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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry this is late! Deacon assures me that there will be another chapter this weekend as well, so look for another update soon! Also, his editor was sick for a while so there may be *minor* errors, fyi.

And for anybody thought that chapter 8 ended rather abruptly, he also assures me that that WAS the end of the chapter :)
It was like a vision from Dante. Huge and powerful muscles, dark skin looking as though it had been blasted in fire. Large talons easily capable of gutting a man, a powerfully muscled chest, thick neck, and a large head complete with a mouth full of sharp pointy teeth and an impressive set of horns tapered to glistening point,

“Wow,” Spike said, impressed. Giles simply nodded as the creature stepped off the balcony it had been perched upon and landed surprisingly gracefully before them, blocking the exit. Its clawed feet dug into the stone floor with the crunching sound of grinding rock.

Up close, and no longer backlit, the pair could examine the creature more completely. It appeared to be a patchwork creation. Several different skin tones were stitched together expertly, creating a latticework of bone, sinew and flesh. Even the pupils of the eye seemed to be a composite, stitches running through the sclera, creating a bizarre multicolored look to the eyes. It made Adam from last year look like a Tinker Toy.

“Well, I guess that answers whether or not the rabbi made something,” Spike quipped dryly in the face of the patchwork colossus. Where its body wasn’t stitched together, bizarre symbols seemed to be burned into its flesh, which looked like it had been blasted red and hard in a furnace,

“Yes, yes so it would seem um…hello,” Giles addressed the creature, “Can you umm...speak?”

“Better than you it would appear,” the creature replied in a smooth, calm voice, startling them both.

“Oh! Well…hello there!” Giles said stuttering slightly at being able to converse with this creature,

“You spoke of Rabbi Mesha. He is dead. Are you responsible?” The creature asked them directly, Giles shook his head,

“No, no we are not. We believe a creature called a ‘Dahaka’ or a ‘fleshdancer’ was responsible for murdering the rabbi and then assuming his identity in an attempt to murder my son and others,” The creature considered this then nodded,

“Yes, that follows with what I witnessed of the creature before I left,” the creature responded. Giles frowned,

‘You encountered the fleshdancer?” he asked puzzled. The creature nodded,

“Yes I did,” he confirmed for the confused pair.

“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly blend in; how did you and for that matter, what were you doing spying on the rabbi and goo-boy?” Spike asked. The creature turned to address the shorter man,

“I was not spying. I lived here. This was my home,” Giles gaped, a terrible thought occurring to him,

“Who are you?” Giles asked. The creature turned,

“My name was Kohen. I was the Rabbi’s student; before I became his experiment. Now you may call me Ashmedai,”

“The Jewish King of Demons,” Giles breathed. Ashmedai bowed sardonically,

“In the piecemeal flesh, so to speak,” he replied bitterly. Spike looked back and forth,

“Hold up, how did you go from nice Jewish boy to Frankenstein with wings?” he asked. Ashmedai chuckled, a sound like stone on glass,

“That is a long story,” he replied. Giles cleared his throat, appalled at what had been done to this young man.

“We have time, and we believe it may be important,” Giles replied. The creature nodded,

“Follow me please,” he instructed simply then turned, “First I must ask, what is the nature of your interest?”

“There is a great evil rising in the west, in our home. We seek the elements necessary to combat it,” Giles replied, “For the sake of our families and our homes,” To his surprise, Ashmedai smiled, a little sadly,

“How noble. Oddly enough, it is that sentiment that gave rise to the golem of Prague all those years ago,” The creature led them up some stairs and opened a trapdoor into what had once been the temple attic and had now been converted into a semi-comfortable living space and probably the only room in the temple aside from the main foyer that Ashmedai’s horns and wing tips did not scrape the ceilings.

He gestured with a clawed hand to the floor, “Forgive the lack of furniture” he explained, “I do not entertain often,” he quipped, smiling slightly as he took the only chair, a battered recliner that had deep gouges torn into it from the creature wings,

“Looking like a gargoyle will do that,” Spike commented, squatting on the floor next to Giles.

