I wake up way too early, way before sunset, so I have to find something to do with my time. Again, I'm back in the vaults below the city, this time, looking for some way to find whatever the hell Dru wanted. I'm still wishing it's got some vampirizing phenomena on humans. I want--
Yeah, say it. I want the Slayer in the palm of my hand.
So I'm in this library, right? It's not really a library, it's just this collection of books that I've got in these trunks, hidden away. I've worked really hard, stealing this information from all around, and I don't intend for it to go to waste.
So I turn to the trunk that's labeled 'magic talismans'.
Actually, I turn to the trunk labeled 'damned bitchin' anarchist punk bastard', but that's only because I have a carefully coded archiving system, in case anyone happens to stumble on these chests. Wouldn't want them to find anything and make off with it, now.
Not that any of the vamps hanging around know the first thing about magic, anymore. We're a dying breed, and all that rot.
There are hundreds and hundreds of talismans described in the annals of the higher demons. I've actually got a few of them, down in the depths, under a false bottom and half-buried in cobwebs. But those aren't where I turn first - I figure, the cult leaders would probably have tried to design this sort of thing.
All that wanting to be vampire crap. Some of them believed it, too, and a few of those were powerful enough to have done it. Might be the right place to start.
I kick some of the dust away with my boot-heel, and settle down in the shadows, in the corner away from the manhole cover. Then, I lean back against the wall and pick up the first volume.
I start to read.
~
It's at least three hours later, but I might have found something. My eyes are gritty and full of sand - someone needs to clean up down here, under the city. There are layers and layers of grime and filth down here, and no one taking care of the place.
Horribly irresponsible of the city council, if you ask me.
I need someone to find out what the Watcher might know about this little trinket - that's the problem - when Dru finds me.
I stare at her, musty old book under my arm and just about to blow out the kerosene lamp. She purrs. "Did you find it yet?"
I shrug my shoulders, and turn the flame down low. "I might have found something. You could - give me a little more to work with, though, pet."
She dances out of reach when I move to put my hand around her arm. I grab her, and she starts to pout, then slaps me. "No, Spike! You hum, and you don't have the same name anymore."
I don't think about that.
She looks at the book in my hand, and runs her fingers over it delicately. "Does this say where you'll find my necklace?"
I hold out the brown leather book to her, and she shrinks away instinctively. I answer, "It might just tell us who does."
The volume mentioned a ruby that might have the kinds of powers Dru was looking for, but she flips the pages and points, with an excited breath. "That's it!"
I look down. I groan. My baby's been playing with my mind again, giving it suggestions.
It's the reference to the necklace that temporarily gives humans the powers and natures of vampires.
She follows me out the door, and I go to find the man who might be able to get me more information on the whereabouts of the necklace - Ryan O'Reily. He said he could get into the bloody Watcher's house, and I need his stuff. I'm invited, but I'd rather keep my nose clean this time, at least until I'm ready. I have to be there when she puts it on. I have to see her change, her face--
God, this is gonna be beautiful.
~
"I dunno, Spike."
"But you could do it."
Dru is showing his slow-witted brother how to fold origami. He leans forward, and asks suddenly, "She's not gonna hurt Cyril, is she? Cause if she does--"
I sigh with impatience. All these humans and their attachments to one another-- "No, O'Reily. She's not gonna bloody hurt him. She's bored, and she likes people alive when she's bored."
He nods, cautiously, and relaxes. "Anyway. I can go take a look around the English guy's place. I'll go in tomorrow - it's too late, tonight. Got a friend staying with him right now. I can see if he knows what's going on."
"A friend? With the Watcher?"
What kind of friendly motherfucker could O'Reily know that lives with the Watcher? Have to be careful of this. It's a loose end.
He leans forward, and I get the smell of a feral animal assault my nostrils. "Well. Sort of a friend."
I feel more comfortable.
I've shown him the book, and what the necklace is supposed to look like. He's caught the idea, so I trust that he can get it done - whatever O'Reily is, he's not stupid or incompetent. I get up to leave, and Dru pokes Cyril in the nose with the dragon she's holding. He is watching her, wary, like an animal caught in a trap. She pats his head, and I see the hairs on his arms stand up.
I agreed to watch his idiot brother for a little while so that he can finish what he needs to do before packing it in for the night. It's payment for bursting in on the Watcher, and I say, fair enough. We open the door, and before he goes, he grabs my arm gently. I grit my teeth, aching to break his neck. He says, "If your girlfriend hurts him--"
I interrupt with, "She's leaving right now, don't worry." He raises an eyebrow, and Dru prances to my side. I stop my free hand from trying to stroke her hair, say to her gently, "Baby. You don't have to go, you know--"
Her heels click out the door, and she doesn't look at me once before she leaves. I am erased, to her, a means to an end. I wonder if Angelus ever had this trouble. O'Reily looks at Cyril, and at me, and says, "If someone drops by, don't be surprised."
