|
|
|
|||
|
||||
|
|
for Sofy |
Part 115 |
|
|
|
|||||||||||||
|
|
|
The house was eerily silent, dimly lit by a few candles, the conventional energy supplies having either failed or been disabled, but beneath the tranquil surface it thrummed with the power that Spike had always associated with Patrick. Barely a trickle as they pushed open the unlocked front door, increasing in strength and purity with every step they took. “You feel it?” Spike asked. Xander nodded, certainly feeling the eerie force, body trembling as the fortifying pulses rushed through him. He tapped at Spike’s arm, indicating he should loosen his grip around Xander’s waist. “I can do this.” “Xander, you couldn’t even stand by yourself when we were outside.” “I know, I know. But…” He eased Spike away and tried supporting himself. He could. Spike’s scowling face earned a tentative smile. “You’re close by. I’m okay.” Spike reached out a hand and Xander took it; the vampire relaxed a little. Just a little. Looking around, they found Hamish waiting at the foot of the stairs. “He knows, Xander. He’s right.” “You think?” “Yeah.” Tightening his grip on Xander’s hand, Spike morphed into his demon visage and led him to the stairs; they climbed slowly and guardedly behind the wolfhound, and when they reached the landing Spike unconsciously turned in the direction of the attic access. “Where are we going?” Xander asked with a frown as they came to a halt at the wall. Spike pressed the appropriate wooden panel and it sprang open. “You knew that was there?” “I’ve…” Two Christmas’ ago, an investigative foray. Memories. Spike leant against the wall, eyes closed, as fragments crashed into place. “I’ve been here before.” “When… How…” “This is my place,” he gasped, all trace of the mockney accent lost. “You’ve found a little of the belonging, William.” “Spike?” Xander ventured hesitantly, then: “William?” “I miss the sunshine,” Spike whispered mournfully. “I know, my precious.” “Spike, don’t do this to me, come back to me.” Spike immediately responded to the anxious tones and his eyes snapped open; he growled in frustration and disappointment as the scene in his head faded to nothing, and took Xander’s hand once more. “C’mon.” Xander let himself be led up the narrow stairs, hating the darkness on both his own and Spike’s behalf, feeling incredibly clumsy and trying his best not to make a noise by falling up the steps. They cautiously pushed open the door and entered the attic, Spike’s demon receding as he was bombarded with more slivers of memory, Xander open-mouthed with astonishment at the scene before him, dizzy with his own fleeting remembrances. A few minutes to recover
and they walked further into the room, rotating
as they went, trying to take in as much of their setting as possible. It was like a piece of history, a stately
hall taken out of time and place and far larger than the size of the house
could possibly allow; it looked and smelled uncannily authentic, from the oak
panels and wall hangings to the large chairs – thrones? – to the massive iron
props that supported ancient standards.
Spike put out a hand to touch a standard, snatching it back when he felt
the air ripple around him. Neither
frightened nor foolish, Spike simply knew when to leave well alone and he
turned his attention to the central area, to Xander. Xander was studying the symbols etched into the ancient boards of the
floor, taking care not to step into or onto any part of the elaborate circular
design, and as he slowly skirted the outline, he found himself drawn to a
certain area, one carved spiral amongst many.
He longed for what he sensed was just beyond his reach. Sun,
wind, scent, sea. He longed to become a measure of the whole. Belonging. Irresistible.
Sun, wind, scent, sea. Sun, wind, scent, sea, tides, William. A sourceless breeze whirled around his weary
body and he became unable, unwilling,
to resist the pull. “Go ahead,” came from the doorway.
“It’s quite safe.” With a possessive snarl Spike snatched Xander back from where he teetered
on the edge of the carved boundary. “Pádraig,” the vampire acknowledged as he checked Xander over, not taking
as much as a glance in the man’s direction. “What do you think?” the soft voice enquired. “Don’t appear to be thinking much at all,” Xander murmured, twisting in
Spike’s arms to gaze longingly into the circle.
