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chapter 14: god shiva – part III

It was darker than Anya was used to, with the no moonlight and the torrential downpour dropping buckets of water on top of her head. Alleys in Sunnydale had never been this wet, or dark. Then again, those narrow passageways only existed in one dimension at a time, not in multiple worlds where eternities were pieced together by a slender black-haired man in a seersucker suit.

Anya's gaze bounced from one blurred face to another. She could barely see Willow or make out the features of the dark-skinned vampire lurking behind her. Nothing much was visible to her at all except for the sheets of water tumbling from the sky, and Luke. He was standing under a swaying beam of light coming from what had to be the only working street lamp in New York City. He appeared relaxed, leaning boneless against an invisible wall, all comfy and smug even though his suit was clinging to his thin frame in soaked patches.

Anya hugged her arms across her chest. Spasms were twisting and turning their way through her belly. She was nervous, not afraid. Just anxious. She knew Luke wouldn't hurt her. She was his muse and held his memories in her heart. Still, her legs were trembling, and her stomach was folding into knots.

Here she was standing in the middle of an alley with a witch, a vampire (she'd sensed his origin as soon as they walked around the corner), a portal jumper, and enough magic to change the world. She felt it, surging from every open crevasse in the ground, bending every gust of wind. There was so much of it she could taste it, even through the rain.

“It is a pleasure to meet a legend, sir.” The black vampire stepped from behind Willow and moved to the edge of the light, closer to Luke. He cupped his hands together as if in prayer, and then bowed deeply while thick drops of water fell in rivulets from his long black braids.

“I am not here for you.” Luke's voice vibrated, low and deep, cutting through the night air. He dismissed the vampire's greeting with a small wave of his hand. Anya took a quick breath as she watched Luke jut his chin forward and slide his crystalline gaze from the vampire to Willow.

“The witch of my dreams, I do believe.” Luke caressed his lower lip with a fingertip as he spoke. “You've been in my way.”

Anya tried to make out Willow's expression behind the torrent. Her red hair, appearing nearly black, was pasted to her face, hiding her eyes. But Anya was intrigued by Willow's mouth as it looped slowly into a wide grin. A completely inappropriate reaction considering the circumstances, thought Anya. There was no funny going on in the alley. Nothing remotely approaching hilarity at all.

“Lucretius,” said Willow, still grinning broadly. “How ya' doin'? I'm Willow, and this here is my friend, Jacob.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, tilted his head in Jacob's direction, but didn't take his eyes off Willow.

Anya's stomach was still doing a dance.

“You know what I am?” Luke's gaze remained unwaveringly trained on Willow.

“Do you know what you are?” she replied, her smile broadening. “You're not a vampire. Not a demon of any kind. Just a creature cursed by destiny. Something like me.”

“Oh, dear. So you know you are Shemhazi's bitch,” Luke closed the distance between him and Willow so quickly that Anya jumped. He'd stepped out of the light, though, so Anya couldn't see him as clearly. She started to move toward them when a cold hand clasped shut around her wrist. Jacob held her firmly. “Let them talk,” he whispered. She pulled her arm free. Anya had no intention of stopping them from talking. She just needed to be near Luke, to witness his words. She was the keeper of his memories, and had to be close.

“No.” Jacob grabbed her again, and this time when she tried to yank free, he didn't let go.

She panicked for an instant, her body trembling from head to toe. Then she noticed the rain easing up. Less rain, less noise keeping her from her duty, she thought, as she stopped resisting Jacob's grasp. She forced her body to relax and concentrated on listening. She had to hear as many of Luke's words as she could. Even if they made little sense.

What did he mean he wasn't cursed? His existence was a reward for his stubborn, pure view of love. Only fools allowed themselves to be manipulated by physical love, he was saying, and Shemhazi's dream had been destroyed by the folly of angels. So Shemhazi found him, and rewarded him, Lucretius the philosopher, for his insight and commitment to righteousness and his unique understanding of the nature of things.

