Bewitched, Chapter 15
Jul. 11th, 2009 04:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thismazI am so late posting this week. Sorry.
Title: Bewitched, Chapter 15
Pairing: S/X. I promise it will get back there... eventually.
Rating: This chapter PG-13
Summary: When Valentine's Day arrives, Dru dips her finger in the brew and gives it a stir.
Word Count: 2,200
Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparrow2000 and DJ, for which, many thanks. Thanks also to Sparrow for her help, conflabbing on plot twists and forms.
Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: here.
Note: Parts of this chapter follows canon fairly closely, so I have drawn on the episode script, courtesy of http://www.twiztv.com/scripts/
Prologue here, with a link to the other chapters, or you can find the whole thing, in reverse order, in tags, or in the correct order, in memories. There's a menu of links on the right hand side of my main journal page.
Chapter 15
Xander had been hiding out in the library, all afternoon. Giles had blackmailed him into helping shelve books, earlier, before the phone call from the police, but now he was lounging back in his chair with his feet up on the table, studiously doing nothing. He figured they had an hour or two, before they could go out hunting for clues as to who had stolen the demon from the museum. They'd have to wait until sundown, for the crime scene to clear.
He looked at his watch. Another half hour and he'd go and find the girls and tell them about it, which would have the incidental benefit of deflecting Willow from the fact that he'd dodged her chemistry tutoring session. In the meantime, he was going to study the skylight and allow his mind to wander. Far away from all things demon related.
His attempt at escapism was interrupted when Willow burst through the door, with Buffy trailing behind her.
"Giles," Willow called. "I've found it. I've found the curse."
Xander sat up sharply, his feet falling to the floor and Giles came out of his office. "What's that?" Giles asked. "What are you saying?"
Buffy held out a computer printout and her voice was flat when she said, "The curse. This is it."
Willow, on the other hand, was beyond excited. "It looks like Ms Calendar was trying to replicate the original curse. To restore Angel's soul."
Speechless, Xander watched as Giles took the printout from Buffy's hand. The curse? The vampire souling curse that Ms Calendar's people used on Angel? This could not be happening. But one glance at Willow's face told him that it was.
"Willow says, it looks like it might have worked," Buffy said with a shrug.
Watching her, Xander tried to figure out what she was thinking behind her mask. It was usually so easy to read Buffy, but the way she was talking, it could have been some boring textbook she'd handed over.
He looked at Willow. She was almost bouncing. It was as if she thought that resouling Angel would make everything right again. Buffy knew better.
Getting to his feet, he walked around the table to join them. "So he killed her... before she could tell anyone about it. What a prince, huh?"
He was watching Buffy's face as he spoke, so he saw her wince, before she turned away and started to pace.
Meanwhile, Giles was rapidly scanning the papers. "Um, well... this certainly points the way." Xander couldn't tell from his tone, whether he was trying to let Willow down easy, or if he actually thought it was worth considering. "But..." Giles paused as he read further. "The ritual itself requires a greater knowledge of the black arts than I can claim."
Willow cut across him. "I've been going through her files and, and researching the black arts, for fun, or educational fun. I may be able to work this."
Giles shook his head. "Willow," he said gravely, "channelling such potent magics through yourself is very dangerous. Even if you could do it, it might open a door that you would not be able to close."
Xander let out a breath of relief. He shouldn't have doubted. Giles knew it was a stupid idea, even if Willow didn't.
Buffy turned around and came back across the room. "I don't want you putting yourself in any danger, Will," she said, laying a hand on Willow's arm.
Giles nodded, but Willow appeared insulted by the suggestion that the spell was beyond her. She shrugged off Buffy's hand and began to argue. Listening to her trying to persuade Giles, while Giles attempted to talk sense into her, Xander hardly recognised her. She was so convinced that she could do it. So convinced that she was right.
Xander watched Buffy's face as they argued back and forth. She interjected, occasionally, seeming to swing one way and then the other, as each of them made a point. It was too much! "So this spell might restore Angel's humanity?" he said, speaking loudly enough to cut through the noise and make them listen. "Well, here's an interesting angle. Who cares? Angel's a killer. Have you forgotten Ms Calander?"
As soon as he finished, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He had no excuse. He'd lost his temper and he, of all people, should have known that that never helped. His objection just led to Buffy admitting that she still had feelings for the monster and turned her dilemma into a tragedy, while the sight of Giles' stricken face sobered Xander immediately. He tried to regain a reasonable tone, but it was too late for that. Within moments the debate had escalated into a full blown argument.