“What is this place? And
what…what’s in…there?” “Better you remember for yourself, Alex.” “You want to tell us what’s going on?” Spike demanded, fighting to keep his demonic appearance under wraps. “Why are we here?” “Being here is your choice.” “It didn’t feel like it.” “Then, perhaps, it’s your…destiny.” “Destiny?” Xander repeated, barely audible. “Destiny… It’s a part…” Sun, wind, scent, sea. Sun,
wind, scent, sea, tides, William. The energy drained from Xander and Spike was left holding him up yet again. “Love?” Xander was asleep. Upright, head on Spike’s shoulder, and sound asleep. Spike looked to Patrick, witnessed the man staggering toward the row of chairs, slumping into the largest; Hamish was already there, sitting propped up against the solid wooden framing, and Patrick’s hand fell naturally onto his head, as if it was a movement that had been repeated countless times. A last shudder from Patrick and Spike may as well have been staring at a dead body. “I guessed. That it was somehow about you. Why Xander’s been so tired.” “It’s because…” the grey-tinged lips barely moved. “He’s living on borrowed time.” Shocking, but no shock. “And he’s been borrowing it from you? Since he was attacked, that’s my guess.” No answer as Patrick rested. “Anyone ever tell you how bloody irritating the strong, silent types are?” A faint smile stirred Patrick’s features. “Yeah, thought so.” Seconds later the area above the carving briefly flashed a brilliant white before pulsing with energy; both Xander and Patrick drew sharp breaths and jolted to full wakefulness, as Spike tingled and absorbed the excess power. “What…? Wil…” Xander shook his head and blinked a few times before staring at his partner. “Spike,” he confirmed for himself. “Spike.” “Yes, love, Spike. And you’ve come to just in time to see Spike rip Patrick’s head off if he doesn’t supply a few answers.” The expected reprimand from Xander never arrived so Spike continued. “First up, Patrick, and in words of one syllable if you don’t mind… What are you?” Patrick nodded thoughtfully as he carefully chose his phrasing, and when he spoke his words were considered. “At this moment…I present myself as an object of intervention.” “No. That’s a – a purpose, not what you are.” “Listen, Spike,” Xander urged. Patrick smiled at Xander, and there it was, horribly fresh, the twinge in Xander‘s heart that reminded him of everything he seemed likely to lose. “There is a higher power involved here, as you must be aware,” Patrick continued. “The storms, the lightning.” “Yes.” Patrick shook his head and sighed. “This is so rushed, it isn’t the way I wanted…” “Just get on with it,” Spike snapped. “You feel it?” “That we’re running out of time, yes, yes, I do, so give us the terms of battle.” “This is no battleground, Spike. At least…it doesn’t have to be, not for us.” “Who then?” “Why are we running out of time?” Xander asked, “I don’t feel anything, why…” Spike hushed Xander and glared at Patrick. “Alex. Xander. I stand between you, and an entity which would claim you for its own.” Spike’s reaction was automatic, protectively and pointlessly shoving Xander behind him; Xander tutted and patted Spike’s arm reassuringly as he re-took his place alongside him. “What kind of entity? Beyond being the corny storm-bringer.” “One that demands your unequivocal allegiance.” “What kind of allegiance?” Patrick hesitated, gazing at Xander with unchecked concern. He drew breath to speak, letting the moment go, before trying for a second time and dropping a bombshell. “Familial.” Xander. Blinked. “Fami… Family? This entity is family?” “Your grandfather.” “My – my - my…!” Xander stammered. “Grandfather? I can’t… I don’t… I… Fucking hell!” Patrick chuckled at that last explosion. “If I were you, I think that would be my reaction.” “This is who’s behind what happened in Sunnydale?” Spike asked suspiciously. “Yes.” “So… A higher power. We’re talking about…a god?” “It can’t be,” Xander countered, unable to prevent the snort of sceptical laughter that escaped. “Not family. No, this is… Tell him, Pat, this is…” “We’re talking about a god,” Patrick apologised to an astonished Xander. “He… My grandfather is… No. No, no, no.” Xander backed away, fiercely shaking his head. “Not me, this doesn’t happen to me. I’m normal guy, I like normal guy, I…” “Have no choice, not over this.” “There’s always a choice, I have friends who taught me that. There is always a choice.” “About where to place your allegiance, yes, no dispute there, but you must acknowledge your grandfather first.” “Why?” “Because you must face him, and accept him. Once you accept him he has to take any decision you make seriously, he can’t dismiss it as…as…unknowing; only that will stop his pursuit of you. You must face him.” “Okay…” As Xander tried his very best to opt for denial, Spike went for clarification. “No choice but to acknowledge this god as Xander’s kin, but afterwards there is a choice?” “Yes.” “Which of my parents?” Xander interrupted. “Which of them did this to me? Had to be my dad, yeah? That why he was such a mean bastard, because he – he was… I don’t know, trying to be something he wasn’t, being forced to live as a human? Was that it?” “I’ll explain after…” “After I’ve accepted something that is…unacceptable! It’s unacceptable. I can’t…” Spike caught Xander’s arm just as the human was making a bolt for the door, tugging him into an embrace that felt more like imprisonment. Xander hated it, and needed it, shaking, grasping, pressing himself as close as possible to the vampire’s body and trusting Spike to sort this out and show him the way because his weary brain was informing him in no uncertain terms that it simply wasn’t equipped to deal with this kind of nonsensical revelation. Partner captured, Spike looked back to Patrick for an answer to his last question. “Once, not so long ago,” Patrick began quietly, “I imagