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thismaz.
I think I said this before, but I've got an official email and a button now. BoaS has been nominated at the Forbidden Awards. Thank you to whoever did that.
I am way behind on reading my flist. I think I was at skip=320 this morning, which is sometime last Sunday, I think. *g* Well, that's what Sundays are for, isn't it? - Catching up.
Meanwhile here's chapter 30.
Title: O' Mice an' Men
Part 30 of the Blood on a Sundial series.
Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #46 - Lamia
At:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Summary: Spike, Xander, AU in Season 2. We are talking slow burn here, people.
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 3,120
30. O' Mice an' Men
Spike was glad to get to the car and get the boy and the watcher bundled into the backseat and the body dumped in the boot. Xander was twitchy. He'd kept the gun on Watcher Junior as they made their careful way out of the hotel to where the car was stashed, but Spike had almost been afraid he'd shoot through sheer nerves, the way he was trembling. Taking his seat behind the wheel, Spike was feeling justifiably aggrieved. He'd only killed the old guy because he knew Xander cared about the Slayer. It was not like it was anything to him what the Council wanted to do. He could have gone in, done the job and got out again, with half the fuss and with one favour to Black Wind paid off. But he'd not only had to carry the body, he'd also had to shepherd two live humans out of the hotel and keep an eye out to avoid the hotel staff.
He looked over his shoulder. The boy was slumped back in his seat, arms wrapped around himself as if he was cold, the gun now hanging uselessly from lax fingers. At least the watcher was being quiet. He was huddled forward, hands gripping his knees and his head bowed onto his chest. Spike flipped open the glove box and rummaged around, finally extracting a length of sash cord and a relatively clean handkerchief. He reached back and nudged Xander's leg. "Hey mate," he said encouragingly, adding more harshly, "want to do the honours and tie this guy up? We don't want trouble here. You insisted on keeping him alive, you look after him."
Xander raised his head and his eyes widened when he saw the rope and handkerchief, but he took them and, after turning them over in his hands a few times with a puzzled air, he seemed to realise what Spike wanted. He shuffled around so that he was facing Wesley. "Uhm, listen, I need to tie you up. Can you give me your hands?" He'd picked up Wesley's right hand and began to tie a loop of the cord around his wrist while Wesley just watched, as if the hand didn't belong to him. He looked up at Xander, but Xander was avoiding his eye. Wesley lifted his left arm and placed it on his knee, allowing Xander to tie the two wrists together. Spike returned his gaze to the front, started the engine and pulled away, turning left out of the alley into the busy evening traffic.
By the time he turned off onto a quieter street and had a chance to check again, Xander had the handkerchief in place and Wesley had slumped back in the seat. There were tears hovering in the corners of his eyes. Xander, however, was looking a little more alert, although there was a tautness about him that worried Spike in some indefinable way. Shrugging, Spike decided to let the boy stew. He'd get over whatever was bothering him. Meanwhile Spike opened his window wide and concentrated on the road.
Getting rid of the body didn't prove too tricky, weevilers tended to have a limited geographical range, so it was just a matter of tracking them down in the likely places. It only took an hour or so before he caught the rancid scent of them, down by the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. He glanced over his shoulder. The boy looked a little better. The tightness around his mouth had relaxed, although he still wouldn't look at Spike and his shoulders had slumped even further. With a curt, "Stay here." Spike got out of the car and went to strike another bargain. Then it was just a matter of delivering the body to the mouth of the weevilers' den. He even got a cold snack from the blood pooling in the neck and head, as he delivered it. By morning there'd be nothing but the odd scrap of bone left and those few broken pieces would sink peacefully to the bottom of the Hudson.