Giles frowned at the other man’s rudeness before turning to Ashmedai,
“It’s quite all right, earlier you mentioned the Golem of Prague. To confirm, you yourself are in fact a golem, are you not?” Ashmedai nodded,

“What gave it away? I’ve got everything but bolts in my neck,” he spat bitterly before sighing, getting his rage under control, “Yes, yes I am a golem, created in the image of the demon king, to inspire ‘righteous fear’ in his flock,”

“Hold up, you were created to scare all the other Jews in the area? Why?” Spike asked, Giles answer for him,

“Because a religious leader who can manifest ‘demons’ at a moment’s notice can cultivate a lot of obedience from his flock,” he replied. Ashmedai nodded,

“His sin runs deeper than you know. Using me as his tool of fear and majesty, Rabbi Mesha extended his hand into politics, finance, local businesses, utilizing his position as spiritual leader to cultivate resource and influence in the local community,” Spike shrugged,

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, local holy men dipping into the town well for a little extra bread, it’s been done. I’m not impressed,” Giles sighed taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose,

“Spike, Try to understand this. Say you have an entire congregation of very devoted, deeply religions people. Now say one of them has a good deal of money, you can tell them it’s their religious obligation to tithe some of that to the temple and if they refuse, you send a demon to their house to scare them into doing it. Or say someone in your congregation is running for office and you want to make them more pliable to your wishes using a generous campaign contribution from money that you’ve extorted out of your own flock, followed by a demonic visit should your candidate not tow the line you want him to. It is a pretty powerful incentive. Faith and fear in combination make a powerful ally”

“Faith. Fear. Cut from the same bloody tree if you ask me; bunch of bleedin’ people cowering in sodding mansions of stone and wood begging some old man on up high for a better life; waste of time if you ask me,” Spike snorted derisively.

“Spoken like a man who’s lost his faith. Becoming a vampire wouldn’t have something to do with that would it?” Ashmedai asked.

“Don’t know. Would becoming a freak have something to do with you losing yours?” Spike replied testily.

“My faith has endured, vampire, how has yours fared?” the golem replied. Spike snarled at him,

“Fag off! I’m not going to be lectured at by someone’s bloody cross-stitch project!” Spike roared getting to his feet, fist clenched.

“Enough!” Giles yelled. “Sit down Spike!” Spike glared daggers into them both, and then settled back down upon the floor, arms crossed. Giles sighed and turned to Ashmedai,

“I apologize, Spike is…” Giles struggled for the word, “He’s sort of…he’s an idiot,” Ashmedai chuckled,

“Perhaps, but a brave idiot. If he brawls as well as he brags, he must be useful,”

“I have my moments,” Spike replied evenly, getting himself under control.

“You mentioned that his sin ran deeper than we knew. What exactly did you mean?” Giles asked. Ashmedai’s inhuman face turned grim,

“Let me show you,” he answered.

Willow awoke with a start. She rubbed her eyes and stared at her watch, the little glowing numbers told it was nearly quarter to ten.

And then it hit her.

Alec was gone.

Frantically, she bolted up right and whirled around.

Alec was there, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring into the dark.

Sighing in relief, Willow crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him, her hands clasping against his bare chest, she placed a warm kiss on the skin upon his back, trying to ignore the wounds that were still healing.

“Hey you,” she whispered then smiled when she felt his hands come over hers and press together,

“Does the sun still shine, Willow? I’m having trouble seeing it,” he whispered. Willow frowned,

“Well its night time, also we’re underground,” she replied, there was something in this tone she didn’t like. It reminded her of someone she had heard before. She heard the smile in his reply

“Yes, it’s night. It’s always night here. Always dark. And we all linger here, under the cold earth. Buried alive. Screaming for release,” Alec replied. Willow shuttered at his words, thick with despair.

“Hey…” she whispered turning him towards her, he didn’t resist, his legs dangling behind him, “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” she whispered soothingly, pulling his head to her breast and rocking him. She realized then who he sounded like, speaking in that stilted broken tone of voice: Drusilla, Spike’s mad paramour.