Eventually Buffy yelled at them all to shut up and persuaded Willow to leave with her. Xander watched them go, hoping that Willow would think about it all more carefully, before she went and did anything stupid. He turned to say something to Giles, to apologise, maybe, but Giles retreated to his office and shut the door. The sound of the latch clicking home was like a slap in the face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike sat back and studied the thing. "It's a big rock," he said. "I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big." His lack of enthusiasm bounced right off Angelus's thick hide.
Walking across the room, tossing a crowbar from one hand to the other, Angelus smiled. "Spike, boy," he said, "you never did learn your history."
The patronising 'boy' rankled and he saw Angelus notice. 'Poncy bugger!' Spike thought. At least he'd spent four years up at Oxford. He doubted that Liam had even finished whatever mediaeval equivalent of high school he'd attended in his benighted corner of the Empire, but all he said was, "Let's have a lesson, then."
Angelus started spouting some tedious rubbish: Acathla the demon came forth to swallow the world, blah, blah, blah. Something about a virtuous knight. Why the fuck were they always so virtuous? The truth was, they were the best fighters, and in Spike's experience, the best fighters were rarely virtuous. Angelus probably got the bowdlerised version of the legend; couldn't cope with the unabridged edition.
When he finished his lecture, Angelus gestured to Andrew and handed him the crowbar. Andrew, the last of the minions Spike had inherited from the anointed one, had a star struck expression on his ugly mug as he took it and went over to the sarcophagus. He scratched at the place that looked like the join and, once he'd managed to clear the groove sufficiently to gain purchase, he gave a grunt and jemmied the front away from the case. It crashed to the floor, where it broke into three pieces, revealing the demon Acathla inside, made of stone and skewered by a sword.
Dru appeared to be delighted. "He fills my head," she whispered in an awed tone. "I can't hear anything else."
Maintaining his front of boredom, Spike asked, "Let me guess. Someone plays King Arthur and pulls out the sword?"
"Someone worthy," Angelus corrected.
"Yeah, sure, aint that always the script? Someone worthy pulls out the sword. The demon wakes up, and wackiness ensues."
"And every creature living on this planet will go to Hell," Angelus finished.
Spike shook his head. That just went to show that Angelus really was crazy, as well as stupid. If Spike believed it, he might be worried. Everyone goes to hell? What kind of a plan was that? While Hell on Earth didn't necessarily mean no food would survive, it did rather suggest an increase in the number of competent predators. Why the fuck would anybody willingly do that?
Angelus nodded to Andrew, who went over to the double doors leading to the back salon and threw them open, revealing two more minions with a bound human between them. Angelus must have had it planned. Theatrical git!
The minions dragged the man forward and dropped him on the floor in front of Angelus. "I will drink," Angelus intoned portentously. "The blood will wash in me, over me, and I will be cleansed. I will be worthy to free Acathla." He glanced around at his audience, probably checking that he was still the centre of attention. "Bear witness," he said, "as I ascend. As I become." Allowing his gameface to fall into place, he grabbed the man by the hair and lifted him to his feet, pushing his head to the side to expose his neck. With a roar of triumph, he lunged and began to drink.
Spike set his hands to the wheels of his chair and pushed himself across to the door leading to the kitchen and pantry. Behind him he could hear Angelus being all pseudo-philosophical and he didn't feel like hanging around for more of that. Besides, the sight of Angelus feeding had made him hungry.
As he manoeuved his chair around to get the door open, he happened to glance back and saw that Angelus was approaching the statue, bloody hand outstretched. In spite of himself, he paused to watch.
Angelus reached the statue, grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled. And nothing happened. Nothing at all. Nada, ingen ting, nowt!
Spike felt a laugh bubbling up, "Someone wasn't worthy," he sing-songed, before beating a strategic retreat.
The sound of crashing and breaking, behind him, made him glad he'd done so. It sounded like Angelus was throwing a right paddy. Given his well voiced attitude to the whole plan, Spike had no doubt that if he'd stayed, he'd have taken the brunt of that tantrum and in the face of that, he might not have been able to maintain his charade of being crippled.
Dru came to him a couple of hours later, in his room. She was sporting a new black eye, but appeared happy enough. Not sulking anyway. "He's going to get help," she said, perching herself on the edge of Spike's bed.
"Is he now?" Spike replied, returning to his book.
She laughed. "We're going to have a party," she said. "Cakes and wine and old brandy for the men."