I go to sit on his couch, and pick up the TV guide. "Oh, don't worry. I won't."
"And if they're coming from Adebisi's--"
I lean forward, and put my lips into the approximation of a snarl. "IF they're Adebisi's men, I'll vacuum." He frowns, but doesn't argue as he shuts the door with a bang behind him.
~
Cyril actually isn't too bad. He's scared of me, and well he should be. Even though I can't technically hurt him, there are lots of things I can do to make his life hell. There's something about him that says berserker, and so we leave each other alone; he goes and starts boxing with a body-bag - and isn't that a lovely name for it - and I watch TV some more. O'Reily doesn't get cable though, and so I flip through inane television before, with a snarl, I finally get up and find his cable outlet. I go out into the hall, and track the wire to its source. From there, it's only a few tweaks with some pliers before I can go back and watch HBO.
That was the plan, anyway.
I come back to the apartment, and stare into the eyes of the second Slayer. How Faith got out of prison, I'm only going to guess. She blinks at me a few times, and then comes after me with a hiss.
A kitten with claws. Oh, lovely. I close my eyes, and try to block her punches without keeling over from a migraine.
Cyril hears the noise, and hits her with a cry. Better the evil you recognize, maybe? She turns on him, then, recognizing him, goes back to kicking my ass again. I taste warm blood in my mouth - and that's rare enough as it is that I try and enjoy it - and fall down to the floor.
She raises a boot to smash my face in, when O'Reily comes back.
"Faith! You idiot!
I stop and stare at O'Reily, unable to keep the shock from my face. With a grunt, I manage to pull myself to a sitting position - three of my ribs are broken at least, thank you very much, BITCH - and say, "What the bloody hell is going on!" I huff, and add, "Does everyone end up knowing your business in this damned town?"
Faith spits on me, and I reach out to sweep her feet out from under her. But I double over in pain again when the white hot poker starts to stab into my left temple. And thank you, goddamned soldier boys.
I settle for a dangerous glare. O'Reily has a hand on her shoulder, stroking her neck and back, and it dawns on me what I've got here. Oh, bloody perfect. They're fucking.
I look at the Slayer, second model, and immediately focus on the vein pulsing in her neck. Trying not to be transfixed by it, I choke out around another mouthful of blood, "Who's side are you on today, bitch?"
She raises her foot to break another rib, and I wince. O'Reily squeezes her shoulder, though, and she settle for putting it on my chest. I tilt my head, eyeing O'Reily, and he whispers in her ear. She grins, giggles, and then puts her heel back on the floor.
He looks at me, eyebrow raised, and I nod, just a fraction, in thanks.
Cyril, meanwhile, is curled up on the couch, eyes wide and hands clasped around his knees. I wish I had a camera; people pay money for stupid pictures like that. They have galleries. Do openings. I've got an artistic eye. I could do art photos. Get hangings, stabbings. I could get back into the railway business.
O'Reily and Faith go over to the couch, and O'Reily starts murmuring to his brother. And what a pretty sight that is - I think I need a hanky.
I stand up, and clear my throat. He looks at me, angry for a minute. "What?"
"Did you find anything? We did have a deal, remember."
"Not really, and yes, I remember."
"Are you going to go back and look?"
"Tomorrow." He stands up, then faces me, saying sarcastically. "It's not like I can just prance right in. The guy I know, he'll keep his trap shut, but I kinda like to keep a low profile."
I look at Faith, who's got a smug expression between the eyes. I wonder if she really fucks as well as she does, and then looks at O'Reily again. "Is she as wild a shagger as she is a fighter?"
He puts an arm around her possessively. "Are we done for the night?"
I nod, and put my hand on the doorknob. I can hear him trying to convince his brother to get to bed, and shake my head. The man thinks with his cock, which I'm all for, but he didn't seem to get that having his brother around was one hell of a liability. I half expected those crazy motherfuckers, Keller and Beecher, to drop by tonight - I know Ryan does business with them, too - when there's a knock on the door.
I'm surprised, since my hand is already on it. Ryan calls out, "Come in, for fuck's sake, but make it quick," proving that he hasn't been living around vampires nearly long enough... and the door hits me in the forehead. The last thing I hear before my head hits the nasty carpet is, "You gonna miss all the fun, bitch."
I remember thinking quite clearly, You FUCKER, Adebisi, but then I pass out.
~
I come to, staring at Faith's crusty black boot, cheek mashed into the carpet and ears still ringing from the blow.
I don't like the looks of this at all.
My first instinct is to get to my feet and get my back to the wall, so no one can sneak up on me, but I quench it easily enough. If they wanted dead, I wouldn't have come to at all.
When I pull myself to my feet, I look around the almost black room, trying to get my bearings. I see Ryan sitting on the couch, in the dark, two dark arms wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, making it impossible for him to breath. I can barely make out his face, but he looks very sullen, very tired, and very dangerous, even despite the restraining.