“Yes, you’re here. And it’s here. I can feel it. It’s waiting for me, there, in the darkness. I can feel it under my skin, behind my eyes, clogging my lungs, strangling me,” Alec whispered, his voice full of dread. Willow frowned kissing his forehead,

“What is Alec? What’s waiting for you?”

“The hungry dark,” he replied in quiet terror and despair. Willow nodded then looked up and gasped.

Daenna was standing in front of them both. Her skin was a bloated blue, her flesh hung from her body like soiled clothes, soaked to the bone. Her eyes were a milky dead white, wide and staring right at her. The corpse opened its mouth and a thick black ooze leaked out, dribbling down the front of what had once been a pretty dress,

“Death cannot save you from the evil that you have brought! Beware!” The old woman threw her head back, black ooze spewing out like a geyser, choking and gurgling. And then her head fell off her body and rolled away.

Willow screamed in terror and brought her hands over her eyes shuddering in horror. Then she felt warm arms wrap around her,

“Shhh love, it’s all right. I have you,” she heard Alec whisper to her, resting his cheek on her red hair. She cried then, partially in horror, partially in grief but also in joy and relief: he was the strong, tender man she had fallen in love with once more, in spirit at least if not yet in body.

“Alec…” she choked clutching to her love. He smiled and kissed her head over and over,

“It’s me, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.

“I’m so afraid,” she whispered. He nodded and turned to peer down into the dark tunnels, where he could feel the darkness looking back at him,

“So am I, Willow. So am I.”

“Hey! He lives!” Buffy exclaimed joyfully as Willow helped carry Alec into Buffy’s bedroom which had served as the impromptu place of hanging out for the last few days,

“Alec!” Dawn whispered before running over full speed and plowing into him hard, Willow struggled to keep them both aloft as Dawn squeezed him tightly, Alec hugging her back,

“Hey petite, miss me?” he quipped. She nodded vigorously,

“I thought I’d lost you,” Alec smiled,

“Never in a million years, love,”

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining as Alec leaned over, careful not to throw either girl off balance and kissed her gently upon her forehead. Xander walked over,

“Hey man, welcome back to the world, thought you’d taken one hit too many,” he cracked gesturing at the still bandaged young man. Alec shook his head,

“Still here, ready to fight the good fight,” The boy replied cockily. Suddenly a rush of vertigo hit him and he swooned, Willow and Dawn both braced him but he continued to topple,

Until strong arms grabbed him from behind,

“Perhaps you should fight the good fight from a sitting position,” Angel commented dryly. Alec nodded and chuckled looking up into the vampire’s face,

“Sounds like a good idea brother,” Angel hoisted the young man to his feet and helped carry him to the bed as Buffy cleared a space. As Angel set the young man down, his hand brushed against Buffy’s. For a moment, time stood still as Buffy and Angel made eye contact that seemed to last forever in their own private world.

Alec’s eyes flicked between the two then he scowled privately to himself before settling against the mattress. Buffy padded over to her brother and wrapped her arms around him squeezing him tightly and rocking him back and forth,

“Oooh! I am so glad you are not dead or crazy or anything,” Buffy commented, kissing her brothers cheek.

“Yes, we are all glad you have not gone murderously insane,” Anya commented, “We are also quite pleased that we will not have to toss you into a hole in the ground and bury you,”

The room fell silent as everyone regarded Anya with mixed expressions. Anya beamed,

“Yes, very glad,” she reiterated before settling back down next to Xander. Alec chuckled,

“Thank you…I think,” he turned to Angel, “How you holding up, mate?” Angel opened his shirt revealing several indentions from the bullet wounds he had suffered,

“If I can go a while without getting shot or stabbed I ought to be alright,” the vampire commented.

