
The couple parted and shifted positions, now resting their faces against one another and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, their eyelashes entwining.
Butterfly kisses, Willow had once called them. She smiled perkily.
“Ask me what I’m thinking about,” she requested demurely. Alec stretched out an arm, and wrapped it around her; the red-head quickly nestled against him, resting her face on his shoulder, staring up into his face.
“Okay, what are you thinking about?” Alec asked with a smile.
Willow grinned and picked up the top of the sheet, peeking underneath. “I’m thinking how I have this amazing man, VERY much naked, on this not really all that horrible couch, who I happen to love more than anything in the world.”
Alec smiled and closed his eyes, deeply touched.
She leaned forward to kiss him, when suddenly, her stomach gurgled loudly, protesting the fact that they’d slept through breakfast. Willow blushed and Alec laughed, earning him a playful swipe from the red headed witch.
“I’m thinking it’s time for breakfast,” Alec commented wryly.
Willow covered her face with her hands, mumbling in agreement and laughing self-consciously, her face turning the same color as her hair in mortification.
Smirking, Alec stroked her hair, whispering, “It’s okay because…” without warning, he jerked the sheet up over his head and dove under it to kiss her bare stomach, “…I love your noisy stomach too.”
Willow shrieked and batted at his head under the sheet. “Hey! You leave my noisy stomach alon – Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise; a surprise that quickly melted into a deep purr of pleasure. Alec was definitely NOT just focused on her stomach anymore.
“I guess we can postpone breakfast a little longer,” she conceded, breathlessly. Biting her lower lip in amusement, she yanked the covers over her head to join him. Much giggling and various other sounds of delight soon ensued.
Finally, Alec emerged from the back, clad only in a pair of black jeans and the bandages still on his back. Quietly, he padded into the shop area and smack dab into the outskirts of an argument.
“I’m telling you, B, there was something fishy going on with the skipper and his ‘little buddy’,” he heard Faith declare. Buffy’s response was a snort of disbelief.
“You’re deeply disturbed, Faith, you know that, right?” Buffy responded. “There was absolutely NOTHING going on between Gilligan and the Skipper. Gilligan was lusting over Ginger. Anyone with half a brain could see that!”
Alec sighed, relieved. While chances were the two were far from being close, they did seem to be on the road to reconciliation. He stepped into full view of the slayers, who were seated in front of a small TV, which was currently showing, not surprisingly, a rerun of “Gilligan’s Island.” Alec met their nearly identical looks of deep amusement with his inherited ‘stiff-upper lip’.
“Top of the morning,” he greeted.
Buffy snickered and got to her feet, walking over to him.
“Try ‘bottom of the mid-afternoon’ there, bro,” she said with a toothy smile. “Busy night?”
Alec got a stupid looking grin on his face. “Well, …” he began to say and then decided to let it trail off as he rubbed a hand up and down the back of his neck modestly, and didn’t meet her gaze. His face colored slightly.
Buffy cackled in glee, sharing a moment of sibling confidence.
“You animal!” she exclaimed.
Alec placed a hand over his face. “She started it,” he mumbled through his hand as a way of defense.
Buffy continued to chuckle as she patted Alec’s arm. “Sure she did,” she humored him.
Alec glared at her, and then began to chuckle himself. “There is coffee somewhere here, right?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
Buffy nodded. “Right there, over on the hotplate,” she indicated, pointing.
Alec made a desperate lurch for the pot of instant cure-all. “Thank God,” he muttered, pouring himself a mug full of the lukewarm liquid and taking a long pull from the cup.
Buffy just shook her head, mock disapprovingly. “We really need to talk about this caffeine dependency of yours, Alec, it’s not healthy.”
Without stopping to put the cup down, Alec gave her a dirty look as he nosily drained the contents of the cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lowering the mug slowly away from his face, he extended a finger on the other hand to point accusingly at the slayer.
“This…” he mumbled around the last mouthful of coffee before swallowing, “…coming from the woman who, last month, pulled an all-nighter fighting Tockra demons and then decided to drink an entire pot of espresso so she could be coherent enough to take a final exam, only to wind up having to run to the bathroom every fifteen minutes?”
Faith laughed at this. “Way to get in touch with your inner Starbucks there, B!” she teased.
Buffy shot her a nasty look and snarled. “Faith, go back to pondering how a coconut radio works, and try to remember that the nice people in the flickering box aren’t actually talking to you, okay?”
With a smirk, Faith turned her attention back to the T.V. and continued watching the show.
Alec grinned, but then the expression slid straight into confusion as he scanned the room. “Speaking of ‘nice people’, where IS everyone?” he inquired.
Buffy explained, counting off on her fingers. “Spike and Angel headed back to Spike’s place to wait out the day, your dad went back to his house to check on my mother and Dawn, oh, and he’s also planning on stopping at the science lab on campus to see if he can’t get his hands on a microscope so we can take a closer look at those parasite thingies we pulled out of your back,” Buffy made a face at the memory then continued, “and Xander and Anya snuck out of here around five this morning, I’m guessing to go back to Xander’s place.” She shot him an insinuating glance before concluding. “My guess is it had something to do with that bag of goodies he picked up at the drug store last night.”
Alec snorted. “No bet,” he replied dryly.
With a mirthful expression, Buffy headed over to a table with a large plastic bag on it, and held it up for Alec to see.
“Here’s a change of clothes,” she explained as she put the bag down and walked back over to Alec. “Let’s take a look at those wounds, huh?”
“Yeah. Okay,” Alec conceded with a sigh, putting the drained coffee mug down as he turned his back to Buffy.
She bent over and examined the bandage then looked up at him. “How do you want this: slow or quick?” she asked him.
Alec frowned and began to reply, “What are yo –”
Without warning, Buffy tore the bandage off her brother’s body in one swift motion.
Alec swallowed a scream and squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you, sis, that was… cool,” he gasped in a strained voice, blinking back tears of pain and exhaling hard. “That’ll wake you up in the morning,” he commented dryly with a shaky smile.
Buffy studied the freshly healed skin. The wound in his shoulder had all but vanished. “Well, you look good to go,” she announced as she straightened and leered playfully at him. “Willow must really have the healing touch.”
Alec nodded emphatically. “You have no idea,” he replied with a little smirk and scratched at the newly healed flesh.
“Thank you, Claus Von Bulow,” she referenced with a roll of her eyes, then suddenly swatted at his hand. “Don’t pick at it, it’ll never heal.”
Alec regarded her as if she had gone insane. “You did not just say that,” the young man insisted.
Buffy shrugged. “Says you. Besides, I’ve just always wanted to say that,” she smiled and patted his arm before thrusting the bag of clothes into his chest.
He took the bag stoically, giving her a patient look. Gingerly, he pulled out a black t-shirt, which he quickly pulled on and then removed a folded black duster from the bag.
“Best Dad in the world. Doesn’t forget a thing,” he whispered affectionately to himself. Putting the duster aside, he padded back to the backroom door and knocked.
“Lover? You up and about?” Alec inquired tentatively.
A groggy voice answered, “You’re not coming back into this room, unless you’re bearing coffee,” the voice growled at him.
Buffy laughed and went to pour another cup. Alec took it gratefully from her, trying his best to ignore the barely-constrained hysterical laughter all over her face, and he smiled sheepishly.
“She’s not a morning person,” Alec offered as an explanation. “Or an afternoon person for that matter,” he added thoughtfully after a moment’s consideration.
“COFFEE!” the voice on the other side demanded, promising dire repercussions if her wishes were not carried out.
Starting a little, Alec opened the door just enough for a slender white arm to snatch the coffee mug from his grasp and close the door in his face. He turned back to Buffy whose shoulders were heaving silently in mirth.
“She’s really NOT a morning person,” he reiterated.
Buffy burst out laughing for what seemed like the umpteenth time this morning. It was good to have her brother back.
“Obviously,” she smirked and gave him another sympathetic look before her eyes wandered down to his feet. “Good luck getting your shoes,” she added.
Alec looked down at his bare feet and groaned. “Thank you,” he responded dourly. Girding himself, he knocked on the door tentatively. “Uh, … love?”
“Further negotiations will ensue only with a steady infusion of caffeinated products,” Willow informed him through the door. It opened and the slender arm reappeared, dropping the now-empty coffee mug into Alec’s hands. The hand made a gesture of dismissal before retreating back into the room and closing the door.
At this point Buffy was howling with glee, earning her nasty looks from Faith, who was still trying to figure out just what were the implications of the term ‘little buddy’.
