“You see mi amigos?” Ramos called out from the front seat, “No need to worry about seat belts at all!” he assured them cheerfully as the van began a three-mile an hour stop-start lurching process. The other’s just groaned.
It was right about then that the steamer trunk Buffy was sitting on began to thump and dance wildly, nearly depositing the Slayer on the floor.
“Oh all right,” she grumbled, first checking to make sure they were out of the sun, then she bent down and flipped up the large brass catches on the huge case.
There lay Spike, his shoulder’s bent forward, neck crunched in, legs drawn up nearly to his chest.
“Get me the bloody hell out of here!” Spike hissed at her enunciating each word for emphasis.
Buffy chuckled, “Just be glad vampires don’t need to breathe or worry about claustrophobia.”
Gently, she eased her lover up into more of a sitting position and worked to pop his shoulders back into place. Spike winced with each movement but he endured it stoically.
“I can list so many ways in which that was not fun except I’ve got no bloody feeling in my bloody hands!”
“How can a vampire have bad circulation?” Buffy asked casually.
“Stop complaining Spike,” Angel said from across the van as Faith was easing him out of the other trunk. He turned and gave Alec a favoring nod.
“Lucky you found these.”
Alec shrugged, “Lucky someone decided to move their entire wardrobe via commercial air. They are going to be pissed when find their clothes dumped on the floor.
“I think they’ll be too busy being grateful they’re alive to worry about their luggage.”
“We’ll see,” Alec replied and then he shivered suddenly.
Willow felt it and frowned at her lover, “Are you all right sweetie?”
“Cold,” he replied, “And thirsty.”
Willow nodded and called out to the front of the van, “Ramos?”
Meanwhile Ramos was talking to Xander about their trip when he stopped suddenly.
“Pardon me, mijo, but could hand me that baseball bat over there next to the passenger seat por favor?”
“Ummm….sure,” Xander said hesitantly as he found the object in question and handed it over.
“Gracias,” Ramos replied and then without warning he opened the driver side door and started swinging the bat at a group of grubby street children who were working their way through the traffic jam, prying off hubcaps where they could find them and digging rocks into the side of cars.
Ramos shouted out a long string of words in angry Spanish and swung the bat in their direction, more for show than for trying to make it connect.
“…and one to grow one!” he finished before closing the door and handing the bat back to a stunned Xander.
“Gracias.”
“Uhhh…no problemo amigo?” Xander replied.
“Ramos?” Willow’s voice called out again from the back seat.
Ramos looked up into the dingy rear-view mirror at the girl’s reflection,
“Si, how may I be of service?” he replied jovially.
“Do you have anything warm to drink? Alec’s thirsty and he’s said he’s cold.”
The others shot befuddled glances at each other at this news even as Ramos called out, “Ah, of course,” he reached down between the seats and produced a bottle filled with clear liquid, “Sometimes when people first arrive, they get what we call “the desert chills’; Too much of a shift of temperature from what they’re used to. This will take the chill from his bones and parch his thirst.”
“I thought water in Mexico was umm…no good?” Willow said carefully, not wanting to offend their host.
“Its okay, is not water.”
“Oh well, what is it?” she asked as Alec took a long pull from the bottle.
“Tequila. 100 proof.”
Alec nearly gagged on the stuff, but he managed to get a swallow down and not spew it out even as Willow fussed over him hurriedly, realizing her mistake.
“Don’t hoard that,” Spike growled reaching over and taking the bottle from Alec, hoping that the booze might dull some of the remaining soreness he was experiencing from being stuffed in a trunk.
“All yours,” Alec rasped, then he rested his head against Willow once more and shivered.
“Where are our accommodations?” Giles asked Ramos.
“The Four Seasons. Two suites, paid in full,” Ramos sent Giles a sly look, “Our mutual friend is well funded. Perhaps you can share with me the secret of his success?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” Ramos said with a chuckle.
After a grueling hour of traffic, the battered van finally made its way up to the front doors of the luxurious hotel.
“Ummm…that’s an awful lot of big windows and open space,” Buffy commented when she got a good look at the lobby.
