STAKE AND CHIPS Stranger fiends hide here in human guise
Than reside in the valleys of Hell.
But goodness, kindness and love arise
In the heart of the poor beast, as well.- The Book of Counted Sorrows (Dean Koontz)
Prologue: Sunday 17th December
If you thought being dead meant you didn't feel pain, I'd suggest you think again. For Spike, his time back in England was turning out to be a fiasco. He'd crossed the Atlantic hoping to find someone who could fix whatever was wrong with his head, but things weren't going well. He ached, and he was thirstier than he'd ever been in his life. If the Slayer turned up he'd probably throw himself at the pointy end of Mr Pointy...
Leaning nonchalantly against the wall, he tried not to stare at the meals walking around in front of him. He shouldn't hang around in public places, it hurt him too much, but being shunned by his old friends meant he didn't have many entertainment options. He watched as they withdrew money from the Barclays cashpoints, or stared at the menu in the window of Burger King. They hurried around with their carrier bags full of Christmas presents, coats buttoned up tight against the cold.
As far as he could see, Spike had one chance left to get the implant removed. The implant was something he found inexplicable. How could anyone hope to rehabilitate vampires? Most of them didn't have two brain cells to rub together. Most of them seemed to like leaping out in front of Vampire Slayers. And even with the implant vampires were evil. The only real way to rehabilitate vampires would be to get gypsies to curse them all and give them their souls back! Quite why no-one had thought of that was beyond him, but he WAS smarter than the average vampire.
Travelling to England, Spike had hoped to procure the services of the only vampire doctor he knew of. He knew more about the inner workings of vampires than anyone else, with the possible exception of the Initiative. Clark was a strange man, but he was the best. The only trouble was that he could afford to charge extortionate prices for his work. Spike didn't have a lot of cash coming in. In the old days he would have robbed people, but being unable to attack people put a dampener on that idea. The only thing left had been for him to get a job.
Spike had worked it all out. It was winter, so generally it was dark in the mornings. And it was definitely dark in the evenings. So he could travel to and from his place of work without needing to cover up too much. England in the winter had a distinct lack of direct sunlight, but it was best to be sure! All he needed to do was work for a month or so and he'd have over £500. That had to be enough to have SOMETHING done to his head. Not much, but it'd be a start.
Monday 18th December
Time passed. Soon the morning came, and Spike stumbled out of his room. He was squatting in a block of council flats. They were right in the town centre, or as in the town centre as a block of flats could be. Bounding down the dirty concrete stairs, he opened the main doors and stepped out into the wind that constantly swept through the narrow space between buildings. He tugged at his coat, trying to protect himself from the cold. With his long, dark coat over his uniform he felt slightly more in control, but it was all so demoralising! Vampires weren't supposed to work! He tried to be positive.
"It'll all be over soon," he muttered.
Dashing across the road, he stepped into the darkness of Victoria Plaza. Last time he'd been in Southend it'd been called Victoria Circus. He remembered when the arcades had been there, before it had been replaced by the unsightly 1970s shopping centre. The tunnel-like concrete structure acted as a wind tunnel; rubbish tumbled along far faster than he was walking. Reaching the central space, where a few benches stood (which were far too exposed to sit on), he climbed the stairs onto the next level.
He scowled at the first few people he met, then smiled and frowned at alternate people, carrying out a psychological experiment of some sort. Not far from the stairs was another "tunnel" leading to the outside. Trying to appear inconspicuous, he went into the butcher's shop and bought some blood. It was the only way he'd managed to get blood. The last thing he wanted was for the Watchers' Council to find out he was in England. For all he knew Giles had told them, but he doubted it. Giles didn't really get on with the Watchers' Council. And so, unknown to the butchers, they provided a rare but invaluable service to a very thirsty vampire.
V-V-V-V If you've ever pictured the ideal job for a vampire, you probably didn't come up with sales assistant in WHSmith. But that was where Spike was working. He spent all day selling books and toys upstairs. There were no windows upstairs. He would have been the first to admit he wasn't the best sales assistant in the world, but when people complained he could give them a stare so evil that they stopped making a fuss. It was always useful to have someone like that around. Besides, it can't really be said that his smile put people at ease.
The highlight of his day was when it finished. By then it was properly dark. The sun had set before 4pm, so by 6 it was time to go out and have some fun. There was a girl he worked with who was always ready to go out for a drink. And it just so happened that there was a pub on London Road that he had to walk past to get home. All in all, things couldn't be much more convenient.
The girl, whose name was Emma, had long dark hair. She reminded him of Dru, although she was a lot happier and a lot less creepy. You didn't seem to have to do much to please her, which made a refreshing change from the mistress who demanded presents every five minutes.
They walked into the pub, and the hubbub carried on regardless. The days for big entrances were past, now was the time to be neither seen nor heard.
"Bloody Mary and a half of cider for the little lady," said Spike.
Digging in his pocket for some change he found a £10 note. Trying to act like there were plenty more where that came from, he slapped it down on the bar. Then he took the drinks over to a quiet corner.
"Emma," he started, "I'm gonna have to leave soon."
She looked upset, "But why?"
"My contract finishes on Saturday, I have to go back..."
"You don't have to go anywhere, Spike," she whispered.
Spike felt chills down his spine. There were some human emotions that you never got rid of. There were so many things that he liked about Emma. Of course, if he'd been able to he would have bitten her and they could have been together. But that couldn't happen now. Not unless he managed to get the implant removed. He supposed that he could always come back for her.
"Emma, if things work out I'll come back for you," he promised.
"You'd do that?"
"You're one fine looking girl."
She tried to look upset, "So you love me for my looks?"
"Blimey! No-one said anything about love!"
Spike grinned. Gingerly he sipped his drink, wishing it was real blood mixed in with the vodka.
"Tell me what you like about me," she said.
"For starters, you're very warm. That's a refreshing change. And secondly... your neck is just beautiful. Work of art."
Emma never knew how to take some of Spike's comments, but he obviously meant it as a really great compliment.
"You're always so cold, Spike," she said, covering his hand up with her own.
Spike withdrew his hand quickly. He hadn't really had to deal with human/vampire relationships before. Okay, so he'd nearly married Buffy, but that had been a horrible mistake.
"Do you want to know what I like about you?" she asked.
"Yeah, okay."
"Your hair."
Tuesday 19th December
The next day Spike turned up for work as usual, waving to Emma as he strolled through the front doors and up the stairs to the book department. Perhaps he shouldn't encourage her, she really seemed to think they had a future together. But he liked to think a future was possible. Suddenly he began to imagine the warm taste of her blood in his mouth, her struggling fading away as he gave her a new start. She wouldn't have to work in a shop any more, they could go to America and settle down somewhere that had lots of top quality meals walking around. He could dream, after all.
He strode to the back of the shop, walking through the aisles of books. Past cookery, gardening, and childrens books, past the art materials, and into the area with the lift and the door to upstairs. Pressing the buttons in the right order he started to climb the staff staircase. Once upstairs he stowed his coat in a locker and smoothed down his hair.
Back downstairs he signed in. It was for fire regulations or something, so they knew who was in the building. Then he was ready for another day. He timed it so that he arrived on the shop floor at 9am exactly. Perfect.
Manning the main counter he diligently ignored the ringing telephone for as long as he could. Occasionally someone else dashed up and answered it, giving him a look that plainly said he should be answering the phone, but when he stared back they soon gave in. Being inherently evil has its uses.
It was after 10am, when it started getting busier, that a problem arose. A man stepped up to the desk. He was dressed in a rather smart suit, seemingly from one of the many offices nearby. It was when he looked up that Spike knew he'd seen him somewhere before. The man obviously knew Spike from somewhere too, but he couldn't quite remember where. He looked at Spike's name badge. It said William.
Quickly Spike served him, stuffing the book into a carrier bag as quickly as he could. It was a book by Laurell K. Hamilton about some Vampire Slayer called Anita Blake. Spike had decided that they trivialised matters, judging from the pictures on the covers. It looked like she was the Lara Croft of the slaying community. He'd decided to read one when he had the chance. But he was hoping someone would make the books into a film or something so he wouldn't have to bother. He could wait.
Walking as quickly as he could, the man descended to the ground floor. Spike knew he had a problem. The question was, what could he do about it? He had to come to work tomorrow, that was pay day. Once he had that wage slip he was free to go. He'd be leaving the other Christmas staff to deal with the inevitable panic that would come at the end of the week, but he hardly cared about that. What were the chances that they'd catch up with him by tomorrow? They were always so slow, with their committees, and endless cups of tea, and sandwiches.