Ten minutes, (and two or three cups of coffee later) a fully clothed Alec sat at a table talking with Buffy, Faith, Willow, and his father, who had just gotten back. Giles had set the Summers women up in a fairly nice motel about a block from here. Wards of signaling and protection had been placed, so, in case there were any further attempts on Dawn, everyone would know and could reach them before the magical enchantments were breached. The shopkeeper also had hung a sign on the front door of the store, claiming that it was closed for the day for cleaning.
Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them. “I must say, Alec, Dawn was really quite upset when I told her you weren’t quite up and about this morning,” he informed his son, replacing the glasses upon his face and pushing them up onto the bridge of his nose with a look of paternal amusement towards Alec. “I daresay your heroism last night left quite an impression on the young woman.”
Alec shrugged uncomfortably and threw Buffy, who was pouring over some sort of demonology book, a look.
“It’s a phase, it’ll pass,” he mumbled.
Willow took this opportunity to look up from her laptop and tease him. “Hmmm, maybe I have competition, then? Perhaps I’ll just have to turn her into something icky,” she joked as she made a face.
Even though Alec was fully aware that she was joking, a rush of something… aggressive and dark filled him and he gritted his teeth to keep from barking out an angry retort. “Some other time, all right, dear?” he tried to joke back lightly.
Willow smiled unaware of her lover’s suddenly roiling state of mind, and went back to the translation program she was working on in order to decipher the book Alec had taken from the Mayor’s office.
Alec turned his attention back to his father. “I’ve got a bit of a radical suggestion,” the young man declared. Giles frowned in concentration, focusing on his son as the latter spoke. “I think that Buffy and I should go down into the sewers and try to track this thing, if we can get rid of it, everyone will be a lot safer.”
Giles shook his head. “That’s terribly risky, Alec, in close quarters like that, and given the fact that we have no idea what it is that attacked you.”
“So it’s better to stay here and wait for it to take another shot at us?” Alec retorted, fire in his voice. “To blazes with that, I say we go down there and incinerate anything that shambles and oozes that shouldn’t.”
“Son, try to be reasonable-“
“I’m tired of being reasonable!” Alec roared as he got to his feet. “Reasonable ended sometime between being nearly having my ribcage squeezed into paste and the third-degree burns!
As everyone else was looking at Alec in shock, Giles, very calmly, took off his glasses and began to clean them again before responding.
“I understand that last night was extraordinarily traumatic…” Giles began, “but we do not have even the slightest idea of what is down there.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” Buffy interrupted. Hoisting the book up, she placed it down for all to see, pointing to an illustration of a creature made of slime and rotted vegetation. “That’s what played Santa Claus of the sewer at my place last night. I knew I’d seen a picture of it somewhere,” she told them.
Giles leaned forward to study the description. “A… golobulan,” he read frowning. “It says here that a golobulan is a greater servant of the forces of rot or decay. They’re also known as ‘Abominations of Golobulus’.”
Buffy frowned. “Who – or what – is Golobulus?” she asked.
Giles put a finger to his lips thoughtfully, before rising from his chair and scanning a bookshelf, searching.
“I know I have it somewh – Ah ha!” He exclaimed as he pulled down a large tome, carrying it back to the table and depositing it the center with a thump!
Buffy leaned over to study the title. “ ‘Codex Borbonicus’?” she read from the cover and looked up at the Watcher, frowning.
Giles opened the massive book as he explained, “The art of the pre-Columbian cultures of the Americas sometimes included something called a codex, which was a manuscript on which they illustrated stories, usually of religious or cultural significance.”
“Like those illustrated kids’ bibles they have at Sunday school?” Faith asked. Four pairs of eyes lifted in unison to regard her in stunned disbelief. “What? I was raised in Boston: bible-thumper capital of New England. I did a brief stint as a catholic school girl,” she clarified defensively.
Alec and Willow went back to paying attention to Giles. Buffy was still having trouble wrapping her mind around that little tidbit of information.
The older man found the page he was looking for and gestured to it, continuing to speak in what Buffy had affectionately dubbed ‘Watcher Mode’.
“This page, here,” he gestured to a large illustration, “shows the Aztec gods Tezcalipoca,” he pointed to large man with green and red feathers, “and Quetzalcoatl, in the form of a green serpent devouring a man, here,” he indicated a large, green snake eating a man.
Buffy leaned in to get a better look and made a face. “That looks unpleasant,” Buffy commented as she sent Faith a dark look. “Remind you of any former employers, Sunday School Girl?”
Faith snorted and ignored the comment.
