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Spike opened his eyes and sat on the makeshift
bed, his crypt was lit by candle-light, he could already
smell the twilight.
He shrugged and closed his eyes
covering his face with his left hand, touching the moisture on his
face.
He had been crying in his sleep.
“I’m beyond pathetic” he grumbled shaking his head. “It’s not
like I didn’t have a choice, back
then.” He continued getting up from the bed and putting on his
jeans and t-shirt.
He didn’t often think or dream about when he was still alive. He
had made a choice, he had accepted it, he
had done it because he had believed he was doing the right thing.
He still did.
Carrying a double identity for more than a century hadn’t been
easy…actually it had been damned difficult.
There had been times, he had just told his soul to sod off and
enjoyed being a vampire, he had needed
it, not to go crazy.
There had been times he had just taken a vacation from his
assignments…yet, in the end, he had always returned to it, to his
calling, his sacred duty.
“Speaking of which…” he murmured.
Out of habit he turned and looked around making sure he was alone
in his crypt, then let out a tired chuckle.
He lived alone, his chipped status had
alienated him from the vampire community in Sunnydale, which on an
extent was fine by him.
He knelt behind his bed, and took from under it a backpack.
His backpack. He took a floppy from it. He put his trusty duster
on and slipped the floppy on the inside pocket of it.
The day computers had been invented had been one of the happiest
in Spike’s unlife. It had made everything easier. He had reports
about his activities to write. There had been times it had been
really difficult to write and hand them.
The years spent with Angelus had been the hardest…that wanker had
been like an hawk…always hovering over
his shoulders, always keeping tracks of his movements.
After he had been cursed it had been a piece of cake. Dru was
psychic, but she was mad…and she had trusted him.
Thinking of her, as always, hurt.
There had been times he had hurt so deep within that
he’d actually cursed his soul…he had to
laugh while he left his crypt.
When he was alive, he hadn’t known love,
funny how being a vampire and being in love with one of them had
taught him that.
He had said once, he would have tortured her into loving him again.
He wished he had been really able to do it.
He had gained his nickname for his habit of torturing people with
railroad spikes, little most of the watchers knew, that the people
he had tortured had been vampires, or criminals, or just people
who planned to end the world.
The Council, had given him his nicknames and he had found them
amusing, trust the old bastards to keep up the facade.
The Eletti would have given the CIA a run for their money.
He had tried to torture Drusilla…and part of him had enjoyed it…he
lived with a demon within himself after all, and contrary to Angel,
he didn’t have time to brood…he couldn’t soak in regret for what
he did, he couldn’t afford that weakness.
Contrary to Angel he had had a soul when he had killed the first
person as a vampire…he had mourned over each life he had taken, he
had forced himself to, not to lose his humanity…but he hadn’t ever
had time to brood over them…if he had, he would have probably
staked himself.
Drusilla had appreciated the effort, though…and for a while
everything had been perfect. Part of him, hadn’t really wanted to
come back to her, but his contacts from the Eletti had warned him
that his fruitcake of a girlfriend, had been on another of her
‘let’s-end-the-world-wanna-come-?’ plans
and he had been practically forced to drag his ass over there, to
Brazil to stop her.
What was with vampires and the end of the world, anyway? On whom
were they going to feed if the world ended?
When they were going to realize, that on a scale of zero to ten,
in the underworld they were considered just one step above zero?
They were too humans, too hybrids.
And besides, although the world they were living in was a mess, it
was much better than Hell on Earth…
“Well, that’s an understatement, if I ever heard one”
He muttered, watching the night sky.
He had an appointment and he suspected he was late.
He hadn’t expect to fall asleep, nor to
dream about the sun.
He had to hand the report of the last months.
Since another of The Eletti had been called he had been
stuck in Sunnyhell.
He had hoped after the previous year and the hell he had been
through, they would have sent him somewhere else, but they had
refused, claiming something big was going to happen and that he
had to stay and help the Slayer, since she refused to hear from
the Council.
He lit a cigarette, while quickly heading toward the rendezvous
point. He didn’t know what to do of Buffy Summers.
His demon was obsessed with her. It hated her
guts, it longed for her blood - well, his demon longed for anyone’s
blood-…and wanted her dead, his soul respected and liked her…it
enjoyed their fights and bantering.
All in all, Buffy Summers exasperated the hell out of him.
He had heard about her even before knowing her. The Eletti always
knew about the Slayers, about who they were, who their watchers
were. They were linked after all.
He had never meant to really kill her …despite what he had told
to the Annoying One _killing the little, obnoxious bastard had
been one of the most enjoyable experiences of his life _ and
Drusilla, he had just stepped over to stop that stupid crap about
St. Vigeous night.
Yet when he had seen her in action, that first night outside the
Bronze… his demon had actually roared with pleasure.
His demon had longed for her blood, it had wanted her dead that
night at her school.
He had really hunted her, played with her...and enjoyed it.
Luckily, in the very end his soul
and Buffy’s mom had stepped over.
They had forgiven him for the first slayer he had killed, they had
asked him to kill the second…killing a third would have made him
intimately acquainted with a stake, he had no doubts about that.
He had planned to distract Drusilla from that idea, but then, a
bunch of psychos had come to Sunnydale, first the git who had put
that spell on the Halloween costumes, then that boy who wanted to
be a vampire.
“People are strange…” Hhe whispered taking a drag from his
cigarette. Then the other Slayer had come up, and he had been
stuck on that damned wheelchair…Drusilla had regained her strength
and of course the first thing she had done was assembling
the pieces of the Judge
< Why did I want her cured in the first place? Oh, yes…I love
her!>
He shook his head and grimaced at the thought of the following
months. Of course since his life wasn’t already enough difficult,
Angel had to lose his soul, just when he had been incapacitated.
He had lost his soul for a moment of happiness with the Slayer of
all people!
He wished he could tell Buffy about his real identity, just to
tell her how utterly stupid she had been to sleep with a
vampire…she was the slayer, for god’s sake!
When Angelus had told him how he had lost his soul he almost
couldn’t believe it.
Years of practice, had taught him to mask his real feelings, but
he had felt for her.
He knew how cruel Angelus could be, his
then girlfriend had been an unliving proof of it. After all he had
been activated because of Angelus.
He hadn’t even had the chance to contact the Eletti, perhaps they
would have helped Angel, they would
have given his soul back to him.
He had known he couldn’t rely on Giles. The Watchers usually
didn’t know about the Eletti.
Although he had been informed Giles knew about the Eletti, he
couldn’t risk to blow his cover asking
for his help.
He sometimes felt, that the Watcher suspected about him.
He made a mental note to himself to check on him as soon as
possible.
Back then, though, he had just hoped, that someone in the Council,
contacted the Eletti, but it had been all for naught.
Angelus had taken Dru away from him, had killed the Watcher’s
girlfriend, he had even scared poor Willow half to death first
attacking her,
then hanging her goldfishes like Christmas lights….all to hurt
Buffy.
Angelus was a sick, sick vampire.
He’d been aware that Angel was dangerous since the beginning. He
had half hoped he was still his old self when he had seen him that
night at the High School, he would have
quickly dusted him, pretending he was furious with him for leaving
them.
When he had found out about his soul, he had been scared
shitless.
Whether it had been a gift, or permanent, he probably would have
talked to him, for the first time he would have had some aid, it
would have made things easier for him,
unfortunately his soul hadn’t been a gift, it had
been a curse.
He knew Angel had been extremely dangerous, he’d had a gut
feeling about that whole matter since the beginning.
He had known that if he had lost his soul hell would have broken
loose.
Facts had almost proven him right. Almost.
First the Judge. He had been left waiting and hoping the Slayer
and her chums would have stopped him.
Being alone, though, had given him the chance to contact the
Eletti and to wait for their instructions.
They had told him to wait and see.
Then Achatala. He had been tempted to just sod off the
orders, tell the Slayer about his calling, contact the Council and
the Eletti and give Angelus a piece of his fist.
Of course, they had forbidden him to do that. Under no
circumstances the world had to know about them. Their calling was
even more a secret than the Slayers’. That’s why he didn’t know
who the other active Eletti were.
That’s why he had been forced to kill the first Slayer.
…that and because Angelus wanted to turn her.
His orders had been to help the Slayer, then get the hell out of
Sunnydale and go to
South America
where he was needed.
He had to admit Drusilla had surprised him, then. First she had
killed the other Slayer, then had
kidnapped Giles.
Had it been for him, he’d have let Giles die.
He wouldn’t have been happy about it, he had come to respect him
after he’d had the gall to come alone to the factory and hit
Angelus with that flaming bat.
He had been sure he would have killed Angelus. He knew about him,
he knew how dangerous he could
be.
He knew more about him than the whole Scooby Gang.
He also knew, first hand, that Watchers were trained to bear
physical torture.
Watchers were trained to die if necessary.
He had known he wouldn’t talk.
To this day he was still proud of him. Giles
hadn’t asked for mercy, hadn’t begged Angelus to stop, he had
barely screamed.
His training and his hatred for what Angelus had done to the
people he loved had been a shield for him.
Then Buffy had told him Drusilla would die if Giles did. He had
believed her, he had been sure she would be dust whether Angelus
had killed Giles.
What was he supposed to do? He loved Drusilla, both his demon and
his soul loved her. He had given up everything
for his calling, he had given up his *life* for his calling, to
save the world.
He hadn’t been ready to give up on Drusilla.
For once both his soul and his demon had agreed.
So he had talked to her, convincing her to take matters in her
hands and to go easy on him.
Of course she had been able to make him talk.
Trust Drusilla, to be more effective than Angelus with mental
torture. Like sire, like childe, indeed.
Luckily for them all, Buffy had shown up. He
had finally had the chance to hit Angelus. He had wished to
do so, for the longest time.
He had hit him for what he had done to Dru so long ago, for what
he had done to Buffy and her loved ones, for what he had put him
through.
He had wished he had smashed that sick brain in, instead, just
before he was leaving with Dru he had seen he was about to kill
Buffy.
He hadn’t seen that Achatala was about to open, he had just
thought, to get the hell out of that place.
Only later had he been informed through his contacts about what
had happened.
Just after Dru had left him, he had been
ordered to come back to Sunnydale, to check things out and see how
things were going on its Hellmouth.
He had put on his show and in the meantime had looked for new
threats.
Angel had his soul and was fighting the good fight.
His little speech about love had put a
distance between him and Buffy, for a little while, at least.
He had really been heartbroken but not *that* heartbroken.
After he had come back to Dru and helped
preventing another of her crazy plans, he had come back to
Sunnydale, just in time, to help in preventing the
Ascension.
Actually it had been a great time, he had worked alone, he had
been totally alone for the first time in decades, free to act how
he wanted, free to be himself for a
change.
There hadn’t been minions, there hadn’t been Drusilla. He had
worked on his own. He had been some kind of a
guardian angel to the Scooby Gang.
After the Ascension he had just begun to plan a vacation, when
they had given him another assignment.
The Gem of Amara. He had to find it and
destroy it.
Something had happened, then. When he had put
that damn ring on, he had wanted to keep it to himself. He
had been able to go out in the sun. For the
first time in over a century he had been out in the sun and he had
enjoyed it.
He fought the good fight.
Of course his methods were quite questionable, to keep up his
facade he killed, drained people
but he was one of the good guys, more or less.
He had thought he deserved to be able to go out in the sun, to
touch a cross without fearing third degree burnt wounds.
He had thought he had deserved a
little reward, his fights with the Slayer had made him come
to his senses.
For the first time he had been sure he could have killed her if he
had really wanted to.
He was invincible.
He’d felt more powerful than he remembered ever being.
So he had given it to her. Of course he
couldn’t have *just* given it to her. He had pushed
her buttons, feeding her anger.
She had been able to take that ring off, and in the process,
besides risking his unlife, he had
betrayed the precarious trust she had had on him.
He hadn’t missed the look of hurt she had given him.
He hadn’t liked it, but no one had ever said,
his was an easy job.
His feeling weren’t supposed to enter the picture, he wasn’t even
supposed to *have* feelings.
When he had known Buffy had sent the ring to Angel, he hadn’t been
surprised, actually he had expected that.
He had wondered, though, whether Buffy
had been thinking straight when she had given that ring to Angel.
He had been tempted to just shook her by her
shoulders and tell her, “Are you bloody crazy or what?
What if he loses his soul again? How the hell are you going
to kill him if he has that ring on? What if
seeing the sun gives him a happy?”
When he had known about that, he had sent his soul to a little
well deserved vacation and had gone to Los Angeles, with the clear
goal of taking
the ring back, kill the bastard once and for all and enjoying
every minute of it.
He had failed, of course. Little did he know,
that Angel was protected by the Powers that Be.
Luckily, deep down…very deep down, Angel
was a smart guy…he had later been informed he had destroyed the
ring.
He had to admit his respect for him had raised then, it meant he
was quite serious with his willingness to help the helpless.
He had been sent to Sunnydale, again as a permanent assignment,
since Buffy had left the Council and its resources.
That’s
when he had been neutered. To say he hadn’t
been happy about it, meant using an euphemism. He had been
as mad as hell.
When he had contacted the Eletti they had told him to ask for the
Slayer’s help.
That’s
how he had found himself in the dorm room. He
could have talked to the Slayer and tell her about his real
identity…instead he had found Willow.
He had been forced to put on an act.
He had already known he couldn’t hurt humans, it had been his way
to let Buffy know about it.
He recalled that night with fondness. Trust
Willow Rosenberg to comfort a vampire, and trust him to comfort a
heart-broken human in his own way.
He'd always liked Willow, more
than he was ready to admit.
He had escaped and come back to Harm, a few weeks later she had
kicked him out and he had been alone and defenseless and had
almost starved.
He had gone to the Watcher asking for his help, after all,
in a twisted way they were peers.
He had lived with the Watcher for a while,
seeing how he had felt useless and old…without his slayer.
He had to admit he hadn’t really liked Buffy during that period.
That man had given up his whole life for her, and she
had barely remembered he was still
alive.
He made another mental note to himself to do something for the two
of them…they really needed to talk things out.
At the beginning he had thought he couldn’t hurt demons…that,
after all was his real goal…hurting humans was a side effect.
One he didn’t particularly enjoy, but it had been necessary.
Not many vampires would have considered him a believable master,
whether he had been feeding from animals.
He had been depressed, he had really wanted to stake himself.
He had begun questioning the whole point of
his existence. He had lost Drusilla, he
had believed he couldn’t hurt demons, he hadn’t very believable as
enemy any more.
Luckily Willow and Xander had saved him, Willow showing some
concern for him and Xander telling him about the end of the world.
They had dragged him with them, when actually he would have needed
to act on his own.
They wouldn’t leave him alone when he needed to research, that’s
why he had humiliated them.
He knew how to push people’s buttons.
His training as watcher, with the Eletti and with Angelus
had taught him that.
His swift researches had been to no avail, so he had just joined
them, thinking he couldn’t do anything to help them.
He had just watched them fight…then he had
discovered he could still hurt demons.
He had really wanted to help them, instead he had almost screwed
things up tossing that demon in the Hellmouth, but how was he
supposed to know those demons were the sacrifice?
What was it with demons and their willingness to go all kamikaze
just to end the world? Granted, as human he
had consciously given up his life…but he had done that to *save*
the world.
The following months had been hard on him. He had been through
hell. It had been difficult to keep up his cover, kicking
demons’ asses, and finding out about
Adam and his plan….and mostly helping
the Slayer and her chums to stop him….without them knowing about
it.
In a
way he had blown up his cover, when he had openly started fighting
demons, officially to satisfy his thirst for violence.
The local demons had him on their
shit lists, but he wasn’t worried about that, he could take care
of himself.
Perhaps Buffy and her friends wondered why he hadn’t done
something concrete to get rid of the chip, truth was he had been
ordered not to take
it off. As long as he had that damned chip on,
he would have had an excuse to hang around the Slayer and kill
demons.
Granted, he rather preferred to be chipless, but he obeyed orders.
He had to smile at the image they all had of him.
An image he had carefully crafted over the years.
He wasn’t impulsive, contrary to popular
belief he carefully planned everything he did. All of his
misses had been planned to the least detail.
He had a tough control on himself.
The facade he put on had been mastered with years of practice, and
strong nerves.
If he had really been that reckless, he
wouldn’t have lasted a month with Angelus, Darla and Drusilla.
The Eletti had chosen him for his quick, sharp,
mind, for his cold blood, for his ability to see through
people and for his honesty.
He was probably one of the eldest among the active Eletti.
He knew there were ten of them all over the world, one for each
hot spot.
They all fought to avoid the end of the world.
One would probably think that when they were alive they had been
unsteady human beings, cold blooded killers…on the contrary, the
Eletti only picked up the purest, the bravest, the more stable
among them.
He still recalled the day he had been contacted to become one of
the Eletti.
How young, how idealist and willing to help
the Slayer he had been.
He shook his head while looking around, spotting the guy he was
supposed to meet.
He saw him across the park. It was a young
man, dressed in jeans and black sweater. He had short
ash-blond hair. He sniffed the air, he had no
smell and his heart beat was very slow, almost inaudible.
He smiled, he was his contact.
He looked around making sure no one was watching them, then got
close to him saying aloud, “Isn’t it a bit late for you to be
around in the
park, mate?”
The young man tilted his head up and
met his eyes.
The look in his brown eyes was unmistakable.
He was training to become one of them.
The man cleared his throat then said, “I enjoy the quiet of the
night…”
Spike noticed he had no accent, he shrugged and looking around
said, “The night is never quiet, mate…you always have to look
behind your shoulders”
“I have eyes behind my shoulders, I’m not afraid” The young man
quietly said.