On returning to the car Spike decided he'd had just about enough of Xander's sulking. He opened the rear door and pulled the boy out, reached in again, grabbed the watcher's upper arm and dragged him over towards the middle of the seat. Wesley started struggling and panicked eyes gazed up at Spike from above the gag as he shook his head wildly from side to side. "Don't worry, Percy," Spike sneered. "You're not on the menu tonight. My boy asked for your life, so you co-operate and you'll be fine " Wesley didn't look convinced, but at least he stopped trying to fight as Spike shoved his shoulders down so he was lying on his side across the seat. Turning back to Xander, Spike marched the boy around the car, opened the front passenger door and gave him a shove in that direction. "Get in," he ordered. Xander did as he was told. It didn't do any good. The boy never said a word, the whole way home.
Jimmy was obviously on the watch for them, because the garage doors began to open as soon as they arrived at the factory. Spike pulled the car in and turned off the engine. He got out as Jimmy shut the door and for the first time that evening, he began to relax. Walking over to Jimmy, he clapped him on the shoulder. "You eaten?" he asked. Jimmy shook his head. "Go to the house behind Duke's place. Take your time. Have some fun. I've got a prisoner and I don't need a hungry fledge round at the moment." He deliberately caught and held Jimmy's eyes. "You did good," he added. "I'm pleased. So go get your reward." He shoved his hand deep into a pocket. "In fact, here, butter them up, pay for it, for once. Make sure they know it's because I'm pleased about how they're conducting their business. That'll get you a fresh one." He allowed his face to take on a sterner expression. "And steer clear of any that're using Orpheus. I don't want you touching that shit. Okay?"
Jimmy nodded and took the proffered note. "Thank you, Sire. I will, I promise." He paused a moment. "Does this mean you're planning on moving on Flavia again?" he asked.
Spike shook his head. "Nah. Just don't want anyone forgetting that I could, that's all. Don't want them forgetting who won that fight and that she's only Master on my word." He nodded towards the door. "Go on. Have fun." Jimmy grinned and ran, as if he thought Spike might change his mind.
Spike turned back to the car and found Xander standing two paces behind him. "You don't talk to him," he said, jerking a thumb back over is shoulder. "He's not stupid, but he is just a fledge and I don't have time to teach him. So he's unpredictable. You stay clear. Okay?"
What's Orpheus?" Xander asked.
Spike shrugged. "Drug. Not your concern. You hear what I said?" Xander nodded. "Right. Well. Come on, we'll lock this one up in the storeroom." He walked over to the wall and took a key down from a hook. "And you're cooking for him. I don't want any complaints."
He turned back to find that Xander hadn't moved. "Err. What about... uhm... bathroom stuff?" Xander asked.
Spike sighed and closed his eyes as he thought that one through. Bloody inconvenient humans. He looked up at Xander again. "Okay. Good point." He came back to the car and opened the boot, leaning in, searching amid the accumulated rubbish. Finding what he was looking for, he gave a grunt of satisfaction and stood back up, dragging a long length of hefty chain and a leg shackle out of the mess and gathering it over his arm. He tossed the key to Xander. "There's some sacks of cotton waste in there." He nodded towards the store room. "Take it through to the toilet block. I'll bring the watcher." Seeing Xander's expression, he added, "And don't start moaning. You want to keep him, I don't want him stinking the place out, so he gets to sleep next to the facilities. If you don't like sharing, I can always kill him and have him off my hands."
Xander shook his head. "No. No, that's okay. No complaints. I am totally complaint free." He hurried across to the store, fumbling the lock in his eagerness, but eventually getting it open. Spike, meanwhile, went to the old staff rest room and began testing the pipes to find the one most firmly attached to the wall, feeling unreasonably relieved to hear the boy talking again. He'd hire someone to put in a proper fix point tomorrow, if Xander hadn't got bored with having a pet to look after by then.
*****
Spike clipped the shackle around Wesley's ankle and sat back on his haunches. He'd searched the man's pockets and removed anything that could conceivable be used as a lock pick and Xander had made up a thick mattress of cotton waste for him in the corner of the room and now removed the gag. Wesley looked almost comfortable, if you ignored the way he was grimacing as he got the saliva flowing again and tried to rid himself of the taste of cotton. After a few minutes of this, he sat back against the wall. "What... what do you want from me?" he asked nervously.
