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mary magdalene – part II

Jacob snapped into an erect position in his chair. Instantly awake and fully alert, a low growl hissed through his parted, trembling lips.

He'd been in a deep slumber only seconds before, hell bent on healing his broken and bruised body after being brutalized by Spike and his fucking new girlfriend. Thankfully he'd managed a graceful exit from the pair by flying up onto a rooftop and tossing a few clever, but menacing words over his shoulder before turning and limping home. Once there, he contemplated the horror of Spike's alliance with the Slayer for a few moments before slipping into the most earnest sleep he'd known in more than a decade—until he sensed the witch.

That's what had awakened him. She'd turned the corner onto his block, danced down the street toward his door, and calmly stepped into the hallway of his home. He could feel her dark eyes searching from floor to ceiling; her need seeped through the layers of concrete separating them.

Hadn't Leviticus cursed the existence of witches even more solemnly than half-breed demons? Jacob knew his studies. These twisted brides of angels spoke syllables that changed worlds, ended destinies and maligned the un-lives of God-fearing vampires like himself. Now two of them had dared waltz into his house. He begrudgingly dismissed the big-boned one. She wasn't a threat.

He then cringed as a vision of the other witch crept into his mind, her wide mouth pressed against his cold ear, whispering thoughts and spells into his dead body. He'd been a vampire for nearly 125 years and had avoided witches for the most part, but this one was Shemhazi. She had seen God and had returned to earth unscathed.

And now she'd found him. The bloody bitch.

He pushed his palms against his temples. Things had been going so well. Then came the portal jumper, a Chosen One, Aurelian curses, old comrades and…

“Witches!” Jacob shouted as he leaped from his chair onto his feet. Lightening fast, he jumped from step to step, careening off the walls as he ascended up stairwell after stairwell. He flew over the final flight of steps, and scrambled against some force trying to pull him back toward the cellars. But it didn't stop him. He flung open the last door and then stopped abruptly as he found himself staring into the face of a startled young girl with large brown eyes and full wet lips.

She screamed and stumbled backwards. He leered, posturing mostly, for he knew this one didn't concern him. Still, the ridges of his demon began protruding from his brow. His fangs elongated in his open mouth dripped in anticipation as a deep growl oozed from the back of his throat.

“Tara!” The other one shouted and grabbed the girl by the hand, pulling her close. She angled her body so that Tara was shielded from him, then the shorter witch stood brazenly a few feet in front of his face. She held her head high and her eyes sparkled black and green as she glared at him.

So this was the one.

To be a queen of witches, he thought she was awfully small in stature, but at least she was pretty. He allowed his face to shift back to its human mask.

“No worry,” he hoped he was grinning. It made him feel more fearsome. “I won't bite you.”

“We already know that.” Her words crackled in the suddenly too quiet hallway.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the short witch, Jacob kept his back against the wall as he moved cautiously toward the living room. As quick as he was, he knew he couldn't attack both of them before a spell of some monstrous proportion was cast upon his dead flesh. He believed the more powerful of the two was a word witch. The other worked with roots and herbs, less powerful, but still potent. But the smallest sound from the redhead's blasted mouth, and he was dust. Frankly, he was surprised he wasn't dust already. Clearly, his instincts had been right. She needed his help.

“Right then. So I can't hurt you,” he mumbled, practically to himself as he continued to move slowly along the wall. “What can I do for you then, my ladies?”

“You can stop stalking us,” the red-haired girl said. “Keep still.”

Jacob froze. He wasn't certain if she'd cast a spell or simply given an order. Either way, he didn't want to take the risk. He could only hope that he'd stopped moving on his own volition.

“Willow,” said the girl named Tara. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely” she answered, keeping her eyes fixed on Jacob. “We're looking for the portal jumper. He's tracking some friends of ours and I need to find him before he finds them.”

“You're a powerful witch, girlie. Why can't you just say the word and destroy him?”

“I could,” she said, matter-of-factly. “But then my friends would die.”

“Too bad,” Jacob stepped away from the wall, confidently. “I won't help you.”

“Keep your ass against the wall,” she said as his body flew backwards, her words sticking him to the surface. “He has something I need, and I've got to get it back first, then I'll say the word.”

“If you know about the portal jumper then you know why he's here,” said Jacob, still pinned against the wall. “And you also know that as a vampire, there's no reason on God's earth I'd want to keep him from his prey.”

