[Reviews - 30]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1391 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
I really appreciate all the e-mails I'm getting about this fic! I'm so glad people like it....
“There is no way in hell you will ever get me into that bloody contraption,” he said with steel in his voice.

“Spike,” Alanna said with exasperation. Stupid goddamned stubborn vampire. Exactly how did he expect to get around? And where did he get off making her sound like a petulant child?

“Never,” Spike insisted. He eyed the aluminum wheelchair with loathing. Memories of Dru’s defection and Angel’s mockery the time some soddin’ bint had dropped an organ on him swam before his eyes. Dru deciding that he was one of her little dolls, dressing him up and pushing him places, then leaving him helpless and stranded and the head of the stairs; being brought food by condescending minions; Angelus bodily picking him up and putting him in a prime position to watch Dru please her precious Daddy, Spike unable to escape. The anger and humiliation came rushing back with force, slamming into his body. God, he felt nauseous. A hand appeared on his arm.

“Spike? What’s wrong?” He jerked away, having forgotten Alanna was there. She looked worried, but he couldn't help it; his skin was on fire, her touch felt abrasive and bruising.

“I-I’m...sorry, I just...nothing to worry about, I’m fine,” he said gruffly, gently pushing her away. She looked at him skeptically. Bloody women, they had a way of trying to run his life. But he was not getting into that...thing. No bloody way.

“You’re not fine Spike. I get it, you’ve had bad experiences before, but I promise that no one will look at you with scorn or pity or anything like that. I promise, you’ll be in full control the whole time. And think of how nice it will to get out of this room and see the sun again!”

Spike stared at the loathsome chair and weighed his options. Alanna was, without doubt, one of the most stubborn slayers he’d ever laid eyes on; the likelihood of her giving up was not high. And the thought of being in the sun for the first time in over a hundred years was...well, tempting didn’t even begin to describe it. But the thought of being in that chair made his skin crawl and his vision to grey.

“The city is almost entirely wheelchair accessible,” Alanna wheedled. Spike snorted. Of course it was, this was a sodding Utopia. “Look, it’s either get used to the idea of the wheelchair for a while, or rot here in your room until you can walk again, which I’m not going to remind you is a ways off. Come on! It’ll be fun! Please, Spike? Pretty please with a giant, sweet, tasty cherry on top, with hot fudge and some pretty colored sprinkles?” Two dark brown puppy dog eyes pleaded with him to comply. “Or, I dunno, a bottle of Jack?”

I am well and truly buggered. Spike closed his eyes and fought back the influx of emotional turmoil that even the thought of being bound to the chair caused in him. So far, Alanna and the other Haven staff he’d met hadn’t given him reason to distrust them. They’d actually gone out of their way to make him feel comfortable, which was a whole other set of feelings he was also ignoring. This wasn’t the same situation as with Dru and Angelus. He wouldn’t be carried up a flight of steps by laughing, mocking minions, only to be left there because Dru’s pixies led her elsewhere. Alanna’s sanity wasn’t fleeting, and her attentions, as far as he could tell, weren’t fickle. And if what she said was true, then he couldn’t be stranded anywhere. Spike ruefully shook his head when he realized he was actually trying to convince himself the chair was a good idea. Eyeing it with distaste, Spike grunted out a mopey ‘fine.’ Before he could get his thoughts in order, Alanna picked him up and plopped him in the soft leather seat.

“Warn a bloke first, will ya?” he demanded in irritation. Had he been human, his face would’ve been bright red, just one more shining example of his pathetic weakness.

“Sorry. What can I say? I’m impatient,” Alanna said with an impish smile. He was sulking, his lips pinched and his eyes a steely, like a rebellious little boy. She decided it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Spike was busy fighting back the smile her infectious grin was trying to coax out of him; he didn’t smile, he smirked! He was a soddin’ vampire for chrissake! Honestly, the ease with which this slayer made him want to grin like a soddin’ idiot disturbed him a bit. She must have cast some sort of spell that turned him into a dopey git or something. “You ready?” she asked as they made it into the hall. Spike had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized they’d started moving.