He spent the rest of the day looking nervously at everyone who walked up the stairs. When the day was over he went straight back to his flat, apologising to Emma, muttering some excuse about not feeling well. Lying on the tatty settee, hands behind his head, he wondered whether it would matter if he left now. His life was becoming far too much like that of the space monkeys; the humans who thought they had choices but were, in fact, doing exactly what society wanted them to.
Wednesday 20th December
Emma looked concerned when Spike turned up at work. He didn't really look well. He hadn't had time to get any blood - he wasn't sure if they'd be monitoring nearby butchers just in case he turned up. He didn't want to give himself up without a fight. If they tried to take him at work it would be difficult, what with the customers browsing all over the place.
The morning passed without anything untoward happening. Lunchtime came. He avoided the staff room - it was actually sunny so it wasn't a good idea. Instead he headed up to his locker. Taking out a walkman, he went into the small room where boxes of games were kept. He sat on one of the boxes, one containing the junior version of the "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" board game (they'd sold out of the adult version weeks ago), and pressed play. He closed his eyes as he listened to the familiar sounds of punk, though he couldn't relax completely.
Last time he'd been in England leaving had become vital, rather than just being an option. He was a high profile vampire, he had a rep. But now he was a shadow of his former self. If anyone wanted to capture him it wouldn't be as hard. Fighting was a bit of a problem. Biting was completely out of the question.
V-V-V-V It was quiet upstairs. He always had his lunch late, 2pm until 3pm. By then the warehouse staff had disappeared to wherever they disappeared to. The warehouse was above the shop, on the same level as the lockers. The floor above was where the staff room was, with a little kitchen. At the most there'd be one person up there, eating their sandwiches and drinking a cup of whatever was left in the vending machine. If anyone came upstairs in all likelihood it was him they were looking for.
His musical appreciation came to an end when he heard voices.
"Did you find him?"
"Nah, only a girl upstairs, said she hasn't seen him."
Spike slid the headphones down round his neck and stood up. Beyond the level of the door the room continued back a little further, leaving plenty of room for a vampire to hide. It used to be another locker room; crouching down behind some boxes, he glanced at the mirror on the wall. He could see the boxes although he was in the way. Things like that could really mess with your mind.
One of the men opened the door. Looking in, they couldn't see anyone. They assumed the corner Spike was hiding in didn't exist.
"Nothing here," said the man.
How wrong he was.
The footsteps faded away. Spike knew they'd be back when they couldn't find him, or they'd be waiting for him to go downstairs. Quite what he should do now he didn't know. The only other way out was through reception. That meant he had to walk through the warehouse to get to the place where the goods came in. The problem was that the warehouse had windows, and it was still sunny.
Opening the door slightly, the coast was clear. Spike considered getting his stuff out of his locker. If he made it to reception he'd have to go outside, and the sun would mean certain death. Or at the very least it'd mean his clothes were ruined. Thinking about it, the clothes were quite possibly a vital part of any escape plan.
Grabbing his coat, and a balaclava and gloves, Spike stepped into the warehouse. In the direction he would have to walk, rays of sunlight pierced the gloom. He shuddered.
The sound of the lift opening brought him to his senses. Looking right, he saw a figure step out of the lift. The figure was dressed in black, and it didn't look friendly. There was the sound of a button being pressed on a walkie-talkie, a faint crackle, then an urgent whisper.
"He's here!" said the man.
V-V-V-V Part of Spike was annoyed. They always treated vampires like they were inferior. Like they were idiots, even! Did the man really think he wouldn't run if he WHISPERED to his colleagues?
Bending over so as to avoid the sunlight from the high windows, Spike started to run through the warehouse. A narrow corridor ran all the way along the left side of the room, with aisles leading off of it. Luckily there were no goods cages in the way.
He winced as a beam of light hit him, sending a wisp of smoke into the air. He flung his coat over his head, trying not to slow down. He could hear the man behind him. That man was bound to have some sort of projectile weaponry, although he seemed loath to use it at the moment.
Then a crossbow bolt flew through the air, straight through Spike's shoulder. The force flung him against the boxes stacked against the wall. He fell to the floor.
As he struggled to get up, the man caught up with him. He brandished a stake in his right hand, and tried to look scary.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" shouted Spike.
For a moment the man looked confused. Then he came closer.
V-V-V-V Spike tugged at the arrow rather ineffectually. He pushed himself away from the advancing stake brandisher, but things weren't looking good.
The man's two colleagues were jogging towards them. Soon there'd be more of them to deal with, and all Spike had was, well, nothing.
"Look," said Spike, "I can get 25% off of anything in the shop. Anything you want!"
The men didn't say anything. They weren't amused.
Spike decided to ramble, "Suit yourselves. I'm completely harmless, couldn't hurt a mouse. Well, maybe a mouse. Maybe not. But not a human! Oh no. Completely reformed. Something YOU lot never managed to do."
"William the bloody," said the second man. "There are going to be a LOT of people who are glad to see you get your comeuppance."
"I don't know why, I'm such a nice bloke."
"Stop talking to it, kill it!" snapped the third man.
"Look, your people should know there are some new vampire hunters on the block. The Initiative? Ring any bells?"
"We know everything we need to know about vampires. You stick the pointy end of the stick into their unbeating hearts!" shouted man number three.
"Poof, instant cremation!" said the other talkative vampire hunter.
The man who'd fired a crossbow bolt into Spike just stood there, looking mean.
"Well if you boys get home and daddy's not pleased when he hears I knew about the spooky fellows operating out of Sunnydale, don't blame me."
The men seemed to be considering taking him back with them. The one weakness of the Watchers' Council was that they were a hierarchy. One didn't like to act unless one had checked it out with the higher echelons. And now these three chaps were in a quandary about whether the vampire might actually have some information.
"How do we know you have information?" asked the quiet one.
"You could try trusting me?"
A crossbow pointed at his heart indicated that that wasn't the right answer.
"Okay!" said Spike. "Bring me a girl, I'll prove that I can't eat it. I want to, believe me, but I can't."
The men conferred.
"Right, we'll get a girl. But if you manage to bite her you're dead, understand?"
"Oh, yeah," said Spike.
V-V-V-V Cowering in the shadows of the warehouse, Spike tried tugging at the arrow again. It wasn't coming out. The barbs meant it would make a big hole if it DID come out. It would have to be snapped in half or something. The two men kept an eye on him. They weren't going to make any silly mistakes.
After a while they heard voices. One of the men had obviously managed to find some suitable vampire lunch. He pushed the girl along, and she fell to the floor next to Spike. On her knees, she looked furious, and scared, all at the same time. Looking up to see Spike with an arrow in his shoulder, Emma nearly screamed.
"Eat her then," said the third man, eager to see him try so that they could kill him.
Spike took Emma by the shoulders, trying to manoeuvre her so that she didn't touch the arrow shaft embedded in his body. Carefully he put his lips close to her neck, and brushed against her warm skin.
"Sorry, love," he whispered.
Then he transformed into a fully-fledged vampire, and his fangs brushed her delicate neck. The neck he had admired just a few days ago was in easy reach! But he couldn't do it! If he could, she could be with him forever, it he managed to fight the other three and escape with her. But he couldn't do it.
He discovered that the implant's pain was even worse when he was expecting it. He fell backwards, grunting and clutching his head. Stabbing pain shot through his body. The arrow snapped as he fell on it, ripping his skin.
V-V-V-V Emma hardly knew what to think. Spike had turned into this ugly brute, but he was an ugly brute that was obviously in extreme pain! The only people in the room that she knew were definitely bad were the three men who'd orchestrated her kidnapping. If anyone was going to be on the end of her attack it was them.
While they were off balance, marvelling at the vampire in pain, she grabbed a games compendium (a rather nice one which came in a tin) that was on a nearby shelf and hit the nearest man on the head.
"Ow!" he said.
He rubbed his head, annoyed but seemingly escaping serious injury. That was all the time Spike needed. He kicked the dented headed man's legs from under him. The man fell, clumsily trying to keep himself from landing strangely whilst stopping the weapon in his hand from going off. Spike grabbed the crossbow from his hand and pointed it at the three men.
"Emma," he said, "quick."
She jumped over to his side, her instant trust giving him a strange sense of satisfaction. Shaking his head he turned back into the human looking Spike, in an attempt to look less conspicuous. Then he and Emma made their way to reception, carefully backing down the aisle. The three men were scowling.
Once in reception they scrambled past cages and eventually made it outside. The goods lift took them to the ground, where Spike tried to cover himself up. It was beginning to get dark, so solar protection wasn't vital, but it was probably best if no-one saw the crossbow bolt hole.
V-V-V-V Spike's adventures had been a complete waste of time. Now that the Watchers were after him he couldn't stay in Southend any longer. He'd have to travel back to London and fly back to America empty handed. The indignity of it all...
Emma took his arm. Together they walked to the side entrance of Smiths.