“No problemo, I take the others around back to one of the service entrances, no direct sun back there this time of day,” Ramos replied.
“Okay, that sounds like a plan.”
“Mind if I join you blokes?” Alec commented quietly, “Not really feeling up to dealing with any more people today.”
“No problemo,” Ramos repeated.
Willow stroked Alec’s head, trying to ignore the cold clammy texture his skin had taken, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
The back door of the van was thrown open and the interior flooded with bright (though fortunately not direct) light. Alec brought his hands up to sunglasses trying to block the glare from his covered eyes. He smiled and took her hand in his, kissing it and squeezing it gently, “I’ll be fine. See you inside.”
Willow reluctantly let go of his hand as she departed via the back of the van along with the others. Faith was the last one out and she slid the door shut with a clunk and the interior was plunged back into soothing darkness.
A little while later, the group made it through check in and received their room keys and was getting their first looks at their new homes.
“Oooohhhhh, me likey,” Buffy commented with a grin, taking in all the plush comfort of the suite while she closed all the heavy curtains, plunging the room into darkness before turning on the light.
Dawn grinned and raced forward and leapt on top of a bed covered in blankets and pillows. She sank into the mattress with a slight creek.
“Okay, I’m good,” Dawn commented with a laugh. Soon, the others were filtering in, “oohing” and “ahhing” over the sumptuousness of their rooms: sunken marble tubs with Jacuzzi jets, glass chandeliers, plus plush carpets that one could nearly sink up to their ankles in.
“Score!” Spike cried out in glee as he discovered the very well stocked mini-bar and poured himself a drink.
Alec meanwhile wheeled himself over to one of the beds and, hefting himself up, he fell heavily on top of it.
Wordless, Willow walked over to him and gently pulled his boots off. She was startled he wasn’t putting up a fight; they both knew he hated her fussing over him, or ‘treating him like a bloody invalid’ as he called it. Now however, he simply lay there and did his best to let himself be manhandled.
Next to each bed - there was more than one in the room- were large folding screens that could offer a measure of privacy within the room. Willow took one and set it up, then proceeded to strip her lover out of his current garb, torn, sodden and ragged after his battle with the monster on the plane and into a clean pair of black sweatpants, his favorite.
“I’m cold,” Alec muttered, seeming half awake.
Willow nodded and made sure the blankets were wrapped around him tightly, “You just rest sweetie,” she kissed his mouth gently.
For a second, his body went rigid, “What if they come back, you’ll need me to-!”
“Shhhh….” Willow soothed him, “Nothing’s coming back and we’ve got enough people here to take care of business. You. Rest. Now!”
Willow thought she saw just a flicker of that crooked smile of his that she loved so much.
“As you say,” Alec finally said with a quiet sigh. Buffy peaked her head around the divider and gestured to her friend that she and the others were heading to the other suite. Willow nodded and Buffy turned off the light, and darkness flooded the room thick and cloying as Buffy closed the door behind her.
Willow took Alec’s hand in hers and held it, waiting until finally his breathing was slow, deep, and even and the peace of untroubled sleep descended on him.
Gently kissing his hand, she crept away from him to join the others.
“Luv?” Alec’s voice crept up from the dark bed. Willow flinched. Nuts, she thought to herself, I thought I’d been quiet enough to not wake him.
“Yes sweetie?”
Alec yawned so wide his jaw cracked but she was still able to make out the words, “Just do me a favor, shut off the light before you go?”
Willow frowned and looked around, she could barely see her hand in front of her face it was so dark.
“Ummm…..okaaaaaay,” she stumbled around in vain for some way to help, “A-ha!” She removed from one of the drawers in the bed stand a silk sleeping mask. Gently, she fit it over his head.
“You look like the Lone Ranger,” she commented with a giggle.
Alec just smiled slightly and settled back against his pillows, falling asleep in an instant. Willow kissed him lightly, she didn’t want to wake him but she could never resist kissing this man whenever she had the opportunity.
Love makes you do the wacky, she remembered saying once. No kidding.
It was late into the night when Alec finally woke up. There was a moment of confusion as he realized that he couldn’t see in the dark, something that was becoming less and less of an issue as the days past, but even as the emotion struck him, a thin thread of darkness obligingly removed the blindfold from his eyes.
Without my consciously manifesting it. Great.
Alec looked over to his side and saw Willow curled up against him. He gently slid out from under her. She grimaced at his sudden absence and made unhappy sounds in her sleep.
“Shhhh, it’s okay luv,” Alec whispered soothingly, stroking her hair back. Willow calmed and fell back into a deep sleep.
Alec padded over to the glass sliding door that opened out to a large balcony over looking the balcony eight stories up. He slid it carefully open and stepped through breathing deep the scent of Mexico city by night: there was the arid scent of the dry earth itself, baked red in the heat, the smell of car and industrial exhaust and the scent of spices and cooking, all mixing together to form a cloying scent that nearly overwhelmed the senses.
He needed to get out. The roar of a low passing helicopter nearly sent the windows rattling and bright light flashed all around him. Hurriedly, Alec closed the door to prevent the noise from waking the entire hotel.
The young man climbed onto the rail of the balcony, it was thin but his balance was always finely tuned. For a second, he hung in the air like a crane, the lights and scent of the city surrounding him.
Then without a word, he pivoted and, folding his arms over his chest plunged backwards off the rail.
The wind whipped through his air as he saw the balcony edge reside from sight up into the dark. The stars were bright and the moon hung pale and yellow in the sky, like an unblinking eye.
It was over in seconds, one moment he was freefalling eight stories, and the next darkness erupted around him, cradling him like a great bird as he landed gently on the ground.
Apparently he had picked the right balcony for his acrobatics, no one noticed a thing except the sudden appearance of a young man in dark pants and a long dark coat that until moments ago had served as a parachute. Soon Alec lost himself in the crowd, his bare feet plodding on the earth.
How many hours he walked, he couldn’t be certain. Alec turned down side street after side street, following boulevards and alleys and soon he was enveloped in the labyrinthine slums of Mexico city, far from the prosperity of the center. The smells, the sounds, the sensations of the city were like some kind of fever dream that was washing over all his senses, threatening to drown him.
“Hey, gringo,” a voice called out from the dark, “You got any money?”
“What?” Alec asked, confused. His vision swam; he couldn’t focus on the speaker as the world see-sawed back and forth.
“Money, Americano, you got any?”
“No, no I don’t have any money.”
“You lying to me gringo?” the man asked and there was a flash of metal in his hand, “I cut you.”
“I’m not lying. Stay away from me,” Alec tried to bat at the air in a weak defensive gesture. The other man simply laughed,
“You have too much tequila, gringo,” the man grinned showing rotting teeth, “Make you bleed like a stuck pig, make you bleed all over.”
“No, I don’t…bleed,” Alec replied, feeling like he was about to be sick.
The man shoved him then and Alec’s instincts took over: he pivoted with the move and lashed out with a backhand. The man stumbled backwards, spitting blood.
“Bastardo!” the mugger yelled and lashed out with the knife. Alec, overextended from the punch, had no time to dodge.
The knife sank into Alec’s gut, all the way up to the hilt.
Alec screamed in agony, even as the mugger gave the knife a savage twist with a grin.
“Adios gringo.”
For a moment, everything was still…and then stillness became confusion.
Both men looked down, there was the knife, buried Alec’s pale flesh, yet the man did not fall.
Slowly Alec met the other’s man gaze.
“I think you just made a big mistake…amigo,” Alec said grimly.
And with a hiss, black ooze exploded out of the wound covering the man’s hand and began to eat it.
The man screamed bloody murder and pulled and strained, wailing in pain and terror. He fell back hard against the wall and lashed out with the knife again. The blade caught Alec’s palm as he was holding his hands up to protect himself and a thin jet of black ooze erupted from the wound and struck the mugger in the face.
The man’s screams became a high-pitched whine as the slime devoured his hand and the knife along with it. The man clawed at his face, now slowly being consumed by the tar-like substance but only managed to tear portions of his face off in the process as it was quickly dissolving. Quickly the slime found a way down the man’s throat, up into his nostrils, eating through his eyes and the screams became gasping gurgling sounds. Flesh gave way to muscle tissue which gave way to bone and even bone slide free and fell apart as the man’s screams died down into nothingness.
Soon the man was gone, where he had been was a pool of ooze. Alec looked about in numb horror. And with another hiss the slime raced towards Alec.
“No! Get away!” Alec cried out, holding his hands out. The ooze simply slithered its way up his arms and flowed down into his mouth. Alec began to choke and gag but it was no use.
And then the pain started, searing, intense pain in his chest. Alec looked down as could only gape at what he saw: his flesh was bulging out obscenely, his muscles were bubbling like water in a pot, and he saw a face, the face of the mugger that had just been…consumed by his blood pressing out against his body like a face against prison bars, mouth stretched open in a wordless scream of agony as whatever was happening within Alec’s body did what it was doing to him. Alec thought he could hear his ribs crack as they strained…
…and then it was over. The face and the screams died away and Alec simply lay there, breathing raggedly, in the fetal position against some trashbags.
“Hey!” a voice called out from somewhere beyond Alec’s line of sight,
“You okay?” It was a woman’s voice, Alec could tell that much, passable English though highly accented. He could smell the smoke from her cigarette.
“You want me to call a doctor?”
“No. The pain is gone,” Alec replied as he got to his feet.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He turned.
“I feel just fine.”
The woman only stared in shock: Alec’s eyes were overflowing pools of darkness, they spilled down his body like twin rivers. His chest was bare and pale white with strongly defined muscles but writhing all over his body was torrents of thick, black darkness, like an oil slick. Upon his chest, beat a large black patch of ooze, like a tumor that throbbed like an obscene heart as it pumped streaks of blackness through veins under his pale skin stretching out in a hideous web. Tentacles randomly formed, dissolved and reformed, some ending in claws or small hands. His actual hands had been transformed into massive claws, his teeth were needle-sharp.
A tiny tentacle detached from his face and wrapped around the woman’s cigarette, bringing it to Alec’s mouth. He took a deep, satisfied pull and exhaled.
“These things will kill you, you know?”
“El Diablo de la noche!” the woman finally screamed and ran as fast as her feet could carry her.
“ ‘The devil of the night?’” Alec said with a frown and then a realization: he didn’t speak Spanish, yet he understood what she had said. He took a moment to take stock of his current situation and even as his analytical mind took over from the instinctual side, his body began to contort back into something resembling human.
The weight and look of malnourishment that he had been suffering from was gone: he felt stronger and more fit than he had in days.
And now he could suddenly understand Spanish.
The ramifications were too big to ignore: whatever had been done to that…person, it had triggered regeneration of his own body mass and it had imbued him with a facet of that person’s identity: in this case, Spanish.
What else have I inherited? He wondered and how long before I have to do it again to keep from getting sick?
“Dear gods, what fresh Hell is this?” he murmured to himself as he turned his back to the alley were he’d seen a man be consumed and then digested by his blood, and started walking straight back to the hotel.
When the old man was certain, he came out from hiding. He had seen everything and had nearly died of fright. He did not know when the demon was coming back but he intended to be very far away when that happened.
But first he wanted to see if perhaps anything valuable had been left behind from the nightmare. Perhaps if he were a younger man, or a sober one, this idea would have been disregarded as suicidal in the extreme, but the man was neither young nor sober as the streets of Mexico City could be very cruel to those who were.
He saw it when he moved aside an old coffee can: a tiny drop of black ooze, about the size. Gingerly, he poked at it with a stick.
And the slime shot up the stick, raced up the man’s arm and smacked solidly into his eye.
The man began to scream wildly as the slime ate its way through his eye. He backpedaled, tripping over his own feet and fell backwards over the rim of a dumpster landing within the slime and muck. From within the metal container came screams and cries and the pounding of feet and fists against the uncaring metal.
Eventually the screams became whimpers, the flailing stopped, and then nothing at all and all was still.
A single tendril of darkness extended up over the rim of the dumpster and it dragged the rest of its gelatinous form with it and landed to the ground with a thump. A cat hissed at it before fleeing and the dark blob made its own way into the slums of Mexico City a thing of raw appetite: ready and hungry for more.
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