“Ready? For what?” His questions were met with silence. “What...Oi! Woman! Holy shit!” Alanna took of at a dead run down the hall, as fast as her superhuman slayer legs could carry her. All Spike could do was hold on for dear unlife. Bugger, he’d had an entire city collapse on him and survived to tell the tale, only to be murdered by an overzealous slayer who didn’t know her own strength. The world spun around and he found himself facing the wrong way, heart in his throat. But it was strangely life-affirming. An involuntary, half-insane laugh forced itself out of him.

“See? Wasn’t that FUN?” He glared at the cracked-out slayer, but his eyes held an amused twinkle he couldn’t disguise and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Well fine then. Be boring and slow,” she said petulantly. He had to laugh at her absolutely adorable pout.

“Let’s go, pet. At a downright leisurely pace, if you don’t mind.” She stuck her tongue out at him before holding the door open, allowing him to wheel himself into the sun.

He instinctively flinched when the first golden rays touched him, expecting searing pain instead of the gentle caress. He looked at his hand, alight with the rays of the sun for the first time in over a century. He turned his hand over, observing how the shadows scurried across his hand as he moved. He looked up and saw the sky, cerulean blue with small white clouds darting across it and laughed. Joy invaded his soul, filling him, moving him; there were tears streaming down his face, seemingly at odds with the joyous laughter consuming him. He laughed until his stomach hurt and his face ached. He turned bleary eyes to his companion, and saw a few fat tears rolling down her own face, a soft smile alight on her plush lips. Spike decide if he couldn’t make this moment perfect by running around in the light, he could settle for second best. Motioning his guide to him, he waited until she was even with him before grabbing her head and kissing her with all the exuberance in his soul.

Alanna broke away with a delighted laugh, moved by Spike’s appreciation for something she often took for granted.

“Let's go pet! I wanna see the world!”

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***

Haven was stunning. Nested deep in the heart of an expansive forest, a sense of peace and serenity permeated every aspect of the city. Spike had been shocked when he first saw the sheer variety of different demons casually strolling down the streets alongside humans and their mortal enemies without a discordant word or evil look between them. Spike had nearly fallen from his chair the first time he’d seen a Faryl demon conversing with a Latesh about the best chair to accentuate his mate’s yellow-and-brown themed kitchenette, a human sales woman dropping in her two cents every now and then. At first glance it seemed like the Stepford of the demon community. Spike even had a wild thought that the Initiative hadn’t been destroyed, but were perfecting their chips and he was a giant experiment, a guinea pig in a gilded cage. But, with Alanna’s helpful and piercing observations, Spike began to get a sense of the flow and undercurrents of the city. Ancient rival demon clans still glanced sideways at their counterparts, and generally avoided each other, but it was obvious neither one would dare disturb the sanctity of this place. Everyone still seemed to gravitate towards their own kind or close allies, but there were still diverse, mixed groups all over the place.

The different shops that lined the streets catered to every possible desire, from esoteric magick shops, to a food shop catering to Prio Motu and Carnyss demons (whose fare was pretty much ground sludge with mildew), to an Arden B. A large 50s-style movie theater sat at the end of one street advertising the new Johnny Depp movie. Large parks were frequent, and they passed several community pools, though a few were filled with a blue-green gunk that resembled pond scum. Which it very well could have been.

And he was in the sun. It was warming his skin, heating him from outside in. Everything was brighter in the sunlight: trees, flowers, houses. It was epic. He imagined a beautiful golden goddess bathed in this sunlight, sprawled along the green grass in a skimpy bathing suit...better stop that line of thought now, mate, least while in mixed company. His stomach growled, and he remembered he hadn’t actually eaten anything yet today.