Spike bit his tongue not to chuckle at that old phrase. The young
man ran his right hand through
his hair, he saw on his pinky finger the ring with the sapphire on
it.
All of them had one of those rings. When they
were activated they put it off. The Sapphire, meant
fidelity.
< To stand against the darkness. To be the
light within the darkness. >
The young man looked around then said, “You’re
late…”
“I know, but…” He surprised him, punching him in the face. The
violent pain which exploded in his head assured him, the man was
still alive.
He couldn’t ever be too sure about his contacts.
God knew what would happen if the Eletti were discovered.
“Hey, what was that for?”
The man asked rubbing his jaw.
Spike shook his head, trying to clear it from the pain then said,
“Just wanted to make sure of something, mate…nothing personal”
“If you say so…” The man looked at him then asked, “Do you have
it?”
Spike nodded, then handed him the floppy. He wasn’t worried about
its contents, they were encrypted and only a few people knew the
codes. He just loved the modern technology.
Writing his reports in obscure and very dead languages hadn’t been
pleasant.
The young man accepted it, Spike looked at him and asked, “What
are the orders?”
“Stick around and keep a close eye on the Slayer and protect her…with
your life if necessary…she’s important, very important.”
Spike nodded tempted for an instant to say aloud, “Duh!
She’s the Slayer, you pillock!”
He shook his head and asked,
“What about the others?”
“The usual…keep tracks of the witch’s progresses, keep a special
eye on the former demon, protect her boyfriend…”
“What about the Watcher? He knows about us and
I think he suspects about me…”
“Keep an eye on him, you know how dangerous he can be with magic.
Do you still have the paper and the ingredients?”
Spike nodded.
“Do you know how to perform the rituals?”
“Yes, I do…” He said quietly.
He had requested and obtained the spell’s formula which was used
on the Eletti when they were activated.
It was a spell, which bound the soul of a person to its body in
case the said person was vamped. It was permanent, there weren’t
clauses.
He shuddered at the mere idea of one of
them turned.
They would make powerful and deadly vampires, one of them was a
slayer, two of them knew and practiced magic and were damn good at
it, one was a former demon, the other
one was apparently just an average guy with his heart in
the right place, ready to die for each one of them in a heartbeat…
if Xander Harris was ever vamped he would be the more dangerous
of them.
He sometimes reminded him of Angelus.
He suspected that was one of the reasons, the boy hated Angel so
much. He could see all too clearly his
darkness.
He had the spell ready, just in case.
“What if he knows?” Spike asked, although he already knew the
answer.
The man cocked an eyebrow at him and said, “What do you think?
Under no circumstance…”
“The world has to know about us…I know that.”
He said in a bored voice.
The man nodded, he looked around then gave handed him a blue
diskette saying, “I don’t know what is this…but they told
me to say this, ‘Heta7tanatos’ ”
Spike blinked at the man’s words and asked, “Are you sure?”
The man nodded and said, “I’m still training, I get what tanatos
is…but what about the other…”
“Nothing, now get the hell out of here and tell them I’ll take
care of everything and they’ll hear from me very soon…” He paused
then added, “tell them, if they’re right, I’ll need another Eletti
here pronto…”
“Is it so bad?”
The man asked.
For the first time Spike caught insecurity in that man’s eyes.
He sighed, if what the Eletti were saying was true, the covers of
all them were at stake, and so was the world, last time he had
heard that phrase, he had been forced to kill a whole bunch of
people who were planning to open a hellmouth…hence gaining his
nickname of William The Bloody.
Spike was about to answer and tell him that it was indeed very
bad, so bad that he could be forced to ask for the Slayer
and her friends’ help, when thanks to
his enhanced hearing he caught noise of a battle nearby.
< That’s the last thing I need right
now >
He thought all but sighing.
He morphed in his game face.
“Oh, crap!”
The man murmured hearing the people fighting.
Spike got up, hiding the diskette in a
pocket of his duster, he looked at him and hissed, “Get the hell
away from here, and tell them we need help, as soon as possible…heta7tanatos
has probably begun ”
The man opened his mouth, Spike growled
and the man got up from the bench, running then away
from him.
Spike closed his eyes, quickly collecting his thoughts, and trying
to form a plan.
He had totally ignored the signs,
heta7tanatos…that word kept
echoing in his mind while he quickly headed toward the noise.
Heta7tanatos.
One of the Eletti had blown up his cover, and someone was looking
for them all, to end the world.
He only hoped he still had time.
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