Absence of Fear
“Does she always do this?”
Wesley tossed an irked glance over his shoulder as Gunn cradled a thrashing Cordelia to his chest, waiting until the waves subsided and she fell still again, gasping for air. After the deeper shards of pain melted into nothingness, she turned violently in her seat and thwapped Spike upside the head. Hard.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“Some consolation. ‘Does she always do this?’ Please!”
“Cordy, a little description of what you saw might be good.”
The woman turned around again, absently caressing her temples as the last of her headache waned away to nonexistence. “Kids. Two of them. They’re being attacked in the alley behind…oh, it’s that place on the east-side.”
“Not really helpful,” Gunn informed her. His observation also merited a grunted thwap, though notably not as hard.
“Hey, buddy. I work for these things. Not the other way around.”
Spike leaned forward expectantly. “So what ‘appens now?”
“Now we go save the kids that Cordelia saw in her vision,” Wesley replied.
“…right after you drop me off at this Tarabas or what all?”
“That’s Caritas, and no. We’re going now. We can’t afford to stop.”
The vampire sat back with furthered exasperation. “But you heard Charlie! The one alley on the east-side? We could be out ‘ere for hours.”
“I’m sure the lots of screaming will help point us in the right direction.”
A long silence.
“As I was sayin’, we could be out ‘ere for hours!”
“Serves you right for calling me Charlie,” Gunn snapped.
“The one by Mom’s Barb-B-Que House…not that one but the one close to it? You know? The one that has bad décor but doesn’t make up for it with decent food?” Cordelia slapped her friend again on the shoulder. “You go there all the time!”
He shrugged. “It’s cheap.”
Spike shook his head. “An’ we’re not stoppin’ at this karaoke bar firs’, why?”
“Because it’s not on our way,” Wesley retorted. “And if the Powers seem to think that our attention should be on the kids that Cordelia saw in her vision, then we’re going to trust them.”
“Bugger the Powers! I have to—”
“Save the Slayer,” Gunn groaned.
“We heard you the first time,” the woman agreed. “You have the broken-record epidemic. And there will be no premature leaving of the vehicle. The last time that happened, Angel went the way of the dark side.”
The man beside her groaned again. “I hate Star Wars,” he decided. “All that ‘dark side’ nonsense. Of course it’s the dark side. What else would it be? If I ever meet George Lucas—”
“Yes, he did it intentionally to get on your nerves,” Wesley agreed wryly. “It was a part of his evil plan, along with annoying the worldwide African-American population.”
“There is no worldwide African-American population,” Cordelia argued. “If they’re African-American, they’re American. Hence the—”
“Would the lot of you shut the bloody hell up?!” Spike growled. “’F we’re makin’ with the rescue bit, let’s go ahead an’ get it over with. Bad enough that I have a reputation for killin’ my kind on the Hellmouth. ‘S becomin’ a sodding conflict of interest.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Someone’s testy,” Cordelia observed.
His eyes narrowed at her. “Well, yeah! How the hell do you hope to defeat whatever’s eatin’ at the youngsters? Wes’ll throw a book at ‘em, I s’pose, an’ Charlie here’ll start talkin’ up interracial politics. Maybe you can spray a li’l perfume in their direction.”
“I don’t talk about interracial politics all that often,” Gunn clarified. “There are just some things that egg me in the wrong way. Like being called Charlie. I’d advise you drop it before it becomes habit and I’m forced to shove something very wooden and pointy through your chest.”
“Okay. Flash ‘em some attitude. That’ll work.”
The car suddenly jerked and came to a fierce halt beside a curb and Wesley pivoted to shoot him a disapproving glare. “Spike, if getting to Caritas matters to you at all, you’ll firstly shut up, and secondly help us deal with whatever we’re about to encounter,” he advised, climbing to his feet as the others piled out of the automobile. “Providing reaching your Slayer—”
Dirty fucking pool.
“Right, right. You ole git.” The vampire jumped to the concrete after them, making no small noise about his discontent at the inconvenience. “What ‘f the runts are bein’ attacked by a human? What then? I throw pebbles at ‘em an’ hope it doesn’ hurt?”