They stopped at an open cafe where they could eat and Spike could enjoy the sun. Alanna seemed to be well known here, and Spike had yet to see anyone use any form of money. Just one in a long list of questions about the place Spike wanted to ask her about. She handed him a glass of warmed blood and settled in to eat her chicken lettuce wraps.
He took a sip of his blood and nearly spit it out.

“Fuckin’ hell Elmo!” he yelled. She looked up, startled and alert. “This...this is human blood!” Her features relaxed, and she gave him a “Duh, Moron” look that seemed eerily familiar.

“Well...yeah. Doctor’s orders. You’re on a strict human-only diet for the next month. Supposed to help with the muscle-building process and tie up any loose ends you may still have. After that, you’re back on the animal stuff buddy.”

“I can’t drink this! It’s...I can’t...but...” Spike trailed off miserably. He was so confused. What the hell was going on? The blood he was sipping was all the same type, but it was a mix of several different people. He could...feel them. It was old, but not spoiled. Kind of like the blood he stole from hospitals that were just about to be discarded.

“Spike, all of it is willingly donated by the humans who live here. We keep blood stock-piled incase anything, ah, unfortunate happens to our human operatives. Haven didn't start as a city; it was started as a base of operations for some rather risky ventures. We’re giving you the stuff we can’t really use any more--not that that doesn’t mean we heart you less. I promise you, no humans were harmed in the heating of your blood.” Spike gave her a skeptical look. “Either drink it or starve, because you can go anywhere in the city and every single person will give you the same. Ah, the perks of having a magically-enhanced food processing center.”

Spike was bewildered. Stunned confusion seemed to be his default mode these days. But...humans, in the multiple, were donating blood so that he could heal. A vampire, a demon, a worthless thing who couldn’t even walk on his own. “What is this place?” Spike muttered. This was too surreal to even begin to process. He eyes his blood with mild distaste. He couldn’t quite say why he was so unsettled. And the blood tasted...wrong? No, not quite. It was more like...forbidden.

“Haven was originally, and actually still is, the base of operations for a very powerful group of beings known as the Minean Seek. You’ve heard of them?” Spike stared at Alanna. Just when he thought she couldn't drop any more bombshells on him...

“Cor, the Seek? The Seek, the fifteen of the most powerful entities to ever walk the earth. The people who manipulate the demon world like a game of chess. Burned Carthage back in the day. THAT seek?” What was that a blush creeping up Elmo’s pretty little neck?

“Ah, yeah, well, the Seek...as a whole...wasn’t exactly responsible...Carthage was...but that’s not important. You've got the right idea. Basically, the Seek contracts their services out, mediating disputes, stopping the errant apocalypse, minor stuff like that. They’re the Keepers of the Balance, so they don’t really take sides in the whole good versus evil thing. They have their own code of conduct...kind of like The Godfather. This is their city; it's mostly self-sufficient, and almost everyone here at Haven is, in someway, a part of Seek operations. So we only need a few things to really get by here. Necessities--food, water, shelter, and most personal items--are all free. Some of the individual shops take currency, especially the human franchise stores. Those are legitimate, taxes and all.” She produced a map from her bag of tricks with a flourish.

“So, this area right here” she pointed to the north “is where the heavy muscle live, the people who are a big part of Haven ops. This is the Big House, where everything is organized and most of the Seek live. Every operation is staged, planned, and organized from here. All the housing you see, sort of branching out in a circle, is for those who work directly with the Seek. This is our resident coven, you have any magical needs, just ask them. And this is what we call Slayer Central--the small attachment to the main house is the training facility, bunch of slayerettes running around there. Directly across the way is our resident vampire coven, and the rest of the apartment complexes are species-grouped by floors. You live in the only completely integrated complex.”

He didn’t know whether to bang his head on the table and cry or just laugh like a maniac. Slayer training? Demon theme housing? A vampire coven? What in the name of all things unholy would an entire coven of vampires be doing here? His head hurt.