"I have to go back," she said.
"Yeah," said Spike.
"But not yet," she said.
Spike looked at her, in wonderment.
"Those men might still be there, after all."
Arm in arm, they walked down the high street, towards the sea. Sitting on a park bench, they gazed out over the Thames Estuary. The pier stretched far out into the water. Kent was on the horizon. Large container carrying ships sailed past. The illuminations along the seafront seemed romantic rather than garish.
V-V-V-V The couple couldn't hope to survive as a couple unless some serious questions were asked and, in turn, answered. Spike knew that, and to be honest he didn't really care. He wouldn't mind Emma becoming his mistress for a while, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if they had to break up. But Emma cared more, and she'd found recent events a lot more confusing.
"Spike, what are you?" she asked.
"Oh, love," said Spike, trying to sound like he was an average guy, "Nothing you need worry your pretty little head about."
"Don't you start patronising me, you... whatever you are."
Spike took his arm from Emma's shoulders and considered his next words very carefully. He bent closer to her so that his words wouldn't be overheard.
"I don't..." he trailed off, lost for words.
"You're not human, are you?" she asked nervously. She knew what the answer to her question was going to be, and part of her didn't believe it could be true. She'd never believed things like him really existed. She didn't want to believe it if it meant things had to change.
"No," said Spike.
"Why are you here?" she asked, thinking that as she'd gone so far it wouldn't hurt to dig a little deeper.
"I had to come, to get money. I need an operation."
Looking gaunt and upset, Spike scowled.
"So you came here to work?"
"Yeah. Under an assumed name. Someone I, erm, bit," he said, trailing off and hoping she wouldn't hear the last part of the sentence.
V-V-V-V They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while.
"I should go," said Spike.
As he got up to leave, Emma grabbed his arm.
"Don't leave, not yet! Stay, just for a little while longer."
Slowly Spike sat back down.
"You won't bite me, will you?" asked Emma.
"I can't bite anyone!" snapped Spike.
"And therein lies the problem," nodded Emma, beginning to understand. "That pain thing, the inability to bite people, that's what the operation's for."
"More than just a pretty face, aincha."
"Now those men are after you, are you going to go back to America?"
"Yeah, probably. I'm a failure. And I used to BE someone round here."
"I can't help you with the biting thing, I don't really want you to bite people. But I don't want you to die, Spike! I want to help you get back home," pleaded Emma.
"No."
Spike knew that the best way to get her to stay out of the way was to explain what a horrible chap he really was.
"I only came here so that I could bite people again. If I get out of England in one piece I'll find a way to get my head fixed," he said.
"Spike, hasn't this changed you at all? There must have been other ways you could get money other than working. And why would you be so nice to me if you were inherently evil?"
"I'm evil. I am. I went back to Sunnydale to be evil, and they captured me and put something in my head that, well. I escaped, ended up in the college, tried to bite Willow Rosenberg, but I couldn't! She was terribly nice about it though. A little too nice. But that's not the point. I still want to bite people. Now I've met you I want it more than ever, then we can be together!"
All the evil that he'd managed to convey was somewhat undone by the rather complementary last few words. He realised this a little too late. Emma didn't appear to be shocked and disgusted by what he'd told her.
"Do you have to, erm, eat humans?" she asked.
"It's like the difference between vegetarians and not. Maybe I could survive, but I'd kill for a decent sausage roll," replied Spike.
V-V-V-V Emma had listened with trepidation as she learned that Spike definitely wasn't the person she'd thought he was. He wasn't even a person! But she still thought he was the best bloke she'd met in ages, and she didn't want him to end up on the wrong end, or indeed any end, of a piece of vampire slaying lumber.
"We're going to have to split up then. You'll have to leave Southend," said Emma.
"Yeah. I'll go back to London. Don't fancy walking all that way though."
"If you walk north to Rochford then you could catch the train there. They might not be expecting that, right?"
"Maybe," agreed Spike.
"I'll go back to work, and if anyone asks I won't know what's happened to you," said Emma.
"Yeah. Thanks, babe."
It was still dangerous, the Watchers would be watching, but perhaps they wouldn't be thorough enough to watch the station at Rochford. It was Christmas, after all. They'd probably have people waiting at the London stations, but he'd cross that bridge (platform?) when he came to it.
Thursday 21st December
Spike had walked as far as he could before collapsing in a barn. He walked past shops, past houses, past cemeteries, past industrial estates, and finally he came to fields. Normally he wouldn't feel he couldn't go on, but he was so, so thirsty. It had been too long since he'd drunk human blood, and he hadn't had blood of any description for two days. Maybe in Sunnydale that wouldn't have mattered so much, but in the cold and damp of the Essex fields he was too cold to move. It was blood that kept his physiology working properly, and heat helped. It wasn't just the pesky Watchers that meant so many vampires moved across the Atlantic. They were fooling themselves if they thought they were that important!
The train station in Rochford wasn't many miles from Southend. He'd walked out into the darkness of the few remaining fields between Rochford and Southend; the farmland gradually being encroached upon for housing estates and industrial estates. Sutton was the perfect place to hide. There was nothing there apart from a few lonely houses and a church. The best thing about Sutton was the dilapidated barn that he'd curled up in overnight.
V-V-V-V It was getting colder. He stayed in the barn during the day. As he lay in the barn the skies cleared, and the sun actually managed to reach the ground. As such it would have been dangerous for him to go outside even if he'd wanted to. But the lack of cloud cover meant that the heat escaped as night fell, and temperatures dropped to below zero. Spike's damp clothes started to freeze. He knew that if he didn't move he'd be frozen solid. If anyone came he'd be defenceless. And if for some reason the sunlight got to him while he was incapable of movement he'd end up fried rather than frozen.
Once the sun had set he struggled to his feet. His clothes crackled as the ice that covered them broke. Trying to prevent himself from freezing up completely he put on his gloves. He'd tried to warm them up by leaving them in the sun. When you consider that gloves take a while to warm up on humans, and vampires have very little body heat, gloves would never warm up without some help. The gloves were very thick; it was hard to move his fingers. But the warmth was much needed. Then he drew his coat's hood up over his head before stepping outside.
The sky was clear, the stars shone overhead. Across the fields to the north he could see Rochford hospital's boiler house. The red aircraft warning light that sat on top of the chimney increased its visibility. He didn't have to go as far as the hospital, but it wasn't far from the station. His journey could be over in a few hours. If he could get to the station, then to London, he'd be in with a chance of survival.
V-V-V-V Crossing the road, he walked along the path on the right hand side. Occasionally he was bathed in the headlights of the oncoming cars. He hadn't walked far when a car pulled up on the other side of the road. It was an expensive looking car, a BMW or equivalent, and it was going the same way as him, towards Rochford. The electric window wound down.
"Want a lift?" asked the woman who was driving.
Spike crossed the road again. The door on the passenger side swung open, and he got in. The car was warm, and comfortable.
"Cheers," he said.
"Seatbelt," said the woman.
He pulled the seatbelt to get some slack and bent towards the woman to clip himself in. The woman grimaced.
"You're not human," she said, sounding annoyed.
Spike pulled down his hood.
"Spike!" she said.
"Wha...?" said Spike.
She reached down into the door compartment and took something out of it. Her movement was fluid and lightning fast. Spike tried to undo his seatbelt, but the thick gloves left him clumsy, and before he could escape she'd stabbed him with something. Annoyed, Spike turned to look at the woman. Then everything went black...
V-V-V-V As Emma finished work there was someone waiting for her. Three someones, in fact. As soon as she stepped out of the main doors one of them took her arm.
"We'd like a word," said the one holding her arm.
"Okay," she said.
V-V-V-V As Spike recovered from the drug he realised he was chained to a wall. He tugged the chain. It wasn't going anywhere.
V-V-V-V The men were polite, in a businesslike sort of way. She didn't think they'd be so polite if she tried to escape, but she would go along with them for the moment. The more time they wasted with her the less time they'd be spending looking for Spike. They took her to their car. Sitting next to one of them in the back, she looked out of the window as they drove away from Southend.
They drove down the main road, the A127, past the abandoned half gutted car that had been there for what seemed like years. Then they turned off, and began heading out into the countryside. She'd been that way before, she knew roughly where they were going. As she looked at the fields, and the skeletal trees looming in the semi-darkness, it crossed her mind that it would be easier to dispose of a body out here than it would have been in the town centre.
After about twenty-five minutes the car arrived at its destination. Across a narrow bridge, over a small river, stood an old mill. It was an antiques centre now; she'd been there before. The pub was called the "Barge Inn", which she always found strangely amusing. But not this time. This time nothing seemed as friendly as it had in the light of day. Walking past the collection of garden ornaments, the griffins and other assorted mythical beasts looked terrifying. It reminded Emma of the "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe", though those animals had been good ones, and these oozed menace.