“He doesn't want you,” she smiled and tilted her small head slightly. “He wants the other Aurelian.”

“How come you know so fucking much?”

“I've seen God.”

“You are Shemhazi,” Jacob whispered, unable to conceal the awe in his tone.

“Only since I forgot the fear of being what I am,” she took a step closer to Jacob. “And got all comfy with what I can do.”

“You did a thought spell?” His eyes narrowed. “And fixing this won't change you back too?”

“No, not if you help me get what I want,” she smiled. Her voice was light, almost childlike. “Then I'll help you get what you want.”

“How?” Jacob barely managed to get the word out.

“The portal jumper is looking for an Aurelian. There were two in California, but one of them has a soul, and he definitely isn't looking for a vampire with a soul. Nor does he want an insane demon, who talks nonsense to headless dolls.” Willow moved away from Tara and walked into the living room. They both followed her.

“So right now in this hemisphere, there are only two vampires of Aurelian descent. We both know that only one can receive the portal jumper's gifts.” She sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and glanced around the room expectantly, as if she were waiting for a maid to bring her tea Jacob thought.

“So you help me, I'll help you,” Willow added.

“And this other Aurelian?”

Jacob was surprised when he heard the other witch's voice.

“Spike. His name is Spike,” said Tara. “And he's here in New York.”

“But you already know that,” interjected Willow, eyeing Jacob.

“You want me to dust him?”

“No,” answered Willow as Jacob noted a slight tremble in her voice. “We just need him—elsewhere.”

Daylight slipped through an opening in the heavy curtains that covered the large glass windows. He walked to the front of the fireplace and rested his elbow on the mantle. He fingered a framed platinum print by Aston Clinton of Angelus and Darla from 1895. Looking back at Willow, who had been joined on the sofa by Tara, he wondered if the witch knew about his relationship to Spike. Then he shrugged. It didn't really matter.

“So where do we begin.”

“You must contact the portal jumper,” she began. “Ask him to come to you tonight.”

“Bloody hell, witch,” he exclaimed. “Jumping right into the middle of things, hey?”

“That's what I do best.”


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“Xander!” Anya yelped as he caught her by the wrist, pulling her into his arms an instant before she could fall face down onto the pavement. She quickly wiggled free of his embrace and righted her carelessly short skirt, trying to recover her dignity he imagined. She didn't need to, he thought she looked good. Not that much different from the day he'd last seen her except her hair was now brown. But then her hair was always some color other than it had been before, so that wasn't a sign of real change.

“Well, thanks for scaring a girl half to death, Mr. Harris,” she pulled away from him, her movements were now nearly graceful after she'd just tripped over her own two feet when stepping into the crosswalk. If he didn't know better he'd think she'd deliberately maneuvered this damsel in mini-distress moment to draw him out.

“I saved you, Anya,” he said softly. “You were a second from being face down—”

“Look, I'm just fine and we have nothing to say to each other. Besides, what are you doing here?”

“It's a public park, Anya,” Xander said, struggling to keep up with her. She was practically running as she scurried across the street. She continued to pull on her clothing as she tried to distance herself from him, alternating between running her fingers nervously through her hair and straightening the too tight skirt around her hips.

“Look Xander, you haven't talked to anyone in months, so what's brought you out of the closet today?”

“You haven't seen me in months, how do you know I haven't been talking to anyone.”

“I know things,” she stopped abruptly causing Xander to stumble into her back. “Get off me!”

“Anya, please. I need to talk to you.” He held her by the arm and noticed she didn't pull away this time.

“For whatever reason, the spell didn't just take away a thought from me. It changed me.” He chuckled and shook his head slowly. It wasn't going to be easy to explain what was happening to him but he knew he had to tell her. He hadn't slept in days thinking about what he wanted to say. He'd left Giles' apartment at midnight and had waited outside Spike's crypt, Anya's new home, all night long, trying to figure out how he'd explain what he'd become.

“Actually, it did more than change me, it gave me a power.”

Anya only stared at him. She didn't even open her mouth in wonder. She just looked at him, her eyebrows arched in disbelief, as if he'd lost his mind. In a way, he thought he had. For the past two months, Xander had focused on Willow. The spell had not only taken away a thought but had given him a gift. He could see into the hearts and minds of those around him, and he'd seen Willow's soul first, and it scared him. So he opened his mind to her, only to her, and he forced her to see what he saw. That's how he controlled her. She didn't want to see what she'd become. She just wanted to be.