“You mean to tell me this place, the poster city for nonviolence, has an entire coven of vampires?” he asked incredulously.

“Spike, you of all people should know that not all vampires are the same.” She let Spike absorb that for a moment, before picking up their dishes and returning them to the cafe. “Alright, let’s get you back to your apartment; you look like you’ve had enough dramatic revelations for the day. I don’t even want to know what you’d do if someone told you the Oracles had a summer home here.”

Spike felt a welcome numbness settle over him. This had been way more than a jaunt through the sunshine. So many different emotions and thoughts were swimming through his brain so fast that he’d stopped trying to process them. Slayers donating their blood so he could heal. Therapy. The wheelchair. Not being able to walk. And entire coven of vampires coexisting with humans and fighting for the white hats--a COVEN. These weren’t a few master vampires with minions nesting in an abandoned building by the docks. A coven was a group of at least three master vampires and their childer, living together in a coherent community. He was so wrapped up in his musings that Alanna lifted him out of the chair and into his bed without a single protest.

After she left, Spike was too wired for sleep, so he set about doing the only thing that truly distracted him from his racing thoughts: compiling a list of things he couldn't do. He couldn’t write or turn the pages of a book; he’d tried and ended up chucking the blasted thing when his temper snapped. He could barely manipulate the remote control to his TV. Hell, he could barely pull his own covers up. Spike slowly forgot the tumult of Alanna’s revelations, the joys of being in the sunlight, and a depression settled over his heart.

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***

Haven was silent and dark. Ominous and cold. Spike found himself at the same cafe Alanna had taken him to. The same thermos was on a picnic table, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles happily ‘Cowabunga’-ing, and he felt drawn to it. He unscrewed the lid and it started bubbling over, the smell of slayer’s life blood slamming into him like a wall. It was overflowing, spilling over the table, coating everything in its path, thick and sticky. It crept over the table and spilled down the bench, coating the grass, moving towards him. Spike frantically backed up, trying to escape the tidal wave of red. The panic was swelling within him, almost paralyzing.

Panicking, Spike realized he couldn’t move his legs. They were frozen and stiff. He fell over onto the ground. The swell of red was coming nearer. He could hear screams coming from the blood, see the faces of slayers staring accusingly at him as they died painfully. He tried to scramble backwards, but his arms couldn’t hold his own weight. He collapsed on the soft grass, sobbing in terror. It was getting closer.

“This is pathetic, Spike,” a deep voice said behind him. Angel. He laughed mockingly at Spike’s weak struggles. “Look at you William. Really, this is very very sad. I’m ashamed to claim you as mine. Can’t walk, can’t move, can’t ever keep the girl. Why are you still alive? You know, there’s really no reason for you to be here.”

Spike shook his head in denial. No, he was done living in Angel’s shadow, finished with his demeaning and hurtful words.

“Oh, Spike.” Hope filled him, the delicious feeling of love filling his breast. That voice. Buffy. His Buffy.

“Buffy, luv,” he pleaded, reaching desperately for her. She would help him, his Buffy. She was light and purity and goodness. She wouldn’t leave him stranded here, couldn’t even stake him when he was evil with a chip. And she had said it, that night, in the cave. Even if she didn’t actually love him, she had to care.

“He has a point, you know,” she said, seating herself on one of the picnic benches, jade eyes observing the tide of red hungrily lick at Spike’s feet. “You are kinda pathetic. I mean, come on. A baby could out crawl that.” Spike renewed his struggles with a feverish intensity, the viscous liquid surrounding his ankles. Screaming accusations rang in his head. He could feel the wetness of the blood on his calves. “You can always fight harder, be a little faster...but you’re always too late. Like the tower. You let me die, Spike.” He froze at her words. No. No. He’d tried, he’d tried so hard. He’d cried over her body, and cried when she’d returned. She said she’d forgiven him. She’d said! The blood was at his waist now, moving faster. “Goodbye Spike. Don’t worry, no one will miss you.”