There was no answer. Just a collective demand for him to shut up.
Spike grinned. These people, once you got passed the unfortunate Angel-association, were a bit of all right.
Then again, he reckoned that working with a vampire—despite soulful disposition—had assisted in lightening their opinion of him. There was a group dynamic that nearly rivaled the one he had left behind. A willful need to search out. To seek. To investigate.
“Spike!” Cordelia called seconds after the others had disappeared into the alley. “You coming?”
To righteously annoy.
“Right, right,” he agreed under his nonexistent breath. “Rely on the vampire to save the day. You people are depraved.”
Of course, in consigning his services in turn for allegiance, not to mention transportation, something occurred that he had not expected. Something he would never have expected, given his nature. Given anything he had encountered throughout the long trials of his experience. The scene upon observation did something. Inspired something. A flow of unbridled…he couldn’t even label it.
Nothing had ever disturbed him as wholly, and he didn’t know what troubled him more. The notion, or the scene playing out before his eyes.
His eyes that were so used to chaos.
His hands that enjoyed creating it.
Spike feared the latter, and he knew it was true.
The most bothersome aspect was the lack of anything entirely bothersome. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen the same sight played out before, hadn’t caused the picture a thousand times. Never had he shied from reddening his hands. And the alley was void of blood. It was more the prospect of what could have occurred had they not arrived.
A Kraelek demon—glowing puss and all. The odious stench that he would know anywhere. Did that ever take him back? The creature was approximately a meter in length and deceptively quick, regarding its appearance. Its reputation centered on a habitual blinding of all victims with the aforementioned puss before draining the insides in a manner that could make the toughest man flinch in retrospect.
What was most suspicious was its origin. The Kraelek weren’t native to California, or America in that regard. He had seen them out of context before, of course, but usually on assassination missions. And it had been nearly thirty years. In Prague.
That was another thing. No creature particularly favored the demon. While its preference resided among the living, it would and had targeted the undead to add to a plethora of victims. Vampires wouldn’t die from such an attack—not at first. But they couldn’t well feed without a stomach and eventually starved to death. As in all other things, it bowed to the highest bidder; whether said bidder was proposing wealth or power. He wagered more the second as he couldn’t see what use the creature would have for money. Spike did not favor beasts that could just as easily turn on him, and had thus never before employed such services. Besides, they weren’t exactly easy to come by.
Nor cheap, in any case of its favored method of payment.
The Kraelek in question had evidently narrowed its selection to the two suggested in the vision. Two girls—one no younger than twenty with dirtied blonde hair, who looked anything but helpless despite the odds mounting against her. The look of fierce determination on her face rivaled any Slayer he had faced, and she had not spared the slightest glance in their direction. It was in the best regard: the creature hadn’t acknowledged them, either. She was currently warding it off with what appeared to be an elongated stake or something of a similar nature. Something she had most definitely had ready on her persons when the assault first began.
Her companion was considerably younger. A girl of similar blonde hair who had to be her daughter or a relation in that regard. The child likely around five, but her expression was startlingly matured. As though she would be fighting as well had her guardian not strategically placed herself between the girl and the monster.
It was odd to see a girl that age look at a demon and not reflect fear.
“What the…” Gunn said, frowning in disgust. “Puss? No one mentioned puss.”
“Get over it,” Cordelia snapped. “Someone get the girl. Wes, Spike, distract the demon. We have to get its focus—”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed at her. “How do you suggest we distract—”
Wesley had, at some point, brandished a small, handheld crossbow and projected an arrow into the Kraelek’s left leg. The creature howled and turned to them violently, flashing its fangs with intent.
“There,” the Watcher supplied. “That elementary enough for you?”
“Bloody fantastic. You ‘ave anythin’ in a larger size? ‘Cause that’s not gonna do us rot, you egotistical sod.” Spike rolled his eyes and leapt forward before the thought could entirely register, as if to prevent himself from retracting what was notably a fool idea. His features melted into game face, and he roared ineffectually, keeping his head trained knowingly as far out of spitting range as possible.