It took all of his concentration to make Willow see what she truly was, which unfortunately, turned him outwardly into a shuddering, babbling fool. He'd cowered in corners, barely able to speak and appeared nearly suicidal, even to himself. But Giles had noticed that Willow was less determined when he was around. And that was a good thing.

Then Willow left with Tara, heading for New York City, and Xander began to come back to himself. With his mind almost right again, it was time for him to explain to Anya why he'd let her leave him, and hadn't tried to get her back.

“Anya.” He still held on to her arm and grasped it even tighter, then pausing as a thought crushed inside his head. “Anya.” He managed to say.

“Yes, I'm standing right in front of you.”

“The portal jumper is here,” he whispered. “He's in the park.”

She looked around, her eyes frantically searching. Xander looked at the kids and the moms walking, playing and racing under the trees and in front of the rose bushes at the other end of the park. From the corner of his eye, a sudden movement caught his eye, he turned to see a tall blond man in a seersucker suit. A definitely odd choice of clothing for Southern California in December, he thought.

“We've got to go,” he pulled Anya to him. “Now.”

“Xander, he wants to talk to me,” Anya looked into his eyes and touched his hand with hers. “Go find Giles. Tell him what you've remembered.”

“Anya?”

“No,” she stepped away from him. “Go now. I'll be okay. He doesn't want to hurt me.”

He used his gift to look into her heart and mind, and saw that she was telling the truth.

Then she grabbed his face with both of her hands. “Please Xander. You've got to go. Now.”

He turned and ran out of the park toward Giles' apartment.


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Spike had known Dawn was awake as soon as Buffy invited him into the apartment. He also knew she wasn't alone. He'd heard the galloping heartbeat of the boy hunched in the corner, doing his best impersonation of the invisible man. He'd also heard Dawn's heart race when Buffy called him by name. If Dawn hadn't been sneaking around with this boy, she'd have been really glad to see him.

Spike rolled over onto his side in Buffy's bed. She'd left him alone, which was probably a good thing. He was already feeling better, his body getting the rest it needed to heal. If she had stayed, he would not have been able to concentrate on his body, well not on the parts of his body that needed healing. Bloody hell, he squirmed under the light sheet she'd left over him. He wouldn't be able to think about anything except for the other parts of his body if she hadn't left.

He sighed and rolled over, face down in the pillow.

"Spike. You still sleep?”

It was Buffy. "And if I say yes, gonna call me a liar?"

He flipped over, sat up in the bed and stared at her. She looked really good. He couldn't imagine how she'd managed it, he was certain she hadn't slept all night. Most likely, she'd curled up in the sodding chair he'd seen in the living room and closed her eyes for a few moments during which she worried herself with guilt about kissing him and caring for his wounds.

"No." She stepped further into the room. “Not gonna say that.”

Buffy walked over to the window. “Really came in to check on the curtains. Didn't want you burning up before we had another chance to talk."

“Okay. Let's talk now.”

“Portal Jumper.”

“Yeah, a legend among vampires, in particular, Aurelians.”

“What's the big deal?”

“Can make us human again.”

“Wow.”

“Gets better,” Spike swung his legs onto the floor, stood up and walked over to the window where Buffy was standing, facing him. “We become human, but keep all our vamp powers and needs.”

Spike heard Buffy's breath catch as he moved closer to her.

“Scary,” she said softly. “But if this is all about vampires, why was the portal jumper after Dawn?”

“Don't know, pet.”

“We're missing something, aren't we?”

“Believe so, love.”

“Your friend Jacob,” she started, then suddenly stopped and turned her back to him. “Can he help us?”

“We can ask him.”

“You know where to find him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's find him tonight, okay?”

Buffy's breathing hadn't calmed any as she turned away from the window to look at Spike. He started to smile, but then decided not to. “Yes, love, we'll go at dust.”

“Okay.” Buffy said firmly, then turned abruptly and walked to the door, leaving Spike at the window. “Wanna go back to bed?”

“Definitely.” Spike moved his head from side to side as a small grin creased the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, Spike!” Buffy rolled her eyes, stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Now that was the Buffy he knew and loved, thought Spike as he hopped back in bed and pulled the covers up over his head.

to be continued…






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