Spike tried to scream, but the blood of a thousand slayers silenced him, filled his mouth and spilled down his throat. The world went black.

He was entombed in the remains of Sunnydale again. They were back, his demons, all of the people he had killed, glaring at him accusingly, haunting him. Anya was there, a long, thin line running from temple to waist. She looked at him with hatred and berated him for being too slow, for not saving her. Spike wanted to scream at her, ask her how he had failed her, but she was replaced by a sea of faces, his victims, surging towards him like the river of Slayer blood.

A bright white light shattered the darkness, scattering that assembled masses. Spike tried to avert his eyes from the sudden glare, but couldn’t. As his eyes adjusted, he absently noticed that the light wasn’t white; it was a blend of colors swirling together to form the most beautiful incandescent lightshow he’d ever witnessed. The darkness fled in front of it, skittering away. His terror was gradually replaced with a sense of peace and protection. There were figures silhouetted in the light, interrupting the dance of colors. Alanna was before him, next to a black man with inviting green eyes.

Leto the word was whispered into his mind by a symphony of voices. He decided that it fit. Spike marveled at their auras, a beautiful melding of black and gold. Leto grabbed his arm and pulled Spike out of the mire and into the colors.

Spike sat bolt upright in bed breathing heavily, the force of the dream pounding through his veins. Images flashed through his mind: the terrible river of blood, being caught underneath Sunnydale, a mesh of impressions and feelings and color. Fresh agony and fear ripped into him, and he stifled an agonized scream. He buried his heads in hands and began rocking back and forth to try and block out the images in his mind. He was so turned inward that he missed the gentle light that began filling the room as the peace he felt with Leto and Alanna in that luminous light was returned to him, seeping into his bones and calling him back to sleep.

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***

The light in the room slowly faded, each color coalescing and returning to the entity which created it. The fifteen immortal members of the Seek regarded one another.

“This will not be easy,” a raspy wooden voice proclaimed.

“He issss very troubled. He hassss known little kindnesss in life,” the Naga hissed, his thrashing tail the only sign of his discontent.

“But despite this, he has a good heart and a beautiful soul,” a third added, his voice a light tenor with a quality that defied his human façade.

“It will take time and dedication to undo what has been done.” The voice was a musical alto and held the secrets of the oceans.

“We must heal more than the body.” Murmurs of assent echoed through the chamber.

“What of the spell?” Silence met the question.

“The spell,” the Priestess said slowly, her blue eyes glowing slightly in the dusky atmosphere, “is partly his doing. A part of him does not want to remember, not yet. As long as he is stable, and nothing reminds him of...her...or provokes an emotional response, the spell could hold for some time. However, if he does come to break it himself, without proper handling and understanding, the results could be most unfavorable. Our work could come undone. I suspect the nightmares will continue.”

“The course is set,” a thick Russian accent slurred the words together slightly, “and we must deal with the consequences as they come.”

“We should delegate responsibilities now,” a lilting un-gendered voice murmured, “to allow our resources to center on the vampire.” Sounds of agreement floated through out the room.

“He will need two,” a willowy voice cut through the din. The entire assembly froze. When the Prophet’s eyes glowed red, the world stopped to listen. “There must be two to find success, two sides of a broken coin. The one shall guide the lost away from consuming rage and destruction. The other will heal the wounds of a childe. The whole will show the world that what was can be, and acceptance is the first step towards being accepted.” Her eyes returned to their natural state. “Do you understand?” The pair nodded. “His path will not be easy, and you must not give up on him, even when he gives up on himself. He will break into a million pieces in his quest to be whole. He will do great things if he believes.”

“Believes? In what? Himself? Good? ... Evil?” the woman asked. The Prophet shook her head.

“You are asking the wrong questions.”

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***





You must login (register) to review.