Standing in the rain in an alley in New York City with a witch, a vampire and the portal jumper just didn't seem to be the place for a discussion about angels, or someone named Shemhazi, especially when a power beyond Anya's most vivid imagination was surging beneath her feet. She glanced down at her soaked shoes, expecting to see iron tentacles grabbing her by the ankles. Instead, she glimpsed a patch of darkness out of the corner of her eye. A swirling gust of black wind was rolling into the alley. Anya's eyes widened as she watched it stand, yes, stand, and grow, doubling its size within seconds.

Her neck muscles constricted as she tried to gather oxygen into her lungs, but the witch and the portal jumper weren't paying her any attention. And the vampire was whispering over and over, under his breath like a mantra, "let them talk, let them talk."

Then, all of a sudden, it was upon them, and all Anya could do was scream.


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Carlo was nearly running down the block in front of her. He was so anxious to get to the restaurant he hadn't bothered with his usual leisurely gait. Dawn knew him well enough to have figured out that it was part of the male athletic machismo for him to prefer the slow walk, dangerous look and never show your teeth smile mystique. Then, when you pounced with the speed of a lion, you'd catch your opponent off guard. Or better still, as Carlo professed, the dude dancing opposite you in the ring never suspects the blow that knocks him on his ass.

But tonight, her man was in a hurry. His mom's telephone message hadn't sounded all that mysterious to Dawn. But with Tommy Dugan's death the night before, Carlo had started acting pretty skittish as soon as they'd walked out of the apartment. Add to that, he'd had the luxury of spending the better part of a day with Spike, and jeez, Spike was a vampire. No big must-deal for her and Buffy, but Carlo had been a little - shall we say - wigged. It was a whole new kind of bizzaro world for Dawn's streetwise boxer baby.

“Hey, slow down, Speedy Gonzalez,” she teased.

“Hey yourself, California Girl,” he shouted over his shoulder, not changing his pace. “Not my favorite cartoon there, girlfriend. Doesn't exactly paint the best pic of my peeps.”

"Okay, okay, sorry.” They were turning the corner a few blocks from the restaurant. She hoped Buffy and Spike hadn't come this way. Then she remembered that Buffy didn't know the short cut to the restaurant from their apartment. Carlo had shown her this route a few days after she'd started working at Mom's after school. Cut travel time in half if that was the goal. But for them, it allowed extra alone time for talking, at first, and later for making out – just a little. Not that they'd gone further than second base, she shook her head as she hurried to catch up with Carlo. And what the heck was ‘second base' about anyway? Jeez.

“You smell something?” Carlo suddenly stopped.

Catching up with him, she gave the air a good sniff. “Yeah, and it's not good.”

They were about fifty yards from the restaurant. There were no lights inside. Odd. And she noticed for the first time that it had started to rain. It was also darker than she'd ever thought possible outside. Very odd in New York in the Bronx. The city beamed with lights, noise, and people. But thinking back on their walk from the apartment to the restaurant, Dawn realized the streets had been pretty much void of the things she'd grown used to from the big bad city.

Carlo turned to face her. “Smells like a shit load of dead.”

Dawn doubled forward and nearly fell on the cement sidewalk as a dense wave of pain hit her in the back of the throat. She hadn't had a headache in – god only knew how long. She placed both of her hands over her face as she slumped to her knees. Carlo was at her side in seconds.

“God, Dawn. What's wrong, girl?” He sounded scared. For the second time in 24-hours, she could hear the fear in his voice. First, there'd been Tommy, and now…


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Dawn was laying on the sidewalk. She'd dropped to her knees all of a sudden. It freaked Carlo the fuck out. What the hell was going on? Something was wrong at the restaurant. He could feel it. Something was wrong with Dawn. He could see that. And the streets of New York City stank more worse than anything he'd ever smelled. And in N.Y.C. that was more than a little bit.

“Babe, what the shit is going on?”

Dawn's eyes were wild. She looked – he couldn't explain it. But she didn't look real.

He lifted her up from the pavement. Her body collapsed completely into his arms as he scooped her from the ground. He thought he heard her moan, ever so softly, but he wasn't certain.

He had to get Dawn to the restaurant. Safe. Then his Mom would know what to do. She'd figure out the nasty smell. Tell him what to do next. Mom was something else. She wouldn't even blink an eye if she met Spike. She hadn't even freaked as much as Carlo thought she would when he told her about Tommy.

But as Carlo carried Dawn toward the restaurant, he couldn't help but notice the rain and the darkness. There were no lights anywhere. His mom needed light to sort through the books and organize the kitchen shelves. Make certain every item was in place for business the next day. Once a month was all she ever needed to get her books in order and scope out the restaurant from top to bottom.

Carlo paused, holding Dawn in his arms. This wasn't right. Nothing was right. He hugged Dawn's unconscious body to his own. He didn't want to walk into the restaurant. He didn't want to see what he suddenly knew he'd see. He didn't want to know what he suddenly knew. But most of all, he didn't want to believe he was right.


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Spike's antenna was up. Buffy could tell by how he stayed within arms reach of her. She knew he knew she could take care of herself. But he was doing that thing he did sometimes (okay, not that recently, but before) when he'd treat her as if she were porcelain or china or something nobody bought unless it was on a cable TV show.

"Spike, do you think we'll find Jacob in the alley?" Buffy figured she might as well talk business. Spike liked to zero in on the prospect of a good fight. And most certainly, Jacob had given Spike a good dose of that the last time they'd tussled.

“Yeah.” Non-verbal Spike was always a treat, she sighed.

It had taken them what felt like a long time to make their way to the alley behind Mom's Restaurant. Except they weren't there yet exactly, but at least they were close. The big talk about memories and feelings and stuff had slowed their progress. Sure, neither one of them had forgotten how important it was to find Jacob and convince him to tell more about what he knew about the portal jumper. But the conversation about stolen thoughts and forgotten memories had been a very good thing as far as Buffy was concerned.

However, within the last few blocks, Spike had turned into quiet, sulky guy.

“What's up?” Buffy insisted, figuring he was sensing something she wasn't.

It was dark. Obviously. Middle of the night and all. And it was smelly, too. But other than the dark and the stench, New York City was pretty much being New York City to Buffy.

“Don't know details, pet. But it's not good,” he finally muttered, which wasn't like Spike. Even if she wasn't asking for it, he usually told her exactly what she needed to know. Most important was that he didn't hesitate before saying it. No wish or wash from Spike.

“Hey, we're almost here and…” Buffy stopped talking as she got a jolt of vampire vibe she wasn't expecting, and it nearly knocked her to the pavement. It wasn't coming from the walking dead strolling next to her either. “Damn. Sure are a lot of vamps in the neighborhood all of a sudden.”

“No, love, don't believe that's the case,” Spike said as they turned the corner onto the block where the restaurant was located.

“Meaning?”

Spike stopped and turned to look at her, his hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his duster and his eyes were stern. Yeah, that was the word. For an instant, he reminded her of Giles. All serious and thoughtful and concerned. She almost expected him to pull out a pair of glasses and clean the lenses.

“There are only two vampires in this part of town tonight,” he said.

“Well, okay, but one of them is packing a nuclear wallop if my bat senses are at all reliable,” Buffy added, her voice was slightly nervous as she picked up another wave of powerfully bad vamp energy. She hid the sudden shiver that shook her. The prospect of going toe-to-toe with a sea of vamps hadn't made her nerves this tingly since she was sixteen.

“Spike.” She couldn't pull her gaze away from his. “What's happening?”

“Jacob's here, and he's got friends.”

“The portal jumper?”

“And some.”

Spike grabbed her arm and dragged her into a nearby alley. Not the one behind Mom's Restaurant where they'd met Jacob the night before either. But a new one.

“Why are we stopping here?” Buffy asked. She wanted to keep moving. Get to the restaurant. The bad mojo was coming from that direction.

"Roof tops," Spike raised his head and glanced up. "Want to look down on what's in that alley before meeting it face-to-face, pet."

Spike jumped on top of a nearby dumpster, gripped hold of the iron rail of a hanging fire escape and hurled himself onto the roof of a brick building. Buffy was right behind him, pausing only to wipe the rain from her eyes. It was suddenly falling from the sky in buckets. However, Buffy could see well enough to keep up with Spike as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop toward the alley behind Mom's Restaurant.

to be continued…





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