The antiques centre was shut now, but one of the men had a key. Switching on a light, they started to ascend the metal stairs. The stairs went all the way up to the top of the building, some five floors or so. Two of the men walked behind her, one in front. The precautions seemed unnecessary, seeing as Battlesbridge was in the middle of nowhere. They'd soon catch up with her if she tried to run.
On the top floor there was a café. Another man was waiting there. Instead of looking threatening he looked tired. When he saw her enter the room he stood up.
"Please, sit down," he said.
Emma walked to a chair opposite him at the formica table, and sat down.
"Would you like some tea?" asked the man. "Or some coffee?"
"Tea," said Emma. "No sugar. Thanks."
The man gestured to one of the other men to go and make the tea, then he looked Emma in the eye.
"I expect you know why we brought you here," he said.
V-V-V-V The more Spike tugged the chain, the more he came to the conclusion that it wasn't helping. His hands were free, but the only way he'd be able to escape would be if he chopped off his shackled legs and pulled his torso along with his arms. Which he didn't really want to have to do.
V-V-V-V "Emma," said the elderly man, "We need to find Spike."
"Why?" said Emma.
"You know what he is, and what he is is evil. Inherently evil."
The man sighed, as if he despaired. It was as if he was wondering what use fighting against evil was if those he was fighting for didn't want him to fight.
"He can't hurt anyone anymore. Why can't you let him go back to Sunnydale?" asked Emma.
"So it's true then?" said the man, suddenly showing enthusiasm.
"What?"
"Spike's implant. I have to admit that I thought it was all a lie."
"No," said Emma, wondering if she should be talking about it.
"His implant prevents him from hurting people?"
"Yes," she said.
"Emma, if we could just see Spike, see that what you're saying is true, we would let him go. But we have no proof. And you have to admit that with your attachment to Spike you're not exactly unbiased. We only have your word for all this, and even though I'd love to believe you, I can't."
"No," said Emma. She paused. "Can I go?"
"We can't keep you here. But think about Spike. He'll do anything to get rid of that implant. He's using you, whatever he made you think. He wants to kill again. Deep down, he's nothing but evil. He's killed so many during his existence - whatever he's told you, he wouldn't have changed his lifestyle if he'd had an alternative. And if he manages to get rid of the implant, one of the first people he's going to try and turn is you. He likes you, and when a human's involved with a vampire the result is usually death."
V-V-V-V Sitting on the floor of the apartment, Spike wished it was carpeted. The bare concrete was serviceable, but cold. Very cold. He was basically very, very, very cold, and there was nothing he could do to get warm. And it seemed that the hunger would have killed him, if he weren't already dead.
Friday 22nd December
Emma woke up, relieved to find herself in her own bed. Her dreams hadn't been pleasant. She'd unconsciously thought through so many permutations, so many possibilities, and none of them had ended very happily. She had thought of one thing that might work, but it was a long shot. She'd have to do it quickly, before she went to work. Maybe she'd have a reply by the time she got home. Maybe she'd get some help. And after today she'd have a long weekend to sort things out. Four days off.
It was cold in her bedroom, so she dragged her quilt over to the chair and tried to stay inside it. Switching on her computer she waited as it booted up. She opened up her internet browser, and typed the URL of a search engine. After clicking connect, she waited. The site appeared.
"UC-Sunnydale," she whispered to herself as she typed.
To her delight, it came up with the right result. At the top of the page was a link to the college's e-mail directory. She remembered all the things Spike had told her with great clarity. It all seemed so unreal. If she was right, she had one link to Spike's past in America. Willow Rosenberg.
V-V-V-V Spike opened his eyes, and shuddered inwardly when he remembered where he was. Was it better to be chained to this woman's wall than to be in the hands of the Watchers? He doubted it. This woman wasn't a nice woman. He wasn't completely sure she even counted as a woman.
"You're awake," she said, walking over to him.
"Yeah," he said, looking up at her.
"Breakfast?" she asked.
"Why not," he said.
She stepped back, and beckoned to her minions. Two vampires entered the room, dragging a rather battered looking young man between them.
"As my guest, I'll let you have the first bite," she said.
"That's ever so kind," said Spike, "but you don't have to do that."
"My breakfast isn't good enough for you?" she said, raising her left eyebrow.
"I just don't want to put you to any trouble. You can have the fresh blood. I'll have whatever you've got lying around."
She crouched down in front of Spike. Gently she ran her finger down the side of his face. He grabbed her hand, and pulled it away from his skin.
"I only want the best for you," she said.
"Really," said Spike, sarcastically.
"Bite him, for me," she said.
The two vampires dragged the man up to Spike and threw him on the floor within easy reach, next to their mistress.
"Look," he said, "I can't. I can't bite humans any more. Satisfied?"
"So it's true," said the woman.
"Yeah, Ilona, it's true.
She stood up, and walked away. Standing by the window, she lit a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, and blew out a cloud of smoke. Ilona could hardly believe that Spike had come back to her. And what's more, he was a helpless wreck.
V-V-V-V Emma's mind wasn't really on her job. She kept making stupid mistakes all day, which wasn't really hard, as it was really busy. Instead of pressing the button on the till for cheque payments she'd press the one above it, for card payments. Things like that. Her sorrowful attitude wasn't helped by the fact that Christmas made nearly everyone grumpy. Most people seemed to hate buying presents. Emma didn't find buying presents thrilling, but she liked giving them. When the person liked the gift it was fun. When they pretended it wasn't quite as much fun, admittedly. There were exceptions, the nice people who wished you happy Christmas as they walked away, but even they didn't cheer her up. She didn't know what was more depressing - the fact the person she seemed to love had had to leave, or the fact she cared so much about someone who'd died hundreds of years ago.
V-V-V-V "Let me get this straight," said Ilona. "You get bitten by Drusilla, spend a hundred and fifty years or so following her around, being her little... puppy, then she leaves you. You fall to pieces. You BEG her to come back, but she won't. She prefers a fungus demon to you. You finally pull yourself together, but then you get captured by some well organised types and they fit a chip in your head?"
"Yeah," said Spike.
Ilona paced the floor as she listened to Spike's tale of woe. She hadn't really known all that much about him. She'd known all she needed to know, which was that he'd turned her into a vampire. But now she could get revenge for her abandonment. To Spike she'd been little more than a good meal and a few months of fun, and now SHE was the one in charge. She was a successful businesswoman who was never going to age. How much better could things get?
Spike fumbled with the tiny cigarette he was smoking. There was hardly any of it left, but he didn't think Ilona was going to give him another one any time soon. He still hadn't had any blood in days. He was going blue. She didn't seem to care.
Ilona crouched down on the floor in front of Spike. He was leaning against the wall, trying to be as comfortable as he could. It was very hard to get comfortable on concrete. As if he wasn't cold enough, coldness seemed to seep from the very fabric of the building into his aching body.
"Some people would really like to get their hands on this chip, right?" she said.
"I suppose," said Spike.
"I wouldn't like the Watchers to get their hands on it. So that leaves us with a couple of options."
"Oh goody," said Spike, rolling his eyes.
"One," she said, "I kill you, destroying the only example of chipped vampire they're likely to get their pathetic little hands on."
"I don't really like that one. Any more?"
"Two, I torture you, thereby prolonging your existence as long as possible for my own enjoyment. And we make sure the Watchers don't find you."
"Yeah, right," said Spike, in a sarcastic tone of voice.
"You don't think I could do that?"
"Look, Ilona, you're a pretty little vampire with pretty little ideas, but I can't see you managing to keep a secret. You pretty little things always have to have someone to boast to."
"I could tell you, you're not going anywhere."
"We'll see about that," said Spike, trying to sound like he meant it.
"Why, what you gonna do? Bite me?" she said, slowly standing up straight. "Oh, I forgot, you already did."
She flicked her half-burnt cigarette at him. As she walked away he scrabbled on the floor to pick it up. She was almost sorry to see what he was reduced to. Almost.
V-V-V-V Giles took the printout from Willow and read it carefully.
"This came earlier today?" asked Giles.
"She sounds scared."
"Yes."
V-V-V-V The vampire guarding Spike didn't say much. He just regarded him coolly. He hadn't got the job by being talkative.
Spike was bored. And cold. Very cold. And hungry. His lack of food had left him sort of blue and gaunt looking. But boredom was the one thing which might be remedied.
"Can we have the telly on?" asked Spike.
The vampire looked at Spike. It might have been an incredulous look, but it was hard to tell with the heavily ridged vampire forehead the guy was sporting. He looked away again.
"Oh, go on. What harm can it do," said Spike.
"Television is what humans do to waste time."