Spike nodded towards Xander. "The boy asked me not to kill you." He shook his head. "He reckons you might still know stuff. And I'm thinking he's right. So how about you tell me a bit more about the Anashaman and why it didn't work on me?"
Wesley looked up at Xander. "Thank you," he said. "You must know... I... I really don't want to die." Xander shrugged. Wesley looked back at Spike. "Uhm... Yes... Err... Of course, I'll tell you anything. Anything. Although... in truth, and I know this isn't what you want to hear... I really don't know much about it. Just what I said. It's not taught at the academy and I have only been working for the Council for a couple of years. Before that I was at university..." Spike gave a low growl and Wesley flinched. "I... I.... I..." He took a breath, seemed to gather himself together and started again, speaking eagerly. "Errr... It's old and it's been handed down through the Council since before there were records. It takes magic and neutralises it, but it's very focused and has a very short range. So it's not often used in the field. Uhm... I... I never heard of it until recently. So I don't know any secrets." He looked up at Spike, pleadingly. "Please, just tell me what you want to know. I'll help you in any way I can."
Spike smiled. "Why didn't it work on me, then?" he asked.
"Well I think... that is to say... there's a debate, of sorts, in the Watchers Council. Among the more academic watchers... About the nature of vampires..."
Spike frowned, "I know about that. 'M not stupid. I've read the arguments - how you watchers defend your cause with rationalisations about the unnatural nature of demons. Well, we may be unnatural, but we're here. Vampires may be predators, but so are lots of so called natural creatures, so are humans. And not all demons are 'evil' in your definition of the word, or even violent. You watchers just have a need to stand on the moral high ground - you debate and argue and it's all to justify the fact you want to wipe us out. I knew some German scientists and soldiers like that, about 50 years ago."
Xander had taken a seat at the foot of Wesley's makeshift bed, with his knees drawn up in front of him and Spike saw him start at that, his head coming up to stare. But before Spike could catch his eye, he looked away and seemed to concentrate on fiddling with his shoe laces.
Meanwhile Wesley blanched under Spike's sudden vehemence. "Err... Please. I'm sorry. Really, I am. We... we studied it in philosophy. It was an academic debate, like the Angels dancing on the head of a pin." He glanced up at Spike, searching for recognition of the reference and Spike nodded.
"There's a reason for you telling us all this?"
"Yes. yes, there is. Please. My... My father, like most members of the Council believed that vampires are unnatural. That they could only exist through the presence of magic. Evil magic. Wrongly used magic. They argue that the evil has to be destroyed to put the world right again. That when the old ones left the Earth, the act that created modern demons was a misuse of power and needs to be corrected.
"The... the other school of thought, the unpopular one, is that they... uhm... you, are natural. That demons are a natural part of creation. It is a heresy, but we studied it. As an argument it wasn't very strong. It never really held up in debate... "
"Of course it didn't," Spike sneered. "Couldn't have that, could we?"
"But that's my point," Wesley said. "I... I think that the fact that the Anashaman didn't kill you would tend to suggest that the commonly accepted view is, is... wrong." He shrugged, helplessly. "That might be why the Anashaman was never used as a weapon against demons... Or maybe it was, and that's why it was ignored for so long... because it didn't work...? That's all I can suggest. I really don't know. But it is very, very powerful. Every reference agrees on that. And it does neutralise magic, or so I'm told. I... I heard rumours of it being used against a coven in Devon, who were plotting against the Council. But, what I mean is, if you had been magical, it should have worked."