Giles calmly, but with a glare that looked to be carved from ice, raised his head from the book slowly, and made eye contact with each of the slayers. They quieted themselves immediately as he continued.
“It’s been put forth by anthropologists that stories such as the one recorded here may relate the importance of human sacrifice in Aztec religion, as well as to the Aztec legend that Quetzalcoatl, the exiled god, would one day return to rule the Aztec people."
“Okay, now for the sixty-four thousand dollar question,” Buffy asked, “was Quetzalcoatl a nice little deity that loved and cherished his followers and wanted nothing more than peace and love in the world, or was he ‘other’?”
Alec scoffed. “Given the fact that this shows him eating a guy, I’m leaning towards ‘other’”.
Giles nodded absent-mindedly, but he was paying very close attention to the sibling byplay as he continued to lecture.
“Actually some historians believe that the whole story of Quetzalcoatl is based on the exile from Tula, of a priest-king also named Quetzalcoatl in the 10th century,” Giles leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “It was rumored that Quetzalcoatl was exiled for practicing forbidden rites and communion with unnatural powers.”
“Like this Golobulus?” Buffy asked.
Giles nodded. “Precisely, after his banishment in the 10th century, Quetzalcoatl headed north into what would later be California. Once there he assembled a cult of followers and began preaching the teachings of Golobulus.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what was Golobulus associated with? What was his thing?” Buffy asked with a sigh.
“Rot. Corruption. Decay, both physical and spiritual,” Giles replied instantly.
Buffy sighed again. “I knew I was going to regret it,” she lamented.
Alec spoke up. “Hang on,” he turned to Buffy, “do you remember, just before that thing showed up, that weird smell?”
Buffy nodded slightly. “Yeah like gas or methane.” She looked up at Giles suddenly and asked, “Isn’t methane caused by stuff rotting?”
Giles nodded. “Yes, during the stages of decomposition of organic matter, methane is released.” He scrutinized the young woman. “You… actually paid attention in biology class, Buffy? How on earth did that happen?” he asked in amazement.
Buffy ignored him as she turned to Alec, continuing. “And when it exploded, the thing lit up like the Fourth of July.”
“It was doused it in kerosene first, but still, that wouldn’t attribute it exploding like it did,” Alec replied carefully.
Buffy nodded. “Yeah, it went up like a big, rotten flambé,” she confirmed as she turned back to face Giles. “So, this is what, some kind of ancient Aztec god we’re dealing with?” she asked incredulously.
Giles shook his head. “I don’t think so. Remember what Dracula said regarding the Hellmouth? He told us that it had spread its roots far into the ground. Maybe it had spread all the way into central Mexico, and what Quetzalcoatl encountered was, in reality, a portion of the Hellmouth. Perhaps that’s what Quetzalcoatl, in fact, came to know as ‘Golobulus’ and that is what he built his religion around.”
“Why go to all the trouble of attracting new followers, when you can con your way into acquiring a pre-assembled flock?” Xander commented darkly as he shook his head, squeezing Anya’s hand. “Clever.”
“Diabolically so,” Giles agreed.
“So, let me get this straight,” Faith started. “This guy Quetza-whatever runs into something he thinks is this god of rot, Golobulus, but actually is the Hellmouth. He starts worshipping it, he gets caught and booted out, and he heads up to sunny California and starts it all over again?” she finished, looking a little pale. “This is one twisted M.F.”
Giles frowned. “ ‘M.F’?” he queried.
“Yeah, Rup, one twisted motherfu –”
“Faith!” Buffy interrupted. “Thank you, we get it,” she stated as she turned back to Giles. “So, after this Quetzalcoatl got his little cult together, only this time closer to the Hellmouth’s home turf, what happened next?” she asked.
Giles cleared his throat and continued to read aloud. “Well, it says here that he and his followers engaged in several profane acts: including human sacrifice, ritualistic torture, bodily mutilation, visceral interc –”
“We get it, Dad,” Alec interrupted, exhaling hard. “Sick, bad man. So, what happened to them?”
His father shook his head. “It doesn’t say. It just says that sometime in the early 11th century, Quetzalcoatl and his followers were wiped out. No one knows by who or how,” he shook his head, puzzled.
“Uh, guys?” Willow chimed in; she’d been silent through the whole discussion. “I think I can help you with that.” The others rose from their seats and huddled around Willow's computer screen. She gestured to it. “I just got done translating the book that Alec got. It wasn’t written by pilgrims, it was written by –”
“ – the order of San Miguel,” Giles finished, leaning closer to the screen, peering at it intently.