"Ah, so you DO talk. I was beginning to wonder. Look, all I really want to know is what happened to Libby and Drew."
The hulk shrugged.
"Great. I finally make it back here and I don't get closure."
"If you promise to shut up I'll tell you what I know," said the hulk.
"Alright," said Spike.
"They didn't get married. There was an accident. I don't know what happened next. Ilona came..."
"And Neighbours went out of the window. Shame."
V-V-V-V Buffy wasn't happy that Giles and Willow wanted to help Spike. She paced up and down Giles' lounge.
"The way I see it, it wouldn't be a bad thing if the Watchers caught up with Spike," said Buffy.
"Ordinarily, I might agree," said Giles.
"But..." prompted Buffy.
"But, there's more than just a vampire at stake here," said Giles.
"Vampire. At stake," said Xander.
Hurriedly, Giles continued, "The Watchers know about the chip. And since the Initiative aren't going to be chipping any more vampires, they need to get their hands on Spike if they want to get their hands on one of the chips."
"And that's a bad thing?" asked Buffy.
"It may well be a bad thing, yes. Something's not quite right about all this. They're being unusually heavy handed. I think that until Spike is found, Emma's life could be in danger."
"Nasty Watchers," said Willow.
Saturday 23rd December
Emma pulled the cover up over her head. It was freezing outside, and it didn't seem much warmer in the house! She stayed under the duvet as long as she could before needing some fresh air. Duvets never seemed to let much air through their weave. That was probably why they were warm - they kept the air in. But then jumpers were supposed to be warm because the air stayed in the gaps between the wool. It was amazing what trivial things one could still find the time to consider when one thought one's life was in danger.
Although she was comfortable, part of her brain was telling her she ought to get out of the house. The evil Watchers would easily find her if she stayed put. But then if Willow was going to send someone to help, she shouldn't move from the house. She'd had an e-mail saying that someone called Giles would try and sort something out, but it hadn't contained any specifics. She disappeared under the cover again. Somehow it seemed a lot safer.
V-V-V-V It was still early when the Scooby Gang was up and about, the evil monsters having (mainly) dispersed with the rising of the sun. Buffy had just turned up because she had to be there anyway to talk about other things. Willow really wanted to know what Giles had done to help Emma. And Xander had nothing better to do. Anya didn't either. She was happily snuggling Xander's arm.
"It's all sorted out," said Giles.
"It is?" replied Buffy.
"I hope so. Not all of the Watchers are evil predators with little real concept of right and wrong." He paused for a moment before continuing, under his breath, "At least, they weren't."
"So... so you found someone?" squeaked Willow excitedly.
Giles nodded. "An old friend. And before you ask, Xander, not an old friend who used to practice black magic with me."
Xander tried to act like he'd never make such terrible accusations. But he wasn't very convincing.
V-V-V-V Emma spent most of the day in her house. She was beginning to think the Watchers were just, well, watching her. They wanted to follow her if she left the house, but she wasn't going to lead them to Spike. She couldn't even if she wanted to. She didn't know where he was, after all!
It was almost as if she was waiting for something to happen. She didn't know what. Perhaps Spike would contact her to say he was safe, then she could tell the Watchers he was gone, and they'd leave her alone. Perhaps. Or maybe Giles would send some help. It wasn't always possible to tell what someone was really like from e-mail, but both Willow and Giles had seemed like they truly wanted to help.
V-V-V-V "Spikey, Spikey, Spikey," said Ilona. "What ARE we going to do with you?"
"Don't suppose the Force is going to work here, is it?" asked Spike. "This is not the vampire you are looking for?"
Ilona pulled another cigarette from a packet, and lit up. She thoughtfully released the smoke from her lungs. She'd always felt a little bit guilty about smoking when she'd been alive. But there was no reason not to chain smoke when you were already dead, and it gave lungs some purpose.
"You must be ravenous," said Ilona.
"Well, now that you mention it," said Spike, before pausing. "Shouldn't you be at work?"
"You're not getting rid of me today, Spikey. I took the day off so that we could have a little chat. And I thought maybe it was time for some fun."
"Monopoly? Or would you prefer strip poker?"
Ilona bent close to Spike, and pushed her still burning cigarette into his hand
. "Oh, torture," said Spike. "Still doesn't discount Monopoly."
V-V-V-V Randall looked at the message he'd just been handed. He could hardly believe it. Giles wanted help. He wanted help protecting a young woman. And there was a vampire mixed up in it too. You don't hear anything from someone for ages and then you get a message like that!
He looked up Spike on his computer. It was much as he remembered. Sired by Drusilla. That made him around 150 years old. Not the oldest vampire, but still old. Oh yes, he'd heard of Spike, and his penchant for torturing people with railway spikes. That was one thing that was written in big red letters in the Watchers' annals! But strangely, the message said that Spike was turning against his own kind, and wasn't to be harmed.
This was obviously complicated. He had to get to Emma and talk about all this. He had to find out more. He was intrigued.
V-V-V-V Spike was covered in little burns. Ilona had stabbed out each of the cigarettes she'd smoked on his torso. It was annoying, to say the least.
"You know," said Ilona, "I'd kill for some nice warm blood. How about you?"
Spike tried to look anything other than pathetic and pained. He tried for a sort of bored, unconcerned, tough sort of look. He had a horrible feeling it didn't come out like he wanted it to. Ilona started to laugh quietly.
"I conducted these experiments into how long vampires could go without blood," said Ilona. "I thought it'd be useful in my line of work."
"And what exactly IS your line of work?" asked Spike?
"Actually, I run the regional blood service. I travel up to headquarters in Brentwood every now and again, keeping things running smoothly. It seemed a shame to waste all that blood on keeping humans alive."
Spike snorted.
"Anyway, you'd be surprised how soon vampires start getting desperate. Some of them even rush out into the sunlight to try and grab some lunch."
She paused, and stubbed out another cigarette. Spike tried not to wince. Taking another cigarette out of the packet, she lit it, then reached over to stroke Spike's bare ribs. She pressed extra hard when she got to a burn.
"I'd say you'd gone without food for, oh, about five days. Before long you'll need something to eat. You know that, I know that. I'm just not sure I want to give you anything."
V-V-V-V It was night. Randall paused outside Emma's door, wondering what he should say when she opened it. Slowly he lifted the door knocker and rapped twice. He heard a rattle as Emma put the chain on, then the door opened a crack.
"Hello?" she said.
"Giles sent me," said Randall.
Relieved that she no longer needed to be alone, she pulled the chain free and opened the door.
"Come in," she said.
"Thanks," said Randall.
V-V-V-V "I was thinking," said Ilona, "You know that Chinese water torture?"
Spike ignored her. He wondered what Emma was doing. He wondered all sorts of things to try and push Ilona and her torture out of his mind.
"You get water and drip, drip, drip it onto someone's head in the same place. It drives them mad," she said, smiling evilly.
"Uh-huh," said Spike, figuring he ought to at least pretend to be listening.
"Great idea, but wouldn't it work so much better on vampires if you used holy water?"
Spike couldn't help but wonder if he was this much of a psycho when he tortured people. Or was it worse when the torturer held some sort of a grudge against the tortured? She must be the boss from hell. Well, being a vampire, and therefore a demon, she did have a head start in that area.
V-V-V-V "So Spike does have a chip in his head that means he can't hurt living things?" asked Randall incredulously.
"Yes. I don't pretend to understand everything. I didn't even know what he was until just before he had to leave. But I liked him. I can't believe that I'd like someone that was really evil. Am I making any sense?" said Emma.
"Yeah," said Randall, sipping his coffee. "The problem is, I don't think the Watchers are going to leave you alone until we get Spike back to America."
"No, you're probably right."
"So first of all, we have to find Spike."
"Yes."
Randall leaned forward in his chair, "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"
"Actually, yes. Sort of. I sent him in the direction of Rochford. There's a train station there that I thought might be less watched. But I don't know if he got there."
Randall felt strangely smug. He was pretty sure he knew where Spike had to be.
"Do you have any ideas?" asked Emma.
"Yeah." He paused. "Can I use your phone?"
"It' s in the hall."
V-V-V-V She strained to hear what he was saying. For some reason he was being surreptitious. But she didn't really care anymore. She had no-one to trust, so she might as well trust this man. She'd reached a point of total not trustingness. It was probably inevitable she'd trust the first person she came across.
He came back into the lounge. "I don't think we should go tonight," he said.
"Why?" asked Emma.
"It's not the right time."
"Okay. I suppose you know best. Are you staying here?"
"If that's alright."
"I'll get a blanket." She gestured towards the settee he was sitting on, "The settee pulls out into a bed."
"Cosy."
V-V-V-V "We have one more night together," said Ilona. "Let's make it count, eh?"