Spike sat back, leaning on his braced arms and relaxed. The implications of this would be food for later thought, but right now... it felt... right. Not that he'd even felt the need for any sort of validation, but, it felt... nice, to know that demon kind were natural. And especially nice to prove the watchers wrong. He let his head fall back between his shoulders and stared up at the stained and dirty ceiling. "Oh you watchers," he said. "'For all thine impious proud-heart sophistries, Unlawful magic, and enticing lies' you end up proving through experiment what you didn't want to know." He laughed with delight at the concept. "Not that it'll change anything." He lifted his head and focussed back on Wesley. "I think you've proved you aren't interested in truth, for all your posturing." He pushed himself back to sit upright and crossed his legs in front of him, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Well, since we've sorted that age old question out, and since you're being so chatty, how about you tell me what you know about the Argentum Veneficus too?"
Wesley looked around wildly, as if searching for inspiration from the dingy walls and toilet cubicles, but before he could splutter out any words, Xander interrupted. "Hang on," he said, indignantly. "Can we rewind a moment? Did I just hear you right? Are you saying that vampires are like... like lions, or something? That it's wrong to kill them? 'Cause, that doesn't sound right to me."
Spike smiled as he turned to look at him. "No, pet. He's not saying that. Vampires hunt humans, so humans have every reason to hunt them back. It's just that the Watchers Council has a crusade, a mission, to rid the Earth of all demons and they justify it by arguing that demons are not natural. Even the peaceful ones."
Xander interrupted again, "There are peaceful demons?"
"'Course there are. Lots of demons are peaceful, some even tend to be 'good'. But most are like humans, neither good nor bad." He raised an eyebrow and Xander made an 'okay, carry on' motion with his hands. Spike nodded. "All this stuff." He waved his hand vaguely around the room. "It doesn't make any difference. It answers the question for the debating society, nothing more. Not going to change anything, except it'll give the minority side some powerful ammunition if they ever hear about it." He grinned. "But the thing I like, is it robs the watchers of their holier than thou justification." Xander's face slowly spread into a grin, too and for a moment Spike thought he was alright again. Then his smile shut down, like the light had been turned off and he went back to staring at his feet and picking at the hem of his jeans.
Spike turned back to the watcher. "The Argentum Veneficus. Talk, or I'll turn you and in a coupla days, you'll be happy to tell me everything you know."
Wesley cringed back "You... you wouldn't."
Looking up Xander said, "He would. He turned Jimmy because he wanted an IT expert."
Wesley turned horrified eyes on Xander. "And you stay with this monster? You condone this by your presence."
Xander went back to concentrating on his shoes and Spike ignored Wesley's last statement. "Yes, I would," he said, with a smug smile and a slight nod. "I'm a very bad man."
Closing his eyes, as if trying to blot out the room, the world, the whole of reality, Wesley buried his face in his still bound hands. After a moment, he looked up again. "I don't know anything," he said, stiffly.
"Oh, come on. Guy like you, stuffed full of book learning? You know what I'm talking about." Spike allowed a low growl to rumble up from the bottom of his chest and was rewarded with a very satisfying flinch.
"Okay, okay. Yes. I know of the book. I may have even seen it. But that was in London. It's not there now."
"So where is it?"
"It... It... was one of a shipment sent out to Mr, umm, to the slayer's watcher."
"In Sunnydale" Spike finished for him. "Bloody Hell. I'm not ready to go back there yet. Bloody, bloody hell!" He pushed himself to his feet and stormed out of the room, before he ended up doing Xander's pet watcher an injury, out of sheer frustration, throwing back over his shoulder, "Come on, mate. We have a shaman to see." He didn't look back, but he heard Xander's footsteps slapping on the concrete behind him as he headed for the door. "And make sure you've got that blasted stone with you."
Footnote - The line Spike quotes: 'For all thine impious proud-heart sophistries, Unlawful magic, and enticing lies' is from the poem Lamia, by John Keats (1795–1821). Oh, and the title comes from the line 'The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, gang aft agley' from Robert Burns' (1759–1796) poem 'To a Mouse'.
