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Ashmedai led Spike and Giles down into the bowels of the temple. Since neither he nor Spike required light to see in the darkness, they kept Giles between them so as not to lose him,

“Ow!” Giles cried out as he tripped in the pitch black corridor, colliding into Ashmedai. He felt hard, leather-like skin against his face, a flutter of wing and then he felt strong hands carefully hold him up,

“Thank you,” Giles said into the oppressive dark,

“You are welcome,” the golem replied before continuing on. They progressed perhaps 20 meters or so then turned left down another passage,

“I am stopping now,” Ashmedai warned the blind man. Giles got the hint and slowed then stopped, Spike doing the same.

“A blind watcher, you have to appreciate the irony,” Spike quipped,

“Thrilled beyond words at your satirical acumen, Spike,” Giles replied.

“Eh?”

“It means ‘shut up’,”

Spike chuckled, “Ah, okay then mate, why didn’t you say so?”

There was the sound of a heavy lock being undone and an even heavier door being pushed open. A rush of cold air spilled into the black, Giles shivered as the taste of something metallic entered his mouth. He could smell, now above the musty scent of the stone corridor, antiseptic and metal.

“Step forward please, and brace yourself,” Ashmedai warned before moving off to the side. For a moment, Giles was alone in the dark, panic set in,

“Spike!” Giles called out. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeeze reassuringly

“Steady on mate, he’s just stepping to the side to get the light,” Spike assured him. Giles nodded,

“Yes. Thank you,” Spike snorted,

“Besides I can’t wait to tell Alec how you’re scared of the dark, yet more irony,” Spike put in. Giles sighed and smiled in the dark,

“Step forward now please,” Ashmedai’s voice rang out. Giles took a step forward as the light from a small wall mounted lantern ignited

Revealing a full scale laboratory.

“Now all this place needs is a hunchback,” Spike observed and Giles could hardly disagree.

Metal hooks hung from the ceiling. A large metal bed was suspended as well. Several books lined the walls with titles like “Gray’s Anatomy” and “Morticians Desk Reference”. Vials filled with blood and other less savory fluids bubbled. A vat of fat cooked on a small burner, tallow burned away at the surface of several half-formed candles. Prints of Da Vinci’s works on anatomy including a life-size “Vitruvian Man” hung on the walls with handwritten notes scrawled upon them. Giles peered at them, then shuddered: blood stains and bits of flesh and hair also clung to the sketches. It was cold in this room, no doubt for tissue preservation and Giles rubbed his hands up and down his arms to stay warm.

“Oy! What’s this do?” Spike asked gesturing at a lever.

“No! Wait, Spike, don’t!” Giles cried out but it was far too late. Spike pulled down the lever and with the sound of metal squealing, gears spun crazily, chains rattled and with a crash, the metal rack that hung upon the ceiling plunged down crashing to a stop at waist height suspended by gory chains. A wave of decay rose up from it and crashed upon Giles; he bent in half choking and heaving at the scent of death and rot that hung from the blood-soaked apparatus. Spike whistled at the sight,

“Bloody Hell. Someone was busy on this thing,” he turned to Giles who was still coughing up bile, “You all right mate?” Giles waved him away as Spike approached the rack,

“Gods,” he whispered in awe and not a little of his own horror. It consisted of two parts, a metal rack, shaped roughly like a sarcophagus and a second part which fit atop it, the ‘lid’ Spike thought.

The rack was lined with barbed hooks, no doubt they dug into the flesh of the person put in there to keep them on their back and still. Leather straps at the wrists, chest, waist, knees and feet further immobilized the subject while some kind of two-piece metal clasp came out from the underside of the bed to lock the throat down. Then the lid probably came down and that was that.

Spike leaned over and sniffed, “It’s old blood,” he confirmed.

“Yes,” Ashmedai added, “It is,” Spike turned to the patchwork beast.

“Yours?” Spike asked though he already knew the answer. Ashmedai nodded, “You will, I trust excuse me. Being here is unpleasant,” Spike waved him away,

“Yeah, sure, bugger off, no worries,” he replied. Spike turned, “You on your feet yet?” Spike asked as Ashmedai padded away, his massive horns scrapping the doorframe. Giles nodded,

“Yes, thank you,” Giles replied, he was leaning heavily on one hand palm against the wall his other hand holding his glasses limply at his waist, swallowing deep breaths of air and trying not to heave from the smell coming from the gory rack. When he looked up he frowned suddenly, focusing on something upon the wall,

“What you got there, mate?” Spike asked. Giles frowned and ran his finger over a spot on the wall; something about it bothered him. It took a moment but he got it: it was the only portion of the wall that wasn’t stained with blood or dust.

“I’m not sure,” Giles replied putting his glasses on and peering at it, frowning. Gently he pressed in with his thumb. And with an audible click, the portion of wall over his thumb depressed and the wall slide away. Giles stumbled backwards in surprise, Spike catching him before they both peered at the newly-revealed room.

A desk with some books, a chair, a trunk, really not much more than an oversized closet converted into a study. Giles had to step sideways to get to the desk. Lying upon it was an old leather-bound book, roughly the size of a paperback. Giles picked it up and opened it, examining it,

“A diary,” Giles confirmed, opening it and peering inside,

“What’s it say?” Spike asked. Giles frowned,

“I’m not sure, it appears to be written in Hebrew. Let me see here,” he sounded out a few words, Spike looked at him curiously,

“You bringing something up mate?” he asked. Giles sighed,

“It’s an Aramaic base as opposed to Anglo-Saxon which is Latin,” he pointed to some numbers, “These are dates, which is what revealed that it was, in fact, a diary,” Giles turned the pages from right to left, something that Spike found odd, Giles caught the look,

“It’s a language that’s read from right to left, backwards in contrast to most Western languages,” Spike nodded,

“Yeah, all right so what’s it say already?” He asked impatiently. Giles frowned at a single line of Hebrew written in black ink stark against the white inside cover,

“ ‘Ata Bra Golem Devuk Hakhomer VeTigzar Zedim Chevel Torfe Yisroel,’” Giles sounded out.

“And what the Hell does that mean?” Spike demanded. Giles frowned in thought,

“It’s a line of text from that story regarding the Golem of Prague. It’s what God supposedly said to the Rabbi who was responsible for the Golem,” Giles gestured at the text, translating “ ‘Make a Golem of clay and you will destroy the entire Jew-baiting company,’” Giles explained, “It’s considered the catch mark phrase of the myth of the Golem,”

“Better amend ‘myth’ to ‘fact’ mate, horn boy over yonder didn’t claw his way out of his mum’s womb looking like that,” Spike put in,

“So it would seem,” Giles responded as he continued to examine the diary further, “This is the diary of the rabbi. It seems to be dated back a few years. The beginning entry…” Giles voice trailed off.

“Yes?” Spike queried.

“My God,” Giles whispered to himself.

“And for those of us who are not bloody psychic?!” Spike yelled. Giles looked up,

“The first entry discusses the death of his eight year old son, heart failure,” Giles replied, “I believe that’s why the rabbi began delving into necromancy and reanimation, he wanted to bring his son back,” Giles gestured to a passage, “Look here, ‘Each cell burns with a new life which apparently lends an unnatural capacity to the body as a whole. This tensile strength may in part aid the body in trapping or retaining an appropriate animating spirit or essence,’” Giles looked up at Spike, “He was trying to bring his son back from the dead,”

“Yeesh, that’s pretty…psychotic,” Spike commented,

“Become a father first, then judge,” Giles retorted. Spike sighed and nodded,

“Yeah all right point, so what happened next?” He asked eager to change the subject, Giles kept reading,

“It talks here about first working with stone, apparently the rabbi at this point in time wasn’t willing to cast off all of his religions teachings about necromancy and kosher behavior yet,” Giles frowned, “It reads that the stone creature he created was ‘three widths of a man and nearly ten feet tall’” Giles brow furrowed deeper with concern, “It doesn’t say whether or not he was successful in animating the stone golem, all it reads is a quote from Shelley “ ‘Power; like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanical automaton,” Spike stared,

“What’s that from?”

“Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab, III,” Giles replied before turning the page, “Here it begins discussing…oh,” Giles trailed off looking downcast,

“What?”

“It’s discussing the murder and reassembling of Kohen,”

“Right. Okay. Bad. Let’s skip that then, shall we?” Giles nodded and continued on,

“Good lord,” Giles whispered. Spike didn’t even bother, simply glaring at the other man. Giles looked up,

“The last entry, speaks of encountering a strange creature who could ‘fashion flesh as clay,’” Spike gaped,

“That Dahaka thing Alec tangled with?”

“It’s certainly very likely. Apparently the rabbi entered a partnership with it in the hopes of using its fleshcrafting to create a better golem or possibly repair his son,”

“Yeah, instead, ol’ Moses had his skull scooped up and his face used like a discount Halloween mask,” Giles nodded,

“It would certainly appear that way,” Giles tucked the diary in his pocket, “This bears further-“he stopped. Spike frowned,

“What is it?” he asked. Giles shook his head,

“I’m not sure…something,” he sniffed a few times then peered at the trunk.

“Spike would you please drag this out?” he asked. Spike nodded,

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” taking hold of it he dragged it into the laboratory. Spike winced, “Smells like someone who shall remain lifeless has forgotten to do his laundry,”

“I don’t think its dirty clothes, Spike,” Giles gestured at a heavy padlock on the latch, “Can you handle that?” Spike took it and twisted, the latch ripped away from the wood, nearly dropping him on his backside. Dumbfounded, Spike stared at the intact lock then back to the ruined latch,

“Ummm, yeah, no problem,”

Giles stepped over the vampire and opened the chest then gasped.

