Lycanthrope, Vampirism, and Magick

Spike pounds as hard as he dares on the door, doesn’t want to resort to breaking it down just yet.

It’s been just over a year since he met what he thought was his final death, nearly ten months since popping out of that damned necklace like some bloody jinn. After everything that has happened, getting his body back, having to face the dislike of his Sire’s people and the loss of half of Sunnydale he was finally finding his place, but there was still something missing.

“Peaches!! Get your fat arse and get out of that room! You got damsels to save, according to Mr. Greenjeans! Angel!!”

Still no answer from his useless lump of a sire. Spike kicked at the door and finally gave up, turning and going back down to the lobby as quickly as he could. Wesley, Gunn and Fred were all there, gathering weapons.


“Not coming down is he?” The black man looked to be a combination of furious and worried all at once.

“Didn’t even answer mate, we’re gonna have to do something. This depression is getting worse and it’s not like we can take him to the bloody shrink.” Spike put on his duster, checking his pockets to make sure everything was there, smokes, lighter, razor, and weapons.

“I kinda feel sorry for him, poor thing, it hasn’t been easy for him.”

“We all know that ducks, hasn’t been easy for us either. I bloody well died, and I’m not moping about in some room. We’ve got slayers running amok all over the place, staking first and asking questions later. Add to that someone’s making trouble with the human sacrifices. Not like we can all sit around on our arse and wait for someone else to do it though.”

The others were silent as Spike prowled around the lobby of the Hyperion. It was odd, at first they had neither liked nor trusted the blond vampire, but in the course of trying to get his corporeal form back, first Fred and then Wesley and Gunn learned to trust and then like him. It helped that they needed him like Buffy and the others in Sunnydale never did.

“We might as well get on with it then. According to Lorne and Gunn’s information a group of demons have supposedly found a way to reopen the Hellmouth with a special sacrifice, but they need certain things, one of which is a chalice that is on exhibition at the Natural History Museum. Celtic in origin, Waylan, the famous smithy that legend has made Excalibur, supposedly made it. I don’t have any pictures of what it looks like, but it is silver, so I assume that if one of the bad guys is carrying a silver cup, make sure they don’t keep it.” Wesley summed up what little he knew about tonight’s mission.

Gunn and Lorne and all their contacts, made what little good they had managed to do without Cordelia possible. Spike never got to know the seer, but from sto storieshad had heard she had been a riot, all proud and not willing to back down from just about anything, a great lady. A pain in the ass, but a great lady still yet.

“Well let’s not stand here larking about, wanna get back before the sun rises, don’t feel much like trying to fold myself into the Poofter’s trunk again. And I’m driving.”

Gunn spoke up at that. “Oh hell no! I’m driving. If I’m gonna die tonight it’s gonna be in battle and not on Sunset!”

“Shotgun!” Fred spoke up. She was doing that more and more, gaining confidence in herself. Both Spike and Gunn had taken her in hand, teacher her different methods of self-defense and weapons, while Wesley had started teaching the shy brunette rudimentary magicks and some demonic languages.

The four ran to Angel’s car, leaving Lorne at the hotel in case he got any more information. Spike made the obligatory grumbles about having to ride in the back with the “nancy-boy Watcher-wanna be” but in truth he was taking to time needed to get to the museum to think about his Sire.

After the events of last summer and what happened with Connor, Angel was slipping further and further away. Spike was going to have to beat some sense into the poof, just like old times only Spike would be the one giving the beating and Angelus was the one who needed to learn.

The drive was a fifteen minute one, but Gunn managed it in only ten, thanks to there being not much traffic on the 101 or on Vermont Ave. at two a.m.

They parked in an alley off of Exposition Blvd about two blocks away from the museum and walked the rest of the way.

“What now? Do we just stroll on up to the guards and say, “Hey, there might be some bad guys trying to rob you. Oh this? Just an ax for fighting demons, no big.”

Spike snickered at Gunn’s comments. The man had a wonderful wicked sense of humor sometimes, and now that he wasn’t always threatening him with a stake they got along better. “I dunno mate, but it would be funny just to see the looks on their faces!”

“Maybe if they’re in there already the door will be open, or we can watch and make sure they don’t get in? If they can’t get in they can’t get the cup.”

“Good plan Fred! Right then, split up, I’ll go with Fred to the back, you two watch this entrance.”

As soon as they left, Gunn was laughing. “He does that disappearing act with Fred once more and I’m gonna start calling him Daphne!”