Willow looked at him slightly miffed. “I was going to say that,” she said, her voice laced with wounded pride.
Alec smiled indulgently and kissed her head. “Good work, love, you get a cookie,” he assured her.
Willow swiped at him lightly with her hand. “Well I WAS,” she pouted.
“So, who was the order of San Miguel?” Alec asked.
Everyone leaned in closer to hear as Giles cleared his throat and explained.
“Michael, who, incidentally, wasn’t a saint, but the archangel of – amongst many things – battle, was an order devoted to the extermination of demonic creatures. Theologians have long claimed that it was he who cast Lucifer out of heaven during Lucifer’s war on God.”
“ ‘Now war arose in heaven,’ ” Faith began to quote. “ ‘Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, but they were defeated and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole earth – he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.’ -- Book of Revelations, chapter twelve; verses seven to nine,” she finished and noticed again the stares of shock she was receiving. “My Sunday school teacher was a Harvard hottie, so I was big on class attendance,” she offered as an explanation with a shrug.
Shaking her head in wonder, Buffy smirked in disbelief as the others continued to listen intently. “If he was such a hottie, why’d you stop going?” she asked.
Faith counted off on two fingers. “Two things. One, I hit puberty and decided Sunday mornings were better spent recovering from Saturday night, and two, a little thing called a vow of chastity,” she said wistfully, “which is a shame, really. I’ve heard that priests are great on their knees,” the dark-haired girl added with a wicked grin.
Buffy closed her eyes. “Scarred for life. Thank you, Faith,” she said with a sigh.
Meanwhile Alec was, at this point, nearly delirious with laughter. “Priests! ‘Good on their knees!’ ” he howled, laughing so hard that tears sprang from his eyes. “Bloody Hell, if I live to be a thousand, may I never forget that one.” Reaching over, he gave the still-grinning Faith a high-five.
Willow looked up at him, puzzled. “I’m not sure I totally get it,” she ventured mildly.
Gasping for air, Alec put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll clue you in later, sweetheart, let’s get back to the matter at hand.” He composed himself and cautiously regarded his father, who was looking at them all with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Alec immediately turned back to the computer screen, but not before flashing Faith another appreciative grin.
Giles cleared his throat, making that clucking sound in his throat that everyone knew translated into ‘I’m too British to yell at you, so I’ll be forced to kill you if you do not start behaving yourselves.’ Once everyone settled down, he began to speak.
“Yes, well, the order of Saint Micheal, was made up of crusaders: Holy warriors, paladins, I suppose, both very strong and very fierce. They traveled around the world, battling enemies of the church, but, unlike those who fought in the Holy Crusades,” Giles held up a finger to emphasis his next point, “the order of Saint Michael slew only humans that were completely devoted to the service of otherworldly evil or such creatures as demons and vampires. Contrary to the vast majority of religious orders during that time, they were not interested in converting other cultures. They simply hunted down and destroyed infernal creatures. Now, the history is a little sketchy but it mentions here,” he added, pointing to the computer screen, “that the order broke away from the church completely near the end of the Forth Crusade after the sacking on Constantinople in 1204.”
Buffy frowned. “Wait a minute, if these guys were such bad-ass priests, why would they ditch the church?” she asked, bewildered.
Giles pursed his lips in thought. “Perhaps their code of conduct could no longer condone the church’s actions during those centuries of war,” he offered, straightening up from peering at the computer screen. “I can only theorize, but it’s not unreasonable to believe that the Order came to regard the church as a corrupt institution after they sacked Constantinople, their own city. It’s possible these men believed the church was more interested in increasing its base of power than protecting its followers from demonic forces.”
“Yeah, imagine the church only looking out for its best interests and not caring who got burned at the stake along the way,” Willow jeered. Several pairs of eyes turned to regard her curiously as she blushed. “Sorry, witchy prejudices at work here.” She looked over at Giles, apologetically. “Continue, please.”
Giles resumed, definitely looking like he may just hex the whole lot of them into silence so that he could finish getting this out.
“In any case, the Order of Saint Michael followed a code called Via Caeli, which roughly translates into ‘Road of Heaven.’ Apparently, this code taught them that it was not only their obligation, but their holy duty, to combat the forces of evil. And it would seem they were very, very good at their job.”