Sunday 24th December
Emma's dreams weren't good dreams. She dreamt that the man she'd invited into her home was actually a vampire. It wasn't pleasant. The fear grew so strong that she actually woke up, jolted into the waking world by her evil unconscious fantasies. That was when she noticed something on the floor. It was a handkerchief. It wasn't one of hers. And it had blood on it. It had to be Randall's.
Her heart beating faster, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and looked into the mirror on her dressing table. She checked her neck. There were no bite marks. She was relieved. Dressing quickly, eager to shake the feeling of unease, she shrugged on a soft jumper and jeans. She started to feel better.
Heading downstairs, she discovered Randall had made her some tea. Maybe she'd misjudged him. It was before 9am, and still pretty dark outside, but he suggested they make a fairly early start.
"Are you going to accompany me?" he asked.
"Can I? I mean, if it's okay," said Emma.
"Better get a coat. It's cold."
"Right."
V-V-V-V Faced by another day of torture at the hands of Ilona, Spike tried repeatedly bashing the back of his head against the wall. Maybe the chip would come loose or something. Maybe it would get damaged. Maybe it would short circuit, kill him and end his miserable existence. It was definitely something to do, and it was definitely more entertaining than listening to Ilona's rants about world domination.
V-V-V-V Randall drove past Cuckoo Corner, the roundabout jam-packed with trees and various plants (but no cuckoos). Then past the airport, and the old Vulcan bomber. Further on they passed the railway station, which was where Spike had been supposed to go in the original plan. By then they were near where their destination. Turning right off of the main road, Randall drove into the new housing estate, built on the site of the now defunct Rochford hospital. He pulled up outside the boiler house. The renovation wasn't over; it was swathed in scaffolding. They were converting it into thirty-seven loft flats and houses. Whatever one of those was.
They got out of the car, and Randall went over to the main doors. He pushed them, and to Emma's surprise they swung open. Walking into the darkness, she felt nervous once again. What were they doing here? Who lived here? Was Spike here? How would Randall know if Spike WAS here? There were so many questions, questions she hadn't even started to think about until faced by the building's dark interior. There's something about darkness that brings fear to the forefront.
Climbing the stairs, they passed nothing but half-finished rooms. Further up they climbed, higher and higher, until they came to the top floor. They could go no further. Randall seemed to know where he was going. He knocked on the closed door, which happened to be the only closed door Emma had seen in the boiler house. Someone opened it.
V-V-V-V "Who is it?" asked Ilona.
"Randall."
"Oh, great."
V-V-V-V Ilona didn't appear to be happy about Randall's visit. Whoever Randall was, he must be someone important to make her look that worried. Spike had turned Ilona as he'd thought she might be useful. He hadn't realised she'd turn into a psycho as soon as her soul left her. That was the problem with demons infesting human bodies. Spike didn't want many of the things that the extreme vampires wanted. He didn't want the bright world full of humans to end. He just wanted to beat things up and get some respect. He wanted company. He wanted to have a good time. Ilona had wanted to take over the world. She hadn't been a fun person to be around. And then Drusilla leaving him had messed up the company thing, and the chip had messed up the beating up thing. Sort of.
Trying to drag himself from his ever-deepening reverie, Spike watched as Ilona's visitor, who he supposed was Randall, entered the room. If Randall was allowed to see him he must be involved in Ilona's little game. Either that or he was so clueless that it didn't matter if he knew Ilona was chaining people to her walls.
"Ilona," said Randall, "Why didn't you TELL me he was here?"
"I didn't want you and your pals to come and take my little Spikey away from me. I didn't want a chip like his in MY head."
"I'd never let the Watchers take him. I don't work for the Watchers anymore. You know that. I'm here because the Dark Ones want him destroyed. We can't chance the Watchers getting their hands on the chip. They might try and implant similar chips into the Dark Ones. We have no choice but to destroy that chip."
Ilona was like a little girl faced with the loss of her favourite toy.
"They would never put the chip in your lovely head, Ilona," said Randall. "They need you, they need you to supply blood in order for them to keep the Dark Ones under control."
"I suppose," said Ilona. "It's always about the Dark Ones," she sulked.
"I know you want to rule the world, Ilona, but the Dark Ones are more powerful than you or I could ever imagine."
V-V-V-V Spike moved slightly, and his chains clinked. Ilona and Randall turned to look at him.
"Pathetic, isn't he?" said Ilona. "I must have been so weak for him to be able to turn me."
"He WAS stronger. Once he was feared. It will still be an honour to kill him," replied Randall.
"Hey, I want to kill him. But first I want to have some fun. Can I have my present now?"
"Whatever you want, Ilona," said Randall.
Randall snapped his fingers. Two vampires pulled Emma into the room. Spike stopped feeling sorry for himself and began instead to be horrified at Emma's arrival. Meanwhile Emma went through several different emotions: terror (at being there), relief (at seeing Spike in one piece) and sadness (at seeing Spike chained to a wall). Ilona was glad to have a present and extra glad when she saw the looks Spike and Emma were giving each other. If they knew each other it would make it even more fun.
"They know each other?" she asked Randall.
"She's the reason I heard about Spike. That and a Watcher called Giles, who pleaded for help on Emma's behalf."
Spike mumbled something about Giles. He mumbled it rather half-heartedly, but he mumbled it all the same.
"If you're going to kill me," said Spike, "Just kill me. Leave the girl out of it."
"Ah, what noble sentiments from a creature of the night," said Randall.
Spike tried to think of a witty retort. It was hard to think. It was hard to move. It was hard to talk. In short, it was hard to do anything. The longer he went without blood the less active he became. Ilona and Randall had him (and Emma) at their mercy.
"Aren't you going to tell him all your secrets before you kill him?" asked Emma.
Spike felt a warm glow inside. That was his girl.
"There's one thing I would like to know, actually," said Spike.
"Oh, for you, anything, Spikey," said Ilona.
"Dark Ones?"
V-V-V-V Being in Sunnydale had left Spike with little idea of what was going on in England. Maybe he'd have heard things if Buffy had still been working for the Watchers. As it was, he'd come to England completely ignorant of who was who in the local vampire ranks.
"Let me see," said Ilona. "If I tell you, I'll have to kill you. Oh, I'm going to kill you anyway." She paced the floor, fiddling with the ring on one of her fingers. "To be honest, none of this is a secret, so it won't matter if I tell you."
"And it'll be fun to shatter some illusions, right?" said Randall.
"Right," grinned Ilona. "The Dark Ones are Watchers that have been turned. We all knew it had to happen sometimes, didn't we? If there's a group of people that fight vampires, some of them are bound to be stupid or careless enough to let it happen. Or perhaps they're seduced by our superiority and start to want some power for themselves. However it happened, some of the Watchers went Dark Side."
"The Watchers keep the Dark Ones under lock and key. They feed them, they can't bear to destroy the vessels that were once their friends. That's where Ilona and her connections come into things," continued Randall.
"And the Watchers want to put chips like Spike's into the heads of the Dark Ones?" asked Emma.
"I wish you wouldn't keep talking," said Ilona.
"Sorry," said Emma, sounding anything but.
"But you're right, Emma," said Randall. "If the Dark Ones can be stopped from harming humans, it may even be possible to rehabilitate them. We can't let that happen."
"Hey, I'm still evil," interrupted Spike.
"Of course you are," said Ilona. "Want a chance to prove it?"
V-V-V-V The sun rose outside, but the inside of the boiler house was still in twilight. Spike and Emma were chained next to each other. They didn't say anything, partly because Spike hardly had the energy, and partly because Ilona hadn't reacted well to their attempts at communication. The time for small talk was over, and inspiration for escape plans hadn't been forthcoming. It looked like they were in serious trouble.
Emma was beginning to regret using her initiative to ask for help. E-mailing Willow hasn't done anything except make matters worse. Okay, so she'd found Spike, but now she was chained to a wall next to him.
Spike was glad Emma was there, but he wished she wasn't. Ilona wanted him to get so hungry that he'd try to drink Emma's blood. He knew that was what she was up to. That was her experiment. He'd wanted to drink Emma's blood anyway, to make her into a vampire so that they could be together. The added incentive of becoming progressively weaker hadn't made him change his mind about biting her. Or not biting her. It was going to hurt if he tried, and Ilona was going to laugh at the incredible stabbing head pains. There was no way he was going to give her something to laugh at.
The terrible thing, in Spike's opinion, was that Emma probably would let him feed on her if it would help. She didn't want to become a vampire, but she obviously didn't want Spike to suffer. It was a dilemma and a half.
V-V-V-V After hours of Spike being semi-conscious and Emma being bored and uncomfortable, Ilona paid them a visit. She was fed up with their lack of progress.
"Spikey, Spikey, what are we going to do with you?" asked Ilona.