“Sodden hell I thought I’d left the Scooby gang behind. He looked over at Gunn, “You don’t mind him going with what used to be your girl do you?”

“Nah man, we just weren’t right for each other, maybe he’ll be what she needs, Fred is damn special, and Wes knows that, so it’s good. If he didn’t I’d beat him to death with a tire iron.”

They fell silent as they waited. After a few moments both men started fidgeting, neither one of them was good at waiting patiently.
Ju
Just as Spike looked about ready to go up to the front door and give it a try, Gunn’s cell phone rang.

“Yeah?”

Spike could hear Fred on the other end of the line. “There’s a window to the basement open and the alarm on the window isn’t working, Wes thinks this is how they got in, it’s around the back. We’re going on in.”

“Fred wait…Dammit she hung up!”

“Right then, mate, lets get around to the back.”

Thanks to his speed, Spike got there first, Gunn followiehinehind and panting, out of breath. Spike looked around the back of the building but didn’t see anyone or anything.

“I’ll go in first, then you can come in.”

”Think we can find Fred and Wes once we get in there?”

“Sure mate, unless the place smells like cat piss or something. Vamp nose remember? Besides all we have to do is go in and look for a fight and that will be our two lovebirds I bet.”

Spike slipped through the window, Gunn following once again. They found themselves in a dark storeroom, boxes, crates, and shelves full of interesting bits of art and history from different times.

A large part of Spike just wanted to poke through the boxes to see what treasures could be found at the very least, and to clean and catalog the place. Like many people from England during the turn of the last century, William had been fascinated by books the like of The Book of the Dead and The Golden Bough.

That was before he learned he’d be one of the supernatural beings that was wrote about. Too bad the public mostly remembered that damn Stroker’s book.

Spike picked up the scent of their two missing companions. Hallway, offices and more storage rooms, janitor closets were all passed by, till they finally the found a staircase.

About halfway up, Spike’s could hear a fight on the floor above and broke into a run, Gunn following. They finally found Wesley and Fred fighting with a group of demons, pinned down behind a column.

It was a mixed group, twenty in all, mostly vampires. Spike immediately went for thggesggest and badest looking vamp, staking a couple of the minions before letting loose with a volley of kicks and punches, backing his opponent up.

Gunn was holding his own, dusting minions and knocking out one of the Mystra demons before taking on the Jareel. Wesley was providing cover with a crossbow and protecting Fred who looked dazed, a trail of blooicklickling from her temple.

The vampire Spike was fighting was good, if it weren’t for the fact that the girl was obliviously hurt and they needed to keep this chalice from the wrong hands, he’d be enjoying the challenge. Suddenly he found himself thrown to the ground, he used his legs to leverage himself up, and sprang up ready for the attack.

His opponent was nowhere to be seen, but the Jareel had Gunn pinned down so he went over there to help, kicking the demon in the back of the knee, causing him to collapse. He heard Wesley grunt in pain and turned, one of the Mystras had Wesley’s arms pinned, holding him for a vampire. Another demon Spike wasn’t sure what was had Fred she was unconscious.

With a shout Spike ran across the room, knocking over one of the displays. He grabbed the vampire by the head and twisted, tearing it off. A shower of dust making Wesley cough as Spike tore him out the demons arms and ramming his hand through the demon’s chest, tearing out his heart. Gunn had recovered and killed his opponent and had his knife at the demon that was holding Fred throat.

“Drop her, now and I won’t use this!”

Spike snarled at the demon, giving him further incentive, and the minion did as he was told. Gunn took the weapon away and the demon started to run.

“I only said I wouldn’t use the knife asshole!” With that, Gunn raised his ax and hacked the demon in two, right down the middle.

There were no more demons to fight. Unfortunately there was no chalice either. They had failed and both Wesley and Fred were wounded pretty badly. From the looks of it Gunn had some superficial cuts and bruises as well.

“That didn’t exactly go as planned.” Wesley’s voice was thick with pain; one of his shoulders was dislocated from the looks.

“No sense larking about waiting for the guards or the local constables to show up. Lets get out of here.” Spike was furious, both at Wesley and Fred for not waiting for back up but mostly at Angel. A fifth fighter, especialf hif his Sire’s skill and strength would have made all the difference.

As they left the building, Gunn helping Wes and Spike carrying Fred, Spike made the decision. It was defiantly time to confront his Sire.