Next Part
.
I think I said this before, but I've got an official email and a button now. BoaS has been nominated at the Forbidden Awards. Thank you to whoever did that.
I am way behind on reading my flist. I think I was at skip=320 this morning, which is sometime last Sunday, I think. *g* Well, that's what Sundays are for, isn't it? - Catching up.
Meanwhile here's chapter 30.
Title: O' Mice an' Men
Part 30 of the Blood on a Sundial series.
Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #46 - Lamia
At:
tamingthemuseSummary: Spike, Xander, AU in Season 2. We are talking slow burn here, people.
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 3,120
30. O' Mice an' Men
Spike was glad to get to the car and get the boy and the watcher bundled into the backseat and the body dumped in the boot. Xander was twitchy. He'd kept the gun on Watcher Junior as they made their careful way out of the hotel to where the car was stashed, but Spike had almost been afraid he'd shoot through sheer nerves, the way he was trembling. Taking his seat behind the wheel, Spike was feeling justifiably aggrieved. He'd only killed the old guy because he knew Xander cared about the Slayer. It was not like it was anything to him what the Council wanted to do. He could have gone in, done the job and got out again, with half the fuss and with one favour to Black Wind paid off. But he'd not only had to carry the body, he'd also had to shepherd two live humans out of the hotel and keep an eye out to avoid the hotel staff.
He looked over his shoulder. The boy was slumped back in his seat, arms wrapped around himself as if he was cold, the gun now hanging uselessly from lax fingers. At least the watcher was being quiet. He was huddled forward, hands gripping his knees and his head bowed onto his chest. Spike flipped open the glove box and rummaged around, finally extracting a length of sash cord and a relatively clean handkerchief. He reached back and nudged Xander's leg. "Hey mate," he said encouragingly, adding more harshly, "want to do the honours and tie this guy up? We don't want trouble here. You insisted on keeping him alive, you look after him."
Xander raised his head and his eyes widened when he saw the rope and handkerchief, but he took them and, after turning them over in his hands a few times with a puzzled air, he seemed to realise what Spike wanted. He shuffled around so that he was facing Wesley. "Uhm, listen, I need to tie you up. Can you give me your hands?" He'd picked up Wesley's right hand and began to tie a loop of the cord around his wrist while Wesley just watched, as if the hand didn't belong to him. He looked up at Xander, but Xander was avoiding his eye. Wesley lifted his left arm and placed it on his knee, allowing Xander to tie the two wrists together. Spike returned his gaze to the front, started the engine and pulled away, turning left out of the alley into the busy evening traffic.
By the time he turned off onto a quieter street and had a chance to check again, Xander had the handkerchief in place and Wesley had slumped back in the seat. There were tears hovering in the corners of his eyes. Xander, however, was looking a little more alert, although there was a tautness about him that worried Spike in some indefinable way. Shrugging, Spike decided to let the boy stew. He'd get over whatever was bothering him. Meanwhile Spike opened his window wide and concentrated on the road.
Getting rid of the body didn't prove too tricky, weevilers tended to have a limited geographical range, so it was just a matter of tracking them down in the likely places. It only took an hour or so before he caught the rancid scent of them, down by the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. He glanced over his shoulder. The boy looked a little better. The tightness around his mouth had relaxed, although he still wouldn't look at Spike and his shoulders had slumped even further. With a curt, "Stay here." Spike got out of the car and went to strike another bargain. Then it was just a matter of delivering the body to the mouth of the weevilers' den. He even got a cold snack from the blood pooling in the neck and head, as he delivered it. By morning there'd be nothing but the odd scrap of bone left and those few broken pieces would sink peacefully to the bottom of the Hudson.
On returning to the car Spike decided he'd had just about enough of Xander's sulking. He opened the rear door and pulled the boy out, reached in again, grabbed the watcher's upper arm and dragged him over towards the middle of the seat. Wesley started struggling and panicked eyes gazed up at Spike from above the gag as he shook his head wildly from side to side. "Don't worry, Percy," Spike sneered. "You're not on the menu tonight. My boy asked for your life, so you co-operate and you'll be fine " Wesley didn't look convinced, but at least he stopped trying to fight as Spike shoved his shoulders down so he was lying on his side across the seat. Turning back to Xander, Spike marched the boy around the car, opened the front passenger door and gave him a shove in that direction. "Get in," he ordered. Xander did as he was told. It didn't do any good. The boy never said a word, the whole way home.
Jimmy was obviously on the watch for them, because the garage doors began to open as soon as they arrived at the factory. Spike pulled the car in and turned off the engine. He got out as Jimmy shut the door and for the first time that evening, he began to relax. Walking over to Jimmy, he clapped him on the shoulder. "You eaten?" he asked. Jimmy shook his head. "Go to the house behind Duke's place. Take your time. Have some fun. I've got a prisoner and I don't need a hungry fledge round at the moment." He deliberately caught and held Jimmy's eyes. "You did good," he added. "I'm pleased. So go get your reward." He shoved his hand deep into a pocket. "In fact, here, butter them up, pay for it, for once. Make sure they know it's because I'm pleased about how they're conducting their business. That'll get you a fresh one." He allowed his face to take on a sterner expression. "And steer clear of any that're using Orpheus. I don't want you touching that shit. Okay?"
Jimmy nodded and took the proffered note. "Thank you, Sire. I will, I promise." He paused a moment. "Does this mean you're planning on moving on Flavia again?" he asked.
Spike shook his head. "Nah. Just don't want anyone forgetting that I could, that's all. Don't want them forgetting who won that fight and that she's only Master on my word." He nodded towards the door. "Go on. Have fun." Jimmy grinned and ran, as if he thought Spike might change his mind.
Spike turned back to the car and found Xander standing two paces behind him. "You don't talk to him," he said, jerking a thumb back over is shoulder. "He's not stupid, but he is just a fledge and I don't have time to teach him. So he's unpredictable. You stay clear. Okay?"
What's Orpheus?" Xander asked.
Spike shrugged. "Drug. Not your concern. You hear what I said?" Xander nodded. "Right. Well. Come on, we'll lock this one up in the storeroom." He walked over to the wall and took a key down from a hook. "And you're cooking for him. I don't want any complaints."
He turned back to find that Xander hadn't moved. "Err. What about... uhm... bathroom stuff?" Xander asked.
Spike sighed and closed his eyes as he thought that one through. Bloody inconvenient humans. He looked up at Xander again. "Okay. Good point." He came back to the car and opened the boot, leaning in, searching amid the accumulated rubbish. Finding what he was looking for, he gave a grunt of satisfaction and stood back up, dragging a long length of hefty chain and a leg shackle out of the mess and gathering it over his arm. He tossed the key to Xander. "There's some sacks of cotton waste in there." He nodded towards the store room. "Take it through to the toilet block. I'll bring the watcher." Seeing Xander's expression, he added, "And don't start moaning. You want to keep him, I don't want him stinking the place out, so he gets to sleep next to the facilities. If you don't like sharing, I can always kill him and have him off my hands."
Xander shook his head. "No. No, that's okay. No complaints. I am totally complaint free." He hurried across to the store, fumbling the lock in his eagerness, but eventually getting it open. Spike, meanwhile, went to the old staff rest room and began testing the pipes to find the one most firmly attached to the wall, feeling unreasonably relieved to hear the boy talking again. He'd hire someone to put in a proper fix point tomorrow, if Xander hadn't got bored with having a pet to look after by then.
*****
Spike clipped the shackle around Wesley's ankle and sat back on his haunches. He'd searched the man's pockets and removed anything that could conceivable be used as a lock pick and Xander had made up a thick mattress of cotton waste for him in the corner of the room and now removed the gag. Wesley looked almost comfortable, if you ignored the way he was grimacing as he got the saliva flowing again and tried to rid himself of the taste of cotton. After a few minutes of this, he sat back against the wall. "What... what do you want from me?" he asked nervously.