"Kill me?" mumbled Spike.
Ilona regarded them both coldly. All her plans were being ruined by the wishes of the Dark Ones. The Dark Ones were so boring. Watchers never seemed to know much about the fun world of humans, spending most of their lives shut away with musty books and ancient texts. Okay, so with their demonic knowledge AND demon powers they were a force to be reckoned with, but Ilona wasn't happy about playing their game.
Randall knew how Ilona felt, but he wouldn't tolerate insubordination. There were always more vampires willing to take a step up the hierarchy. Ilona had made her way to the top much faster than most. There were plenty of vampires who'd love to see her brought down a peg or two. Ilona's insistence that she have some fun before Spike's death troubled him. He'd rather just kill Spike and go back and make his report. All this prevarication could bring nothing but trouble. He kept an eye on her as she toyed with the weak vampire and the scared little human.
Running her beautifully manicured finger along Emma's face and neck, Ilona knew she had to do something to grab Spike's attention. She knew that he was uncomfortable at the way she was handling Emma. Let him squirm. He was becoming far too human. How pathetic.
Ilona's face contorted. Her vampire ancestry became clear. Her blood lust increased. She dug her fangs into Emma's neck and drank.
Spike tried to struggle to his feet. Ilona looked at him over Emma's struggling body.
"Leave her alone!" he managed to shout.
Ilona stopped drinking. She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. Then she laid Emma down on the floor next to Spike.
Emma feebly moved, and reached out in Spike's direction. Spike was torn between moving towards her, and moving away. The smell of her fresh blood was tantalising.
"Drink, Spike, she's deliciously fresh," said Ilona.
"Go to hell," said Spike.
V-V-V-V As the sun set, Spike's resolve was beginning to fail him. Logic was beginning to take a back seat. He sat there with Emma's head on his lap. There was a meal right in front of him. He needed a meal. Logic didn't seem to take into account the Initiative chip in his head. Maybe he could just lick her neck where the blood was. That would be okay, right? It wouldn't be hurting her.
"I'm sorry, love," he whispered, gently stroking Emma's hair.
Then Spike transformed into his more demonic looking self. He bent lower and nuzzled her neck. As he got closer to her blood, he began to wonder how much further he could go. If he could lick the blood from her neck, why shouldn't he be able to drink from an already open wound?
As his fangs brushed her neck, the pain began. He crumpled onto the floor and groaned. Ilona laughed and clapped her hands together. Randall came into the room and watched Spike slowly writhe on the floor, clutching his head. Then he took a stake out his pocket and advanced towards the pair.
It was then that something rather unexpected happened. Someone crashed through the window. Glass scattered across the floor.
"Get back you unholy fiends!" cried the newcomer.
"Great," sighed Randall.
Ilona, on the other hand, seemed to relish the prospect of a good fight.
"Give me the girl and the vampire and I'll let you all live," said the man.
"Oooh, we're so scared," said Ilona.
"Okay, so I won't let you live. Don't say I didn't warn you."
The figure looked like he meant business. He would have looked even more threatening if he hadn't been carrying a Supersoaker. Keeping the toy gun pointed in Ilona and Randall's direction, he edged towards Spike and Emma. By this time Emma had revived enough to take an interest in what was going on. She was ready when the man threw a crucifix in her direction.
"Be careful with that thing, sweetie," pleaded Spike.
V-V-V-V Ilona and Randall moved towards their captives. They knew that if the newcomer wanted the captives alive, the captives were an excellent source of leverage. The audacity of one man to come jumping into the stronghold of the local vampire leaders expecting to get away with something like this; it was, well, just too audacious!
The newcomer knew that other vampire goons were coming through the door behind him. He knew that he had to deal with Ilona and Randall and escape before things got too busy.
Emma watched as Ilona grew closer. She hid the crucifix in her hand, grasping it tightly. Whether it was the excitement, or something else, she felt stronger by the second.
The newcomer fired his water pistol. The blast hit Randall in the chest.
"Oh, wet, water, thanks a LOT," said Randall.
"You're not...?" said the now confused man.
"Er, no, I should say not," replied Randall. "But now I'm very angry."
Randall advanced on the now rather nervous man. Meanwhile Ilona reached out to grab Emma, kicking Spike as she did so. He moaned quietly.
Ilona ran her fingernail along her arm, drawing blood. Grabbing Emma's hair she pushed Emma's lips up against her blood. Spike saw what she was doing and grabbed her leg, futilely trying to pull her away from Emma.
"Drink deeply, little Emma," said Ilona.
Emma took the crucifix and jammed it against Ilona's leg. Ilona started to scream as it burned her flesh. Angrily she lifted Emma off of the ground. The crucifix fell to the floor. Ilona drank from Emma once again, her own blood still in Emma's mouth. As Emma tried to push Ilona away she felt the skin on her neck ripping. Trying to ignore the pain, she found the keys and tossed them to Spike on the floor beneath her.
By the time Spike had undone their chains, Emma was hanging limp in Ilona's arms. That made Spike even angrier. He still felt weak, but the anger burned within him. Ilona dropped Emma and wiped her mouth. Blood glistened on her fangs.
"Cow," said Spike.
Ignoring Spike, and failing to notice he'd undone the chains, Ilona turned to watch Randall. He seemed to be winning the fight. The newcomer obviously hadn't come prepared to do battle with humans. While Ilona was distracted, Spike bent over Emma and tried to wake her. She didn't look too good; he failed to get a reaction. Then he noticed a stake tucked up her jacket sleeve. Apparently they hadn't been expecting her to turn up ready for a fight with vampires. He took it, and tapped Ilona on the shoulder.
"Time to die," he said.
Ilona turned, slowly, and hissed at him. Jabbing the stake into her with all his might, she completely failed to turn to dust. He hadn't actually penetrated her outer clothing, let alone driven the stake into her heart. How embarrassing.
Ilona grabbed Spike's wrist. As she started to squeeze, the newcomer fired his water pistol at Ilona's back. She screamed and ran from the room, leaving a trail of steam in her wake.
V-V-V-V "Come on," said the newcomer.
"Hey," said Spike, "First you tell me who the hell you are."
"Oh, I'm a friend of Rupert," said the man. "I gather you've already met the rather dreadful impostor."
He looked down at the now unconscious Randall. So did Spike. Perhaps he'd underestimated the newcomer. Spike started to try and drag Emma to the shattered window, and Giles' friend eagerly took her other arm.
"I'm Simon Gray," he said, "And I'm afraid I rather messed this up."
"No," said Spike sarcastically.
"I left it until the sun had set so you wouldn't, you know, in the sun."
"That was considerate," said Spike, under his breath.
"There's scaffolding all the way down. Can you climb?"
"I can hardly walk. What do you think?"
"I'll try and carry the girl."
"Emma, her name's Emma," said Spike.
Gray managed to balance Emma on his shoulder, in a lift that was close enough to a fireman's lift to actually work. It didn't look pretty, but it worked. Then Spike threw himself off of the building. It was fair to say that Gray hadn't expected that.
"Vampires," he said to himself.
V-V-V-V Spike reached the bottom of the boiler house a lot quicker than Emma and Gray. He was extremely glad that he hadn't fallen on anything sharp and pointy. That was the sort of thing that would happen to him, what with the run of bad days he'd been having lately. He dusted himself off as he waited for Gray to descend the tower.
"Car?" asked Spike.
"Yes, this way," said Gray.
Gray had the same upper class sort of accent that Giles had. Spike found it both irritating and strangely comforting all at the same time.
Crossing the rubble strewn area at the base of the building, they got to a car park. Gray leaned Emma's body up against his car as he fumbled with the keys.
"You locked it?" asked Spike.
"Well, although it might not facilitate a quick getaway, I would have looked rather silly if someone had stolen the car," said Gray.
Spike shrugged. Gray tilted the front passenger seat forwards and pushed Emma onto the back seat of the Mini. Spike got in next, while Gray got into the driver's seat. Starting up the car, and fixing a clothes peg onto the vehicle's choke, they set off.
V-V-V-V Spike looked in the rear view mirror. Emma wasn't moving. Gray noticed his discomfort and reached over to open the glove box. He took out a thermos, and handed it to Spike.
"Drink this. You'll feel better."
"Ilona was trying to turn her," said Spike.
"I noticed," said Gray. "Perhaps it is was meant to happen. Though I can't how this is going to work out."
"What?"
"Well, Emma seems to be Slayer material. Hadn't you noticed? Of course, she was never trained, and fate meant she was never called, but she's clearly special. Only those who are special are sucked into things this much. Apart from those who are just in the story to be eaten. You yourself were drawn to her."
"I don't like Slayers," said Spike grumpily.
"Of course not."