Spike grunted, but he looked up at her when her voice changed. "He's crazy, Spike," she whispered. Her face had gone blank. That was never a good sign. "He wants to bring the old ones back and they don't like us. Half breeds and animals. Weak and fit for nothing. I don't want to be there, Spike."
Putting his book aside, Spike leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Thought you wanted to end the world."
"Oh yes, it'll be fun. Angelus says we're going to make history."
But there was a quaver in her voice and Spike recognised its origin. "What do you see, pet," he asked carefully, "when you look at the mists?"
Dru cocked her head on one side. "I'm a princess," she replied. "It's warm at night and the imps are there to bring me pretties and his horns..." She paused and a sly smile twisted her lips. "...both kinds. They're long and hard and soft for me."
Didn't sound too bad, so far. Leastways Dru sounded like she was looking forward to getting her fill. "This is what Acathla brings us?" he asked.
A shiver ran through her and her eyes went wide. "Oh Spike. It's dark and burning. I don't like it there."
That was not so promising. "Where am I, pet? Am I there with you?"
"You're there and you're here and you're with me, but your boy calls you."
"My boy?" Something tugged at Spike's memory, but he couldn't pull it in.
"No, he's gone. You can't see him anymore. And we're gone too." She shook her head and her hair came free of it's loose clasps, falling forward, but Spike could still see her eyes and the fear in them.
He wheeled himself closer, intending to prod her for more, when Angelus opened the door and came in. "I need a message delivered," he said. "Dru, you can still play your little mind games, can't you? Remember Vienna? I want you to do it again."
Dru looked at him and slowly a smile began to form, lighting up her face. "I remember, remember, the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. We always had a bonfire on the commons. And they all came to it. Pretty maids all in a row."
Angelus turned to Spike. "What the fuck is she on about?"
Spike shrugged. "Don't know. You set her off. You or that lump of stone out there. What happened in Vienna? Did you throw someone on a bonfire?"
Angelus smiled. "Before you were made, boy," he said. "So she knows what we're doing then? Good."
"Yeah, but I don't. What the fuck do you want of her, now?"
Jumping to her feet, Dru glided over to Angelus, ignoring Spike. "Of course I know, silly. I'm here aren't I? I can hear you."
Angelus gave a soft snort. "Sometimes I wonder about that." He turned to the door. "Margaret!" he bellowed. "Get in here and listen to your mistress, she has a message for you to deliver."
Next Chapter
Title: Bewitched, Chapter 15
Pairing: S/X. I promise it will get back there... eventually.
Rating: This chapter PG-13
Summary: When Valentine's Day arrives, Dru dips her finger in the brew and gives it a stir.
Word Count: 2,200
Betaed by
sparrow2000 and DJ, for which, many thanks. Thanks also to Sparrow for her help, conflabbing on plot twists and forms.Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: here.
Note: Parts of this chapter follows canon fairly closely, so I have drawn on the episode script, courtesy of http://www.twiztv.com/scripts/
Prologue here, with a link to the other chapters, or you can find the whole thing, in reverse order, in tags, or in the correct order, in memories. There's a menu of links on the right hand side of my main journal page.
Chapter 15
Xander had been hiding out in the library, all afternoon. Giles had blackmailed him into helping shelve books, earlier, before the phone call from the police, but now he was lounging back in his chair with his feet up on the table, studiously doing nothing. He figured they had an hour or two, before they could go out hunting for clues as to who had stolen the demon from the museum. They'd have to wait until sundown, for the crime scene to clear.
He looked at his watch. Another half hour and he'd go and find the girls and tell them about it, which would have the incidental benefit of deflecting Willow from the fact that he'd dodged her chemistry tutoring session. In the meantime, he was going to study the skylight and allow his mind to wander. Far away from all things demon related.
His attempt at escapism was interrupted when Willow burst through the door, with Buffy trailing behind her.
"Giles," Willow called. "I've found it. I've found the curse."
Xander sat up sharply, his feet falling to the floor and Giles came out of his office. "What's that?" Giles asked. "What are you saying?"
Buffy held out a computer printout and her voice was flat when she said, "The curse. This is it."
Willow, on the other hand, was beyond excited. "It looks like Ms Calendar was trying to replicate the original curse. To restore Angel's soul."
Speechless, Xander watched as Giles took the printout from Buffy's hand. The curse? The vampire souling curse that Ms Calendar's people used on Angel? This could not be happening. But one glance at Willow's face told him that it was.
"Willow says, it looks like it might have worked," Buffy said with a shrug.
Watching her, Xander tried to figure out what she was thinking behind her mask. It was usually so easy to read Buffy, but the way she was talking, it could have been some boring textbook she'd handed over.