“Pretty hard to fight fanatics, especially the ones that come equipped with equal parts brains and fervor,” Alec pointed out.
Giles nodded in agreement, indicating to everyone assembled that his son was exempt from his father’s frustration with the constant interruptions.
“So, what happened? The God Squad ran into our boys from Mexico and proceeded to lay the smack down on them?” Buffy joked.
“It would appear so,” Giles answered. “Unlike the rest of the church, they did not believe that sorcery and witchcraft was inherently evil, but rather a tool that could be used for either noble or sinister purposes.”
“Yay for the order of Saint Michael!” Willow cheered. Alec stroked her head affectionately, as always enjoying her sudden bouts of extreme cuteness.
There was a sudden, deafening crash, causing everyone to jump and spin round.
Anya, who had been leaning too far over the table and had managed to knock a stack of books to the floor, was glaring at everyone fiercely, hands on hips.
“Uh-oh,” Xander groaned, taking in her posture and knowing instantly what it meant - his girlfriend was not pleased.
Anya didn’t even seem to notice the pile of books on the floor as she began to yell. “Oh come on, all of them were murderous, holy fanatics! They did nothing but hunt down nice, innocent demons and cut off their heads or stick swords into them! They all needed to die horrible, screaming deaths. Every last one of them!”
Her tirade had managed to stun all those assembled into silence.
Xander recovered first. “Uhh, ... Ahn? Is there something you’d like to get off your chest?” he asked mildly.
“It frightens me that there might be more,” Alec countered.
With a frustrated growl, Anya began to hike up her shirt.
“Anya!” Xander cried. “We talked about when is ‘good naked time’ and when isn’t. This isn’t.”
Anya glared at him and lifted her shirt up to expose her stomach and a long, angry looking scar.
“I got this back in the 11th century during the sack of Jerusalem,” she began, “Your ‘holy warriors’ were slaughtering everything in sight: men, women and children. Not that I had a problem with that, mind you, I was there punishing an unfaithful wine merchant – ” Anya suddenly turned her head to focus on Xander, “ – he’d been caught with two tavern wenches and a pirate,” she explained.
“Moving along, baby?” Xander suggested.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Anyhow, there I was, completely minding my own business and you know, making this merchant swallow everything he sold,” again she paused, thoughtful. “You know, I bet he wished that he sold fruit, instead of armor, after the first ten minutes of that.”
“ANYA!” everyone cried out.
“What?! She snarled back defensively before she got it. “Oh, right! The nasty men in the armor. Anyhow, there I was, minding my own business, when one of these people stick a flaming sword through me. And of course, being doused in holy water, I got to have a big, ugly scar for the rest of my life, which I don’t need to tell you-”
“But you’re going to anyway,” Alec interrupted.
Anya glared at him. “Which I don’t need to tell you,” she continued, “is a very long time to have a huge gash on your stomach.” She gritted her teeth and added, “And that is why I can’t wear a two-piece.”
“I thought you said that scar was from falling off a motorcycle back in the ‘50’s,” Xander argued, “and that you didn’t wear two-pieces because they made your butt look big.”
Everyone at the table winced at Xander’s tactlessness, but Anya simply shrugged. “That too,” she stated. “Anyhow, they were all jerks.”
“In any case,” Giles continued with a sharp glare at Anya that the ex-demon pointedly ignored, “the order, apparently, was skilled at more than just combat. Sorcery, herbalism, alchemy, even some very basic astronomy and metaphysiology: all learned from the Muslims of that area, many of whom were academics. The knights of this order were scholars as well as warriors and it also states that most of them were highly skilled in the medicinal arts. They often served as healers or apothecaries during outbreaks of disease, much like the Knights Hospitaller. In cases of leprosy, it’s said that an acolyte of San Miguel could heal a victim of said disease, using a combination of medical knowledge and the rite of ‘Laying on hands’.”
“‘Laying on hands’?” Buffy reiterated uncertainly.
“Faith healing, B,” Faith chimed in. She then began to address Giles, “I dunno, Rup, between the fanaticism and the sorcery, I’d say they sound a lot more like the Knights Templar.”
Giles shook his head. “No, the allegations of black magic against the Templars were nothing more than a ploy by the church to seize their assets by King Phillip and Pope Clement the Fifth, in the year 1307, so that they could pay off their debts and secure more power for themselves,” he said heatedly. “The Templars are not, and never have been, associated with demons-“
“No kidding,” Anya bit out.