Spike nodded towards Xander. "The boy asked me not to kill you." He shook his head. "He reckons you might still know stuff. And I'm thinking he's right. So how about you tell me a bit more about the Anashaman and why it didn't work on me?"
Wesley looked up at Xander. "Thank you," he said. "You must know... I... I really don't want to die." Xander shrugged. Wesley looked back at Spike. "Uhm... Yes... Err... Of course, I'll tell you anything. Anything. Although... in truth, and I know this isn't what you want to hear... I really don't know much about it. Just what I said. It's not taught at the academy and I have only been working for the Council for a couple of years. Before that I was at university..." Spike gave a low growl and Wesley flinched. "I... I.... I..." He took a breath, seemed to gather himself together and started again, speaking eagerly. "Errr... It's old and it's been handed down through the Council since before there were records. It takes magic and neutralises it, but it's very focused and has a very short range. So it's not often used in the field. Uhm... I... I never heard of it until recently. So I don't know any secrets." He looked up at Spike, pleadingly. "Please, just tell me what you want to know. I'll help you in any way I can."
Spike smiled. "Why didn't it work on me, then?" he asked.
"Well I think... that is to say... there's a debate, of sorts, in the Watchers Council. Among the more academic watchers... About the nature of vampires..."
Spike frowned, "I know about that. 'M not stupid. I've read the arguments - how you watchers defend your cause with rationalisations about the unnatural nature of demons. Well, we may be unnatural, but we're here. Vampires may be predators, but so are lots of so called natural creatures, so are humans. And not all demons are 'evil' in your definition of the word, or even violent. You watchers just have a need to stand on the moral high ground - you debate and argue and it's all to justify the fact you want to wipe us out. I knew some German scientists and soldiers like that, about 50 years ago."
Xander had taken a seat at the foot of Wesley's makeshift bed, with his knees drawn up in front of him and Spike saw him start at that, his head coming up to stare. But before Spike could catch his eye, he looked away and seemed to concentrate on fiddling with his shoe laces.
Meanwhile Wesley blanched under Spike's sudden vehemence. "Err... Please. I'm sorry. Really, I am. We... we studied it in philosophy. It was an academic debate, like the Angels dancing on the head of a pin." He glanced up at Spike, searching for recognition of the reference and Spike nodded.
"There's a reason for you telling us all this?"
"Yes. yes, there is. Please. My... My father, like most members of the Council believed that vampires are unnatural. That they could only exist through the presence of magic. Evil magic. Wrongly used magic. They argue that the evil has to be destroyed to put the world right again. That when the old ones left the Earth, the act that created modern demons was a misuse of power and needs to be corrected.
"The... the other school of thought, the unpopular one, is that they... uhm... you, are natural. That demons are a natural part of creation. It is a heresy, but we studied it. As an argument it wasn't very strong. It never really held up in debate... "
"Of course it didn't," Spike sneered. "Couldn't have that, could we?"
"But that's my point," Wesley said. "I... I think that the fact that the Anashaman didn't kill you would tend to suggest that the commonly accepted view is, is... wrong." He shrugged, helplessly. "That might be why the Anashaman was never used as a weapon against demons... Or maybe it was, and that's why it was ignored for so long... because it didn't work...? That's all I can suggest. I really don't know. But it is very, very powerful. Every reference agrees on that. And it does neutralise magic, or so I'm told. I... I heard rumours of it being used against a coven in Devon, who were plotting against the Council. But, what I mean is, if you had been magical, it should have worked."
Spike sat back, leaning on his braced arms and relaxed. The implications of this would be food for later thought, but right now... it felt... right. Not that he'd even felt the need for any sort of validation, but, it felt... nice, to know that demon kind were natural. And especially nice to prove the watchers wrong. He let his head fall back between his shoulders and stared up at the stained and dirty ceiling. "Oh you watchers," he said. "'For all thine impious proud-heart sophistries, Unlawful magic, and enticing lies' you end up proving through experiment what you didn't want to know." He laughed with delight at the concept. "Not that it'll change anything." He lifted his head and focussed back on Wesley. "I think you've proved you aren't interested in truth, for all your posturing." He pushed himself back to sit upright and crossed his legs in front of him, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Well, since we've sorted that age old question out, and since you're being so chatty, how about you tell me what you know about the Argentum Veneficus too?"
Wesley looked around wildly, as if searching for inspiration from the dingy walls and toilet cubicles, but before he could splutter out any words, Xander interrupted. "Hang on," he said, indignantly. "Can we rewind a moment? Did I just hear you right? Are you saying that vampires are like... like lions, or something? That it's wrong to kill them? 'Cause, that doesn't sound right to me."
Spike smiled as he turned to look at him. "No, pet. He's not saying that. Vampires hunt humans, so humans have every reason to hunt them back. It's just that the Watchers Council has a crusade, a mission, to rid the Earth of all demons and they justify it by arguing that demons are not natural. Even the peaceful ones."
Xander interrupted again, "There are peaceful demons?"
"'Course there are. Lots of demons are peaceful, some even tend to be 'good'. But most are like humans, neither good nor bad." He raised an eyebrow and Xander made an 'okay, carry on' motion with his hands. Spike nodded. "All this stuff." He waved his hand vaguely around the room. "It doesn't make any difference. It answers the question for the debating society, nothing more. Not going to change anything, except it'll give the minority side some powerful ammunition if they ever hear about it." He grinned. "But the thing I like, is it robs the watchers of their holier than thou justification." Xander's face slowly spread into a grin, too and for a moment Spike thought he was alright again. Then his smile shut down, like the light had been turned off and he went back to staring at his feet and picking at the hem of his jeans.
Spike turned back to the watcher. "The Argentum Veneficus. Talk, or I'll turn you and in a coupla days, you'll be happy to tell me everything you know."
Wesley cringed back "You... you wouldn't."
Looking up Xander said, "He would. He turned Jimmy because he wanted an IT expert."
Wesley turned horrified eyes on Xander. "And you stay with this monster? You condone this by your presence."
Xander went back to concentrating on his shoes and Spike ignored Wesley's last statement. "Yes, I would," he said, with a smug smile and a slight nod. "I'm a very bad man."
Closing his eyes, as if trying to blot out the room, the world, the whole of reality, Wesley buried his face in his still bound hands. After a moment, he looked up again. "I don't know anything," he said, stiffly.
"Oh, come on. Guy like you, stuffed full of book learning? You know what I'm talking about." Spike allowed a low growl to rumble up from the bottom of his chest and was rewarded with a very satisfying flinch.
"Okay, okay. Yes. I know of the book. I may have even seen it. But that was in London. It's not there now."
"So where is it?"
"It... It... was one of a shipment sent out to Mr, umm, to the slayer's watcher."
"In Sunnydale" Spike finished for him. "Bloody Hell. I'm not ready to go back there yet. Bloody, bloody hell!" He pushed himself to his feet and stormed out of the room, before he ended up doing Xander's pet watcher an injury, out of sheer frustration, throwing back over his shoulder, "Come on, mate. We have a shaman to see." He didn't look back, but he heard Xander's footsteps slapping on the concrete behind him as he headed for the door. "And make sure you've got that blasted stone with you."
Footnote - The line Spike quotes: 'For all thine impious proud-heart sophistries, Unlawful magic, and enticing lies' is from the poem Lamia, by John Keats (1795–1821). Oh, and the title comes from the line 'The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, gang aft agley' from Robert Burns' (1759–1796) poem 'To a Mouse'.
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