Right. Might be a good idea if he told the others about that.
“Don’ look at it!” he shouted, swinging furiously as the Kraelek attempted to turn back toward its intended. “’Less you fancy carryin’ around a tappin’ cane for the rest of your days an’ taking orders from a mutt named Sparky!”
Another flash of incisors. The vampire dropped to the ground instinctually and rolled over to the blonde woman and her child, fighting to his feet with an unneeded pant.
“Time for formal introductions’ll come later,” he said in hurried greeting. “Run off to the wanker in the glasses.”
He received a blank, incredulous stare for his troubles.
“Who are you?” the girl demanded.
Her inquiry went indefinitely unanswered; the Kraelek had turned its attention to her once more and smacked her in the proffered direction with a wide and oddly sloppy gesture of its arm. The girl behind him remained unharmed but exhibit the first sign of childish fear at her caregiver’s sudden ailment.
“Serves her right,” Spike muttered, though there was no feeling behind it. “Told her this wasn’ the proper time for bloody introductions.”
Cordelia rushed to help the fallen woman; Gunn and Wes were attacking the demon from the back. They moved with respective synchronicity—obviously well attuned to each other’s moves and abilities. The former Watcher had used up the last of his arrows and was attempting to distract the Kraelek while his colleague collected the weapon that had tumbled from the victim’s grasp in loo of her attack.
“That’s right, you bastard,” Wesley snapped. The insult was nearly comical coming from his cultured brogue. “Pick on someone your own size.” At the prompt, Gunn stepped forward and began releasing what looked to be a year’s worth of repressed rage on everything that had ever irked him at the monster. It was impressive to look at, but not altogether effective.
Spike chuckled and shook his head, turning to the girl behind him. “You all right?”
She nodded.
“It’ll be over in a minute, pet.”
There was doubt behind the child’s eyes, but she did not comment. Again, the vampire found himself taken aback by the layers of unguided maturity. She looked much too old to be so young.
“SPIKE!”
The vampire whirled around, bursting back into game face. His arms outstretched and prone; it took two seconds to divulge the Kraelek’s plan. And then it came—sheer rage. Rage beyond prompt. Beyond reason for being. Rage that a creature, any creature, could think to harm a girl such as this. Rage at himself for being the culprit more times than he could count. Rage at the entirety of his kind as well as all others prompted by the demon derivation. Unprecedented, neatly unprompted. It gnawed and clawed and ate away at his insides, but for a fraction of a second, he didn’t care a bloody damn. There was no thought beyond darkness—no concept swaying in the communal disorder of his cavity.
Thus he did what his instincts commanded of him. What his inner workings told him to do; that if he rejected what he was and what he felt, he would never walk away from that alley with a shred of anything to merit reasonability.
He sank his fangs into the creature’s neck, and tore. He gnashed. He dug. He made it bleed. A foul, repugnant taste invaded his mouth, and he didn’t care. Didn’t care when he felt the skin at his shoulder swipe away at the influence of an angered claw. Didn’t care when his side screamed out in pain, or at the thrashing the monster was making against any patch of flesh it could see. He growled and bit harder. Bit until his jaw hurt. Bit until he felt the vein in his head would burst only for the remembrance that he didn’t have a pulse. Bit until the creature cried out and released him, and he was consigned to the ground, an awed Wesley and Gunn standing at his wake. The sounds of an injured Kraelek distant now, suddenly, and wailing far into the traffic of the city.
There was nothing for a long, long moment.
“Ummm…” Cordelia offered unwaveringly. “Ew?”
The former Watcher tilted his head in respectful regard and approached, offering him a hand. “You all right?”
Spike flinched and nodded, his face distorting into a painful frown as he spat the mouthful of blood that hadn’t trickled down his throat back onto the pavement. “Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe that wasn’t as bright an idea as I thought.”
The woman had at some point broken free of Cordelia’s grasp and raced back to the girl, who was staring at him with awe-inspired eyes. In turn, the vampire nodded, his face melting back into human guise.
“You knew what that thing was?” Gunn asked.
“Kraelek demon,” he answered distantly.