“Let me finish,” Giles growled, momentarily losing his trademark composure and causing everyone to exchange looks of concern as his resumed.
“These allegations were false, and all confessions admitting otherwise were obtained under extremely questionable circumstances involving an inordinate high amount of duress involving torture. They were betrayed and abandoned by their own superiors and it has been a blot on history since then.”
“Wait a minute, didn’t the Vatican come across the Chinon Document which clearly stated that the Pope had actually absolved them of any guilt in 1308 and only recanted due to the influence of that king?” Faith argued and then frowned. “And what do you mean by ‘The Templars are not, and never have been, associated with demons?’ They got axed and the last of their leaders was turned into a charcoal briquette a few years later,” Faith finished flippantly.
Giles’s face grew dark with anger and he opened his mouth to speak before Buffy intervened.
“Okay, not important right now who screwed whom seven hundred years ago,” she stated. There was a pause as everyone calmed down before Buffy addressed the other Slayer, “And how the hell do you know all this?”
“Hot Sunday school teacher, remember?” Faith repeated.
‘OH,’ Buffy mouthed silently, shaking her head in disbelief at Faith’s newest insight.
“Out of curiosity, Dad,” Alec jumped in. “How was the order founded?”
Giles, having now regained his composure, focused on the computer screen.
“Well, it’s impossible to get a completely accurate answer,” he explained. “The legends range from a saint with divine power, blessing a squire who eventually would establish the order, to a knight who received visions and had been branded a heretic by the Church, to the actual archangel Michael himself, handpicking people and training them in the art of battling demons.”
Faith whistled low. “How do I sign up for THAT program?” she asked, impressed.
Giles shook his head. “Apparently, one cannot do so any longer,” he gestured again to the screen as he spoke, “there’s no mention of the order after the thirteenth century. All that remains is a footnote, mentioning that sometime in the mid-thirteenth century, the entire order mobilized to confront a nameless evil that resided…” Giles’s voice trailed off, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Good lord,” he whispered, stunned.
“What, what is it?” Buffy demanded.
Alec leaned over to read the text as Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly agitated.
“The entire order mobilized to confront an unspeakable evil that resided La Boca de la Inferno, – ” the young man read aloud. He then shifted his glance to regard his sister gravely.
“ – In the mouth of Hell.”
“The Hellmouth!” Xander yelped, having calmed Anya down by this point. “The order took on the Hellmouth.”
“And they were never heard from again,” Willow put in. “Okay, it’s official, I’m having a wiggins.”
Alec placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, which was meant to convey more confidence than he actually felt at that point.
Giles rubbed his eyes and replaced his glasses upon his nose. “They were no less than five score knights that went to face the beast,” he was frowning in consternation as he read, the group hinging on his every word, “there was only one survivor, a young knight, named Esperanza,” he stopped and faced everyone. “Apparently, the order considered the sexes equal under the eyes of God, and thus had both women and men serving within their ranks.”
Xander smiled a little sickly. “Heh. Well, you know, a knight gets lonely,” he joked. The joke fell flat.
“How progressive of them,” Alec stated dryly. “Now get to the part where they were all slaughtered.”
Giles continued to read aloud. “It says here that Esperanza was driven mad from her experience. Accounts are unclear, but apparently, she spent her last remaining days in a madhouse, raving about…” he squinted in concentration, “… quote, ‘a cathedral of flesh’ and ‘beasts that grew in the belly of the dragon’ end quote,” he shook his head in dismay. “And then she cut her wrists and scrawled some sort of message in her own blood before dying,” he finished, looking a little sickly himself.
Buffy swallowed audibly. “Nice,” she croaked. “Any idiot can use a Bic, but in your own blood, that’s really something.”
“What was the message?” Alec asked quietly.
Giles took a long time before he responded. “Her last words were ‘In Vita. In Vita et Digestium en Carne de la Terra.’ ”
Buffy closed her eyes and said, “Yet another thing I’m certain I’m going to regret asking; what does that mean?”
“ ‘It lives. It lives to devour the meat of the world,’ ” Giles responded.
“I hate being right all the time.”
A long silence passed.
“Isn’t anyone else freaked?” Xander asked.
“Yes!” everyone said in unison.
“Glad I’m not the only one,” Willow mumbled quietly.
[Reviews - 33]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 1265 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for posting so late - technical issues for this chapter!