No, I don't like the looks of this at all.
"Where is he?" I say.
I'm not sure who I mean - the first face that comes to mind is that crazy bitch, Adebisi. O'Reily points to the bedroom, eyes red and face raw with hate. I stand up, and shake my head. "How long was I out?"
A voice from the blackness says, "About ten minutes, man. Someone hit you funny."
There's our friendly boy, holding O'Reily. Guess he didn't trust anyone else to do the job; the Irish bloke doesn't look too happy about what's going on. Guess it's all that family honor those Micks always bitch about.
About ten minutes. I kick the Slayer, poke her with a toe. She doesn't move. She's lying on her front, legs twisted beneath her, and bruised everywhere I can see skin. Looks like she put up a hell of a fight... but there's only so much one human - even two, counting O'Reily - against an army. Blood is pooled around her darkened face, though not enough, it looks like, to be sure she's out for good. "Is she dead?"
Adebisi chuckles, deep in his throat, and leans forward, over O'Reily's shoulder, so I can see his face. He shrugs, eyes wide. I grin at him. Wanker I want to stake or not, here is a man who enjoys his work. He looks me up and down, for signs of anger or fury or whatever the hell a crazy, motherfucker looks for. "I dunno. Maybe."
He's still one dead motherfucker, when I get the chance, but for now, we've settled the terms of engagement.
I ask, more to myself than either of them, "If you're here, who's in the bedroom?"
I've got a thoughtful face, pointing to the door. Ryan tries to pull away, face drawn into a rage, but Adebisi's strength holds. He says with a smile, "Bastards."
Bastards are in the bedroom - whichever ones survived Faith, anyway. A probably dead Slayer is on the floor. The only guy that seems to have a sense of any sanity is currently losing oxygen fast, in the arms of a guy who fucks with tigers.
"Are you gonna kill him?"
I mean O'Reily. It's obvious that anyone his boys, or whoever else, has in the bedroom is dead and gone.
Adebisi's grin widens. "I haven't decided yet."
I nod, then pat my jacket for my smokes. Adebisi juts his chin out at O'Reily's coffee table- there they are. I slide one out of the package, and feel a lot better. I put it between my lips, then get on my knees to look under the table for my lighter.
A scream comes from the bedroom, and then a gurgle. Ryan closes his eyes, and I see his fists tighten, face at once grieving and crazy with anger. Ahhh. I get it. It's not only Adebisi's boys in the bedroom.
It's Cyril, too.
I look from Ryan's tight-lipped, closed expression, to Adebisi's barely contained excitement, and light up.
From the bedroom, I hear howling, and a voice yelling something like 'sweetpea'. I don't recognize it, but it sounds like someone older. All in all, I don't like the scenery much anymore, but I don't know what I can do about it. Around the filter, I mutter, "So, I'm hostage too, now?"
"No. You can go when you want." He lets Ryan go, and comes around the couch to face me. "I don't need you no more."
"What are you gonna do with him?"
I've only got a passing concern, but I kind of liked the guy; he had something about him that was nasty enough to be fun, but not as crazy-assed as most of these new arrivals. People who think they can change the world, people who think they should even try. People who think that swallowing the world is a good idea--
I'm not down with it, personally.
Adebisi pats O'Reily's head, and shrugs. "I might need him yet."
I shrug back; that's as good as telling me I can't do anything about it, so why waste my breath trying to convince him otherwise? "Fair enough, mate. Look, I know shit's going on here that I'm not really involved in, so if you don't mind..."
Adebisi nods back, a dismissal, and I kneel down, pretending to tie up my boot. O'Reily mutters to me, "This ain't over."
No, I don't suppose it is, Irishman. Your brother's back there, with God knows who, and you seem to be at the mercy of some very, very nasty bone collectors. I'm sure we'll get things sorted, but until then, you're on your own. This is nasty shit, and I might even be inclined to do something about it if I could make it my advantage, but I can't. Still and all, I go away with my hide intact, knowing that Adebisi doesn't want it.
Yet.
Before I leave, I say, "What are they doing to him back there? I don't hear anything."
Adebisi's eyes take on that look again. "Don't know, brotha. Not my department."
"Anyone I know?"
"The Nazi? I doubt it. You don't need to meet him, neither." He draws his finger across his throat, and raises an eyebrow. "Not much point, you know."
I hear another scream from the bedroom, and then I hear Cyril's voice, complaining of being hungry, and I nod to myself. Wonder how O'Reily's going to handle being related to one of the undead?
I pat O'Reily on the knee, and he moves to hit me. I block him easily, and restrain myself before I hit back. He's got a quickly formed black eye, and his cheekbone looks canted compared to the rest of his face. Looks like someone did some work on him. I say, "Cheer up, mate. Your brother's not gonna have any more nightmares, at least. The demon will take care of that."
He doesn't answer as I slam the door behind me.