“Heard that one before,” Buffy replied smiling at him. Angel returned it gently then chuckled looking down at his healed wounds,

“It kind of itches a little,” Angel observed. Alec chuckled and removed the bandage from his shoulder, exposing a similar scar,

“The hell you say,” Alec replied grinning. Willow walked over to her lover, placing a kiss on his head and settling in next to him, brushing the white lock of hair from her face. Alec looked around and frowned,

“Where’s dad and Spike?” he asked.

“They went to go check out that temple again,” Buffy commented with a shudder. Alec’s eyes widened,

“Hell, I better get out there,” he pushed himself off the bed and nearly collapsed as his legs gave way.

“Damn it!” he cursed as Willow helped him back onto the bed, “I’m useless!”

“Don’t say that!” Dawn cried out to him. Everyone whirled to face her, astonished at the small girl’s vehemence, it was nearly staggering. Dawn herself looked a little taken aback as well as she stammered “You can still…help with research, you do have the Giles uber-smart gene,” she commented. There were a few chuckles as Willow turned to face Alec,

“She’s right, besides, if we want to make you combat capable all we need to do is stick you in a wheelchair, put some armor on you, have you grow a lance from your arm do-hickie and we can roll you into the enemy,” she cracked. Alec smiled despite himself,

“That’s not funny,” he admonished though he was chuckling quietly as were the others.

“So what’s next?” Alec asked after the laughter had died down.

“Next we strip your bandages, get you cleaned up and put some fresh clothes on you,” Willow informed him. There were a lot of “ooh’s” at this, though Dawn looked stricken a moment before sighing and looking away, unnoticed. Alec nodded,

“Yeah that’d be good actually,” the young man replied as Xander helped him to his feet.

“Whew!” the younger man gasped, waving his hand in front of his face in mock disgust, “You are ripe!” Alec chuckled,

“Anyone tell you its bad karma to pick on the wounded?” Willow punched Xander in the shoulder,

“Ow!”

“See?” Alec grinned then kissed Willow, “Thank you love,”

“Anytime dear,” she smiled prettily at Xander who scowled.

“Yeah you call it ‘karma’ I call it a ‘double cross’”, he replied.

“Now Xander don’t be bitter,” Alec admonished as Willow led him away.

Alec was propped up against the shower stall wall; it was a large open-air shower room, meant to accommodate several men; probably the sewer workers who first worked here. Alec ducked his head under the steaming water, cursing that, now crippled, he couldn’t even stand under a shower or adjust freely to keep from getting water in his face. The steam washed over him, cleaning him. Alec brought a wet hand across his bare torso, touching the rapidly healing scars that his regenerative factor had finally gotten around to tending to.

(If I was human, I would be dead) Alec thought to himself…then started when a peal of deep laughter boomed throughout the confines of the shower.

“What makes you think you are not?” it asked. Alec whirled around trying to see,

“Where are you?!” he demanded.

“What makes you think you are not dead and this is Hell?” the voice asked, sounding closer now. Alec tried to struggle to his feet but it was of no use and the strength in his arms left him, causing him to slump against the wall in impotent anger, exhaling hard and fast out of his mouth,

“Isn’t that where murderers of little boys go…Alec?” The voice asked. Alec brought his fists up to his ears,

“You can’t block me out Alec, I know you. That splash of blood, the screams, that look in their eyes as their life slowly fades out of them. You love it, you live for it,”

“NO!” Alec yelled and lurched wildly, he fell, face first into the tile floor, his nose re-breaking with a crunch. He bit his lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out from the pain and lifted himself up peering into the water pooled on the floor,

There, just behind him, a huge shape loomed dark and evil and overpowering.

“You love it!” it whispered. And with a scream of rage Alec whirled around a blade in his hand springing from his flesh…

…and connected with nothing. The only sound in the shower room was water on tile and the steady flat ‘drip drip drip’ of blood hitting the floor. Alec turned around to peer back into the water on the floor. Tentatively, Alec blew his nose hard, causing a jet of blood to spray out and then gripping his nose firmly he twisted it and with a loud crack of straightening cartilage, he put it back into place.

There was a low chuckle,

“See you soon, Alec,” it promised in a velvet voice, full of evil.





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