Wesley frowned. “Kraelek? Are you sure? They are non-indigenous to these parts…or anywhere in the American continent, for that matter. They—”
“I know what it was, boy. Don’ go lecturin’ me. I’ve seen ‘em before. Almost lost Dru to one in Prague.” He shook his head. “That was before the mob, ‘course.”
A small noise shuffled the group’s attention back to the woman that had just been saved, and the child protectively cradled in her arms. “I…uhhh…” she began awkwardly, all signs of the female warrior they had seen not ten minutes ago flying out the proverbial window. “I don’t…how did…?”
Cordelia smiled warmly. “It’s a long story.”
“Yeah, starting with how she’s not a kid.” Gunn pivoted heatedly to his colleague, though any anger was most definitely nonexistent. “I thought you said she was a kid.”
“So I screwed up. Okay? At least we found the place. There was still—”
The protective look was back; the woman rose knowingly to her feet. “You were sent here?”
“No, no,” the Seer amended, stepping forward before realizing that was likely not the smartest move to make. “I…we’re good guys, I promise. I just…sometimes know random things. Like when someone’s in trouble.”
Wesley was frowning. He had picked up something in her tone that he did not particularly like. “Are you being followed?” he asked, likewise taking a slightly more precarious step in their direction.
“No,” the woman, too rapid for comfort but authoritative enough to verify the line being drawn at the subject’s end. “We’re fine. Thank you for your help…we should be getting back.”
“Wait.” The Watcher sighed heavily and cast all cards aside, moving for them in an order that commanded attention. He reached into his wallet and withdrew something that Spike assumed was a business card. “If you need anything. Shelter. Protection. Someone to talk to…our number’s on the card.”
A pause. The woman studied it for a long minute before offering a snicker. “What? Do business with a vampire?” She turned a pointed gaze to the platinum Cockney, who arched his scarred brow in turn. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
The girl at her side sparkled to life at that, tugging insistently on her garments. “He saved me, Nikki. He’s not bad.”
There was nothing to warrant belief behind her eyes, though the expression notably softened, as though indulging a child’s innocence. “All vamps are bad, hon. You know—”
“Nikki?” Spike offered, moving toward them slowly. When the woman nodded in address, he smiled slightly and returned the favor. “Knew a bird named Nikki once. Tough cookie. Din’t take too kindly to vamps, either.” He smiled candidly before turning his attention to the girl, cocking his head with measured curiosity. “What’s your name, Bit?”
Her guardian stepped forward in protest, but the child spoke before she could be stopped. “Rosalie.” She paused, then grinned lightly. The first grin that had known that face since they entered the alley. “Rosie.”
“Rosie, I’m Spike. You can tell your mum that these blokes ‘ere are the do-gooding type, an’ for the half of it, ‘m not implicated anyway, so no fear from the Big Bad.” His eyes drifted upward once more. “’S not my business, luv.”
“We don’t need help,” she replied, demeanor softened if not trusting. It was good enough.
“Right then.” Spike sighed and shook his head, turning back to Wesley with an expression of rekindled boredom. “Can we be goin’, then? I got me a number to sing.”
The four headed back to the car, Wesley with a bit more reluctance but carrying the weight of a man who accepted an eye for those who did not wish to be aided.
“That was weird,” Cordelia ventured to say as they resumed positions.
“Girl alone with a kid like that? Especially one with those sort’ve moves?” Gunn shook his head appreciatively. “Man, gotta respect that.” He turned in his seat to give Spike an appraising glance. “You’re on the verge of seriously wigging me out. You sure you’re a vampire?”
“I believe we all saw the bumpies,” the woman observed.
“But since when—”
“It was the girl,” Wesley said softly. “There’s something about her.”
“Yeah…” Spike agreed, nearly unaware that he was speaking. “Somethin’ all right.”
That was the last anyone would speak of it. The car pulled back into the stream of traffic and disappeared among the multitude. All prior actions unmentioned but not forgotten.
There was an objective. A purpose. Something he could not push aside for anyone.
There would be no further distractions.
To be continued in Chapter Eleven: To My Someone…