For a moment they were both quiet. Spike unscrewed the thermos' lid and studied the contents. Warm blood. Yum. Gray concentrated on pushing the Mini to its limits. It was almost like being on the Monte Carlo Rally some time in the 60s, except the Mini wasn't exactly a Mini Cooper.
"Helicopter. Great. We have to find somewhere to hide."
V-V-V-V The Mini was going as fast as it could. Gray swerved onto the wrong side of the road to avoid the speed camera on Ashingdon Road. He was driving away from Southend. He knew Emma would die unless he took her to Southend hospital, but since she'd probably ingested some of Ilona's blood a hospital might not be able to help much anyway.
Spike was quiet. He thoughtfully sucked on a straw. If Spike got out of this he'd have to thank Giles. Although Giles' impostor friend had meant Emma was dead. Or would be. Though perhaps not permanently.
"That other bloke was reading your messages?" asked Spike.
"Randall? Yes."
"Dark Ones?"
"What? They're a myth. A Watcher would kill himself rather than let that happen. Like Merrick, god rest his soul."
"But he said," insisted Spike.
"Well he was jolly well lying about them. He certainly had the local vampires under his control, didn't he?"
"True," said Spike, taking another swig of the warm blood. "But why did he want to kill me?"
"You talk too much?"
V-V-V-V When he got to the Elim Church, Gray braked. Swerving right, cutting in front of a rather surprised Ford Escort driver, he sped up Church Road. Parking the car under some trees, Gray listened. It sounded like the helicopter was hovering somewhere overhead. He opened his door.
"Let's get Emma out of the car. There's a church on top of the hill, we can hide in there."
"A church?" asked Spike. "Yeah, why not."
Carrying Emma was much easier now Spike had regained some of his former strength. Between them they struggled up the unsurfaced road until they reached the brow of the hill. The view was spectacular. Even though it was getting dark you could see for miles. The river Roach flowed through the fields. House lights twinkled. For everyone else it was just another Christmas Eve. They were probably sitting in front of their TVs watching that Christmas film with Dudley Moore in it.
They walked through the quiet graveyard. All the graves near the church were old ones; the new ones were a way down the path, past the church. The grave of a pirate was here somewhere, though it was so weathered that it was hard to tell.
Carrying Emma into the church's porch, Gray tried the door. It was locked. They laid her on the floor, and considered their next move.
"I am NOT breaking into a church," said Spike.
"Very commendable," said Gray.
They looked out of the porch, waiting for the bad guys to come running after them. Gray's gaze lingered on a particularly beautiful grave ornament - a statue of a mourning angel. This all seemed so unreal. They couldn't hear the noise of the helicopter anymore. That either meant the baddies had gone home or they were walking towards them at that very moment.
Then came the sound they were dreading. Footsteps. But the footsteps were coming from the direction of the fresh graves. Had the helicopter landed further down the hill? Spike drew on his vampire strength. He was as ready as he'd ever be.
V-V-V-V Torchlight beamed into the porch.
"We've got one!" shouted one of the people.
As Spike and Gray's eyes adjusted, they saw that the people were just boys. One of them was brandishing a cricket stump, the pointy end wavering towards Spike. Then one of the boys recognised Gray.
"Aw, man," he said.
"Look, I told you boys you shouldn't mess with the forces of the undead."
"You're hanging out with a vampire?" asked another of the boys.
"Not as such. Look, we're in trouble. You should get out of here."
The boys were quiet. One of them shuffled his feet nervously. They didn't really want to go home. They didn't want to watch the sugary Christmas TV. They were after something far darker.
"Too late," said Spike.
Sure enough, the forces of the undead were tramping up the slope towards the church. If they'd been holding flaming torches and waving pitchforks it would have looked like one of those old vampire films. As it was, it didn't.
They all squashed into the porch. Gray tried to pick the lock on the church door. The door wasn't about to open if they just hit it - it was solid oak. Pretty hard stuff. He was failing miserably.
"Please open," he pleaded.
To his surprise, the door did. The three boys, Spike, Gray and Emma all made it into the church. The small building was dark and cold. The only sign of activity was a candle burning at the altar. Gray latched the door.
"It won't keep them out for long. I'm afraid we're rather doomed."
"Or not," said Spike.
V-V-V-V In the gloom, Gray could just about make out the figures of a group of men dressed in what looked like Viking garb. They all carried huge swords and looked very fearsome. While he was trying to figure out what that might mean, he noticed a beautiful woman drifting towards them from the direction of the lit candle. A strange blue light was emanating from her. She obviously wasn't human.
"Look, ghost people, we need some help. If you don't help, we're dead." Spike turned to Gray, "And don't point out that I'm already dead."
"I wasn't going to," said Gray.
The vampires outside started to pound on the door.
"You know," said Gray, "I think I know who these people are. This church was built on the site of an old Minster, which was built after the battle of Assandun. That was 1013, or thereabouts. It decided the kingship of England. There are bound to be a lot of unhappy ghosts around here."
"As opposed to the happy sort?" asked Spike.
Sighing, Spike wished he had a cigarette. As the pounding on the door persisted, it began to splinter. It hadn't been built to withstand a horde of vampires.
"Useless ghosts," muttered Spike.
Whether the ghosts heard him, or whether they were eager to fight someone a thousand years of relative boredom, they flew threw the door. It sounded like the vampires were being carried along with them. Throwing open the door, with one bible and three cricket stumps as their weapons, Spike, Gray and the three boys looked out of the church.
The screams of the vampires echoed around the churchyard. They were pinned against the gravestones. The gravestones with crosses on them. Smoke rose from their tortured bodies. Slowly the posse advanced, staking them one by one. Ilona wasn't among them.
V-V-V-V The battle over, apart from the non-appearance of Spike's arch nemesis, they retreated back into the church. Emma still lay on one of the pews. The night was cold, and the breath of Gray and the boys was clearly visible. Emma's was not.
Spike sat on the pew next to her, and cradled her head on his lap.
"I'm so sorry, love," he said.
Gray stood next to him in the aisle, with his arms crossed and a rather grim expression on his face. Spike looked up at his pathetically.
"I never wanted this to happen."
"You never wanted her to become like you?" asked Gray.
"Well, the thought crossed my mind. But look what happened to Ilona. She used to be NICE."
"And when you bit her she turned into a demon woman. That isn't altogether surprising."
"Aren't you the clever one." Spike stroked Emma's hair. "Don't suppose there are any gypsies round here?"
"Gypsies? No, not that I know of."
"If we could get her cursed, she could keep her soul. Then she'd still be my little Emma."
"Theoretically, it's possible, I suppose. But what about the demon?"
"Trust me, it would work. There's a right ponce in L.A. who's semi-living proof."
V-V-V-V Spike was all set to pick Emma up and wander the streets in search of gypsies when he noticed the blue lady was still there. She hovered closer and closer until she was able to reach out and touch Emma's unbreathing body.
"Her soul is still here," she said. "What price her soul?"
To Spike time seemed to slow down. All he could see in the dark church was the blue lady, Emma, and himself.
"I think I love her," Spike said, though he could hardly believe he'd uttered the words.
"From the love of an evil one comes what?" said the blue woman.
"Potential?"
"Disaster," corrected the lady.
"If you can help me out here, I'll go back to Sunnydale. Is that what you want?"
"Evil must leave. Must return to where it belongs. It will be needed."
"I don't want to leave her," said Spike.
"Sadness. But also hope. Something good comes of this."
The blue lady's hand reached into Emma's body and a bright blue light filled the church. It was finished.
Epilogue: Monday 25th December
Emma felt more alive than she'd done in a long time, which was ironic since she was medically a lot deader. She knew there was something bad inside of her, but there was something good inside of her too. Gray had told her she'd had the aptitude to be a Slayer but not the super-strength. Now she had the super-strength. Maybe something good would come of all this. Maybe. And even if it wasn't true, and she didn't have a soul anymore, Spike wasn't so bad for an evil demon. She'd miss him. Sitting in her quiet room, she began to cry.
V-V-V-V Gray's mobile phone rang.
"Uh-huh?" he said. Then there was a gap, before he said, "Thanks." He pocketed the phone. "Ilona's presumed dead," he said. "We found one of her minions and he said Randall staked her. Randall won't get far."
Spike inhaled deeply. He'd virtually chain smoked since the end of the excitement. He nodded.
"Emma's risen, but she does appear to still be Emma. Apart from also being partly demonic, of course."
"Angel had this 'problem with true happiness' thing."
"Don't worry, I'll look after her," said Gray.
"Watching's your middle name?"
"Something like that."
Stake and Chips
By: Fiery Fred
Set soon after Spike got his chip. He sets off to England...
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama/Adventure - Words: 15,501 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 5/26/2001 - id: 295307
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Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten