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chapter two - no more sunshine

It was a dark room except for the few spots of blue color on the black floor coming from the drum-shaped ceiling fixtures. Spike inhaled deeply enjoying the sharp burn in his throat as he lit another cigarette and watched the crowd from the doorway. The swarm of disjointed bodies moving mindlessly under the spell of so-called music almost distracted him from the smell of sweat and Jack Daniels. He hated the sweat. But the Jack – now, that was okay.

Thank goodness, he was a vampire. Spike's keen vision scanned the room, able to etch out details unavailable to the human eye unless technology intervened. He saw quite a bit of 'dancing' on the dance floor, he smirked knowingly. His skin began to prickle agreeably from the vibrations of all the human blood rushing through plump veins in time to the music. The sexual arousal of the dancers flooded into his nostrils as well. He smiled as his jeans tightened over his crotch. Taking another drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips, he thought about the two packs he'd consumed in the past four hours. Might not bode well for a human body, but the fags didn't bother him. He loved to smoke. It singed his lungs and reminded him of breathing. It also helped to distract him from the stench of the stinkin' Zeklar demon he'd been trailing since bloody sunset. His compulsion to tear the demon's soddin' head off had also diminished (ever so slightly). Beast had traveled into every shit hole in LA before this one, emitting a stench that always kept it separate from the crowd. Was easy for Spike to follow. Not kill, though. He was on a no kill mission. Watch, learn and listen. Angel always gave Spike the shit assignments to test his patience.

Bloody hell, these humans are fucking savages if they liked this kind of music, Spike thought, as he swaggered through the entranceway past the pool table and the bar. Every sweaty body in the room seemed to be swaying as one. The Zeklar was hard to spot at first. But Spike could smell it. Glancing around the room, he saw it on the other side of the dance floor. Bouncing like an oversized crazed rabbit, the Zeklar seemed to be enjoying the music. Spike figured for that alone, it deserved to die.

Well, ain't this a walk in the park.

As Spike stepped onto the dance floor, a small blonde woman moved close to him and pushed her breasts rhythmically against his chest. She grabbed his hips, a hand on either side, and stroked her pelvis against his. Spike responded instinctively, moving his groin against her. He was keenly aware that she was oblivious to the danger. Just a mindless body moving to senseless noise. Soul or no soul, Spike's demon began to take the lead, driving him closer to forgetting – and toward remembering what he was. He grabbed the girl's ass with both hands and moved her against his hardening cock. For several uncountable seconds, Spike was aware of only two things – the smell of her warm blood, and his stiff cock twitching against her stomach. Then she looked up at him, and he saw Buffy in her hazel eyes.

God help me. He knew it was a futile plea.

“Spike!”

He turned to see Winifred Burkle standing behind him. She was as close to him as the blonde he held by the ass was in front of him. This wasn't exactly Fred's kind of place. But she was there. She always seemed to show up when he needed her.

Untangling himself from the blonde, Spike turned and walked to the bar. He sensed that Fred was close behind and ordered two Jacks straight up as she sat in the empty stool next to him.

“Did you find it?” Fred was trying to look into his eyes. Spike knew she was checking on him, trying to see if he was in one of his moods.

He lifted his head and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, pet, it's still here.”


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Are you ever going to have any fun, ever again?

Angel stared at Cordelia Chase standing at the foot of the staircase outside his office.

Mr. Retired Dark Avenger, turned CEO of Wolfram and Hart LA, is not a very funny man.

“I know what I am,” Angel said aloud as he reached for Cordy's hand. Then smiling slightly, he remembered Cordy was dead, at rest. Silent forever. Cordy's ghost disappeared and the familiar pain echoed through his empty chest. God, he missed her. Angel turned away from the staircase, and walked back toward his office. He didn't want to think about Cordy. He would focus on something else.

Damn! Where was Spike? Damn little idiot, he cursed silently. Fred and Spike were supposed to call in and give him regular updates on the progress of their search for the Zeklar demon. Fred had called him several times during the past twenty-four hours. Of course, Spike hadn't called once.

“Angel, you ponce, I heard that,” Spike was in the office standing right behind him. Angel hadn't sensed him.

“I didn't say anything Spike.”

“Oh, yeah you did - I know what I am,” said Spike using what he liked to call Angel's drama queen voice. Angel hated that, and besides Angel knew that Spike knew that he never sounded like any kind of a queen.

“Well, there, I know what you are, too...you thick-headed, lift wearing, Nancy boy.” Spike flopped into the nearest chair.

“I wasn't talking to you, Spike.” Angel sat in the chair behind his super-sized desk and raised his face toward the sunlight pouring through the specially treated glass in the floor to ceiling windows of his office. Closing his eyes, he rested for a moment. Spike was quiet, too, thank God. Angel knew Spike enjoyed the sensation of the sun on his face. Just like he did. The two vampires sat in silence for a few moments, feeling the daylight on their dead skin.

They nearly jumped out of their chairs when Fred's high-pitched voice startled them both as she burst into the office. "Angel, did Spike tell you? We got the Zeklar and I think well, I mean, well, we may have figured out why it's here!"

Angel watched somewhat amazed as Fred practically slid across the floor of the room before screeching to a halt. She ground her heels into the carpet sending her long, lean frame swaying from side to side before she steadied herself. She was wearing one of those too short dresses that she seemed to throw on carelessly; she wasn't a snappy dresser. Long brown hair mussed from fingers pulling at it unconsciously, glasses askew – but her large bright brown eyes always blazed with answers. Angel realized he was holding a needless breath. He wished she would stop fidgeting and begin talking about the Zeklar.

"This demon is a metaphysical messenger able to travel through time and dimensions. Its purpose is to deliver a message to any one that seeks it out. And you know, since you sent Spike and me after the Zeklar, we were seeking it out, so to speak. That means it decided to deliver its message to us. Or to me rather.” Fred paused to catch her breath, placing one hand on the headrest of Spike's chair, and the other on his shoulder, prompting him to speak.

“Right, pet,” Spike began, stirring in his seat in response to Fred's nudging. “The Zeklar is from a hell dimension called, well, the Zek dimension, because, you know, Zeklars would live in Zek."

"They are gods, literally, gods," Fred continued. She had elicited Spike's input, but wasn't going to let him take over the telling of the story, observed Angel. At least not completely, which worked for him. Too much Spike talk would make listening way too aggravating.

"There are millions upon millions of Zeklars in Zek, and they rule everything. Except they had one true enemy. Like most gods, there's always something that pisses them off. And for the Zeks, it was a Wiccan tribe called the L' Quaratong. Not really witches like we know them in our dimension, but they controlled all the magics and were very powerful."

"You're using a lot of past tense here for these Wiccans," offered Angel. "What did the Zeklar say happened to them?"

"They destroyed them. Two million Wiccans, according to the Zek were obliterated,” said Fred, her voice taking on its calmest tone since she had walked into Angel's office.

"Tough group of witches, though,” said Spike. “Took a thousand years for them to be wiped out. But wouldn't you know it, a few got away.”

Spike, still sitting in the chair in front of Angel's desk, leaned forward as he continued. "Seems seven of these bloody witches escaped the Zeklars' thousand year war, and of course, they're headed here, to our dimension. Waiting to start some truly big badness."

Angel took a deep breath. "So we are going to help the Zeklar find these witches."

"Not exactly." Fred smiled slightly as she kept her eyes on Angel while she moved from behind Spike's chair to sit on the armrest next to him.

"Didn't think so." Angel rested his head in his hands, rubbing his brow.

"Well peaches, seems like this Zek tale is giving you a wee bit of a headache," Spike was smirking. "Don't like seein' boss man in pain. Guess we'll tell you what else the Zeklar had to say."

Spike stood up, raising his arms above his head, clearly imitating the gyrations of the Zeklar during its confession. “All dramatic like, the Zeklar raised his arms and head to the sky and shouted, I'm ready to deliver my message."

"You mean this long tale about hell dimensions, demon gods and witches, is NOT the Zeklar's message?" There was no response from either Fred or Spike as Angel looked from one to the other. "Then tell me WHAT the HELL is the message?"

"Well, it's based on science, physics actually,” started Fred, who looked as if she was about to go into full lecture-mode. Angel decided to let her roll with it as he worked to calm down.

“You know about physics and matter. Well, just in case you don't - matter is composed of a set of particles called quarks, and the basic quarks are called ‘up,' ‘down' and ‘strange.' Theorists have claimed that a fourth quark, a ‘charmed' quark, is ready to emerge, and the fifth, sixth and seventh Wiccas – I mean quarks – are already here. They don't know who they are yet. They're just learning to become the – the Seven Wiccas.”

Angel gave Fred his best blank stare and rumpled brow, but with a slight nod of his head, gestured for her to continue.

“This is about science and magic, and something very different from the evil prophecies we usually deal with. This is really, I mean really, supernatural and science at the same time."

Angel was growing impatient and he knew he couldn't keep himself in check much longer. He realized that Fred would say it soon enough, but he needed to hear it, now. “Fred, please. One last time. What was the Zeklar's message?”

“Charm begins the end,” she said. “That's the message. Think physics and it will click. It's new magic. Well, new to us. But very old in the Zek dimension. The truth, I mean, the beauty of it is that the L' Quaratong or the Seven Wiccas when united have more power than we can ever imagine."

Angel watched Fred's excited expression as she looked from vampire to vampire.

“Charm begins the end," she repeated. "That's the message. Don't you see? When the Zeklar said it, I immediately thought of the quarks. It's as if the basic principles of physics have taken an evil form, something very powerful, and these powers don't even know they exist, but they will, and they do already, but separately, not as one.”

Fred raced through her words as she looked from Angel to Spike.

“Don't you understand, they are here,” Fred was practically shouting. “If Charm is the fourth quark, we can assume it represents the fourth Wicca. Not the first, but the fourth. So the others are already here. In. Our. Dimension.” Fred paused, and took several deep breaths.

Angel glanced at Spike who had eased back in his chair, while Fred, still sitting next to him on the chair's armrest sat erect and still, no fidgeting in sight, now. Angel stared at the two of them with the same blank expression he had adopted earlier during the conversation. Then he stood slowly and walked to the windows, glancing at Spike and Fred. Angel saw that Spike looked relaxed, ready to do battle - ready to be the warrior he was. Fred, his scientist, was ready too. Most important, Angel sensed that neither one of them knew what was about to happen. Surprisingly, he was especially pleased Spike didn't remember. Although, that was a little tough to admit - even in his own mind.

Angel faced the windows, and stood in the sunshine pouring through them. It was too soon for Fred or Spike to see the truth. Indeed, he wished they might never find out that he knew more about the Seven Wiccas than anyone could ever imagine - anyone, except for Buffy.

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