He looked at Willow. She was almost bouncing. It was as if she thought that resouling Angel would make everything right again. Buffy knew better.
Getting to his feet, he walked around the table to join them. "So he killed her... before she could tell anyone about it. What a prince, huh?"
He was watching Buffy's face as he spoke, so he saw her wince, before she turned away and started to pace.
Meanwhile, Giles was rapidly scanning the papers. "Um, well... this certainly points the way." Xander couldn't tell from his tone, whether he was trying to let Willow down easy, or if he actually thought it was worth considering. "But..." Giles paused as he read further. "The ritual itself requires a greater knowledge of the black arts than I can claim."
Willow cut across him. "I've been going through her files and, and researching the black arts, for fun, or educational fun. I may be able to work this."
Giles shook his head. "Willow," he said gravely, "channelling such potent magics through yourself is very dangerous. Even if you could do it, it might open a door that you would not be able to close."
Xander let out a breath of relief. He shouldn't have doubted. Giles knew it was a stupid idea, even if Willow didn't.
Buffy turned around and came back across the room. "I don't want you putting yourself in any danger, Will," she said, laying a hand on Willow's arm.
Giles nodded, but Willow appeared insulted by the suggestion that the spell was beyond her. She shrugged off Buffy's hand and began to argue. Listening to her trying to persuade Giles, while Giles attempted to talk sense into her, Xander hardly recognised her. She was so convinced that she could do it. So convinced that she was right.
Xander watched Buffy's face as they argued back and forth. She interjected, occasionally, seeming to swing one way and then the other, as each of them made a point. It was too much! "So this spell might restore Angel's humanity?" he said, speaking loudly enough to cut through the noise and make them listen. "Well, here's an interesting angle. Who cares? Angel's a killer. Have you forgotten Ms Calander?"
As soon as he finished, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He had no excuse. He'd lost his temper and he, of all people, should have known that that never helped. His objection just led to Buffy admitting that she still had feelings for the monster and turned her dilemma into a tragedy, while the sight of Giles' stricken face sobered Xander immediately. He tried to regain a reasonable tone, but it was too late for that. Within moments the debate had escalated into a full blown argument.
Eventually Buffy yelled at them all to shut up and persuaded Willow to leave with her. Xander watched them go, hoping that Willow would think about it all more carefully, before she went and did anything stupid. He turned to say something to Giles, to apologise, maybe, but Giles retreated to his office and shut the door. The sound of the latch clicking home was like a slap in the face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike sat back and studied the thing. "It's a big rock," he said. "I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big." His lack of enthusiasm bounced right off Angelus's thick hide.
Walking across the room, tossing a crowbar from one hand to the other, Angelus smiled. "Spike, boy," he said, "you never did learn your history."
The patronising 'boy' rankled and he saw Angelus notice. 'Poncy bugger!' Spike thought. At least he'd spent four years up at Oxford. He doubted that Liam had even finished whatever mediaeval equivalent of high school he'd attended in his benighted corner of the Empire, but all he said was, "Let's have a lesson, then."
Angelus started spouting some tedious rubbish: Acathla the demon came forth to swallow the world, blah, blah, blah. Something about a virtuous knight. Why the fuck were they always so virtuous? The truth was, they were the best fighters, and in Spike's experience, the best fighters were rarely virtuous. Angelus probably got the bowdlerised version of the legend; couldn't cope with the unabridged edition.
When he finished his lecture, Angelus gestured to Andrew and handed him the crowbar. Andrew, the last of the minions Spike had inherited from the anointed one, had a star struck expression on his ugly mug as he took it and went over to the sarcophagus. He scratched at the place that looked like the join and, once he'd managed to clear the groove sufficiently to gain purchase, he gave a grunt and jemmied the front away from the case. It crashed to the floor, where it broke into three pieces, revealing the demon Acathla inside, made of stone and skewered by a sword.
Dru appeared to be delighted. "He fills my head," she whispered in an awed tone. "I can't hear anything else."
Maintaining his front of boredom, Spike asked, "Let me guess. Someone plays King Arthur and pulls out the sword?"
"Someone worthy," Angelus corrected.
"Yeah, sure, aint that always the script? Someone worthy pulls out the sword. The demon wakes up, and wackiness ensues."
"And every creature living on this planet will go to Hell," Angelus finished.
Spike shook his head. That just went to show that Angelus really was crazy, as well as stupid. If Spike believed it, he might be worried. Everyone goes to hell? What kind of a plan was that? While Hell on Earth didn't necessarily mean no food would survive, it did rather suggest an increase in the number of competent predators. Why the fuck would anybody willingly do that?
Angelus nodded to Andrew, who went over to the double doors leading to the back salon and threw them open, revealing two more minions with a bound human between them. Angelus must have had it planned. Theatrical git!
The minions dragged the man forward and dropped him on the floor in front of Angelus. "I will drink," Angelus intoned portentously. "The blood will wash in me, over me, and I will be cleansed. I will be worthy to free Acathla." He glanced around at his audience, probably checking that he was still the centre of attention. "Bear witness," he said, "as I ascend. As I become." Allowing his gameface to fall into place, he grabbed the man by the hair and lifted him to his feet, pushing his head to the side to expose his neck. With a roar of triumph, he lunged and began to drink.
Spike set his hands to the wheels of his chair and pushed himself across to the door leading to the kitchen and pantry. Behind him he could hear Angelus being all pseudo-philosophical and he didn't feel like hanging around for more of that. Besides, the sight of Angelus feeding had made him hungry.
As he manoeuved his chair around to get the door open, he happened to glance back and saw that Angelus was approaching the statue, bloody hand outstretched. In spite of himself, he paused to watch.
Angelus reached the statue, grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled. And nothing happened. Nothing at all. Nada, ingen ting, nowt!
Spike felt a laugh bubbling up, "Someone wasn't worthy," he sing-songed, before beating a strategic retreat.
The sound of crashing and breaking, behind him, made him glad he'd done so. It sounded like Angelus was throwing a right paddy. Given his well voiced attitude to the whole plan, Spike had no doubt that if he'd stayed, he'd have taken the brunt of that tantrum and in the face of that, he might not have been able to maintain his charade of being crippled.
Dru came to him a couple of hours later, in his room. She was sporting a new black eye, but appeared happy enough. Not sulking anyway. "He's going to get help," she said, perching herself on the edge of Spike's bed.
"Is he now?" Spike replied, returning to his book.
She laughed. "We're going to have a party," she said. "Cakes and wine and old brandy for the men."
Spike grunted, but he looked up at her when her voice changed. "He's crazy, Spike," she whispered. Her face had gone blank. That was never a good sign. "He wants to bring the old ones back and they don't like us. Half breeds and animals. Weak and fit for nothing. I don't want to be there, Spike."
Putting his book aside, Spike leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Thought you wanted to end the world."
"Oh yes, it'll be fun. Angelus says we're going to make history."
But there was a quaver in her voice and Spike recognised its origin. "What do you see, pet," he asked carefully, "when you look at the mists?"
Dru cocked her head on one side. "I'm a princess," she replied. "It's warm at night and the imps are there to bring me pretties and his horns..." She paused and a sly smile twisted her lips. "...both kinds. They're long and hard and soft for me."
Didn't sound too bad, so far. Leastways Dru sounded like she was looking forward to getting her fill. "This is what Acathla brings us?" he asked.
A shiver ran through her and her eyes went wide. "Oh Spike. It's dark and burning. I don't like it there."
That was not so promising. "Where am I, pet? Am I there with you?"
"You're there and you're here and you're with me, but your boy calls you."
"My boy?" Something tugged at Spike's memory, but he couldn't pull it in.
"No, he's gone. You can't see him anymore. And we're gone too." She shook her head and her hair came free of it's loose clasps, falling forward, but Spike could still see her eyes and the fear in them.
He wheeled himself closer, intending to prod her for more, when Angelus opened the door and came in. "I need a message delivered," he said. "Dru, you can still play your little mind games, can't you? Remember Vienna? I want you to do it again."
Dru looked at him and slowly a smile began to form, lighting up her face. "I remember, remember, the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. We always had a bonfire on the commons. And they all came to it. Pretty maids all in a row."
Angelus turned to Spike. "What the fuck is she on about?"
Spike shrugged. "Don't know. You set her off. You or that lump of stone out there. What happened in Vienna? Did you throw someone on a bonfire?"
Angelus smiled. "Before you were made, boy," he said. "So she knows what we're doing then? Good."
"Yeah, but I don't. What the fuck do you want of her, now?"
Jumping to her feet, Dru glided over to Angelus, ignoring Spike. "Of course I know, silly. I'm here aren't I? I can hear you."
Angelus gave a soft snort. "Sometimes I wonder about that." He turned to the door. "Margaret!" he bellowed. "Get in here and listen to your mistress, she has a message for you to deliver."
Next Chapter