Inside was the perfectly preserved body of a small eight year old boy. So perfectly tended was his body that it looked like he was merely sleeping,

“The rabbi’s son,” Giles breathed, “But that’s impossible, this body is in perfect condition, yet it must be several years old,” Giles leaned over the body, peering at the inside of the lid, “No refrigeration equipment-“

And without warning the child opened its eyes, a hideous bright pink and hissed at Giles. Giles tried to stumble away but the child lashed out with unholy speed, its child’s hands no longer ending in fingers but ten whip-like tentacles that wrapped around Giles’ head and dragged him closer.

“SPIKE!” Giles screamed out from underneath the greasy folds of grasping skin.

“Holy Christ!” Spike yelled and came running over trying to pull Giles away from the hideous monster. The child creature turned its head towards Spike, glittering pink eyes filled with bestial hatred as its lower jaw split into two portions, left and right, his soft palate folded up over his nose revealing a trilateral jaw filled with teeth and snaking out a long black tongue that opened at the middle and hissed at them,

“Bugger off!” Spike snarled lashing out at the creatures malformed face with his fingers. The creature howled in pain and brought his tentacles over his now ruined eye socket. Spike dragged Giles away and looked at the pink goo on his fingers in disgust,

“Bloody hell,” he muttered then turned at the hissing sound that came from the trunk.

The creature, its head split open and filled with teeth, ruining the appearance of the sleeping child hissed at them, perched precariously on the rim of the trunk,

“COME ON!” Spike roared and charged the creature. The thing leapt at Spike with its unreal speed and collided into him, lashing its tentacles around Spikes head and trying to drag the vampire’s skull into its massive jaws.

And with a bestial cry, Ashmedai charged into the room. He tore the creature from Spike, hoisted it into the air, and brought the writhing abomination’s spine down hard against its unyielding knee. There was a sickening crack as the creature’s spine shattered. The hissing became a mewling whimper as Ashmedai tossed it to the floor and helped Spike to his feet,

“What is this…horror?” Ashmedai asked.

“A parting gift from the Dahaka, same bloke that murdered your rabbi,” Spike informed the golem. The creature on the floor crawled to look up at them, its face resealing once again now resembling a wounded child with a bleeding eye socket and shattered spine. It clawed at Ashemedai’s clawed foot, mewling piteously,

“Sorry mate, not this time, do the honors,” he told Ashmedai. Ashmedai looked down at the lie of innocence and the horror which lay underneath. He brought a single huge foot up and then down, hard. The creature beneath his heel spasmed once then lay slack.

“Yes well, that was probably right up there with me own mum hitting on me as far as most horrible thing to happen to me as of late,” Spike commented. Giles nodded,

“This Dahaka must be stopped,”

“Yes,” Ashmedai concurred,

“Too bloody right,” Spike chimed in then peered at the broken body of the creature at their feet. Giles frowned,

“What is it?” Spike gestured and Giles turned to look. The blood running from its gaping maw trickled onto the floor and between the cracks upon the stone floor. A steady drip could be heard as it dripped through the crack to something beneath.

“Hey Dante, give me a hand with this,” Spike told Ashmedai. Giles gingerly dragged the dead body away, a touch fearful that the hideous child-beast would reanimate and seek once again to devour his head, as Ashmedai and Spike worked their fingers into the cracks between the stone and heaved up and out, tossing the stone back upon the floor.

Spike stuck his head in, “Looks clear,” he observed.

“I cannot fit in such a space,” Ashmedai informed them, “I will lower you both down,” Spike nodded and gripping the golem’s forearms was lowered down into the sub-basement. Giles followed, taking a lantern which Ashmedai handed down to him,

“What do you see?” the golem asked. Spike and Giles looked about the chamber. Some carving tools, a table, a chisel, a few ladders and something else. A glint of metal shined against one wall. Human and vampire examined closer then slowly craned their heads up,

“Oh…bollocks!” Spike whispered.

A shrill electronic ring made them both jump. Giles jerked his hand down to his jacket pocket, removing a cell phone, jerking it open and mashing it to his ear,

“Hello?” he spoke and was rewarded with a burst of static; reception being poor so far underground.

“G-Man, that you?” Xander’s voice crackled and hissed, cutting in and out over the tiny speaker. Giles slapped a hand over his other ear to hear better,

“Yes, I’m here. We have some rather alarming news,”

“We got you beat, you better get back here. Some weird creature is trashing the neighborhood near you. It’s bizarre-

“A statue perhaps? Roughly ten feet tall and three or four feet in width,”

There was a static filled silence then,

“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?” a confused Xander asked.

“Oh…” Giles looked back at the wall where a ten foot tall, three foot wide indention was carved into the stone, several chains now snapped and broken lay at the base,

“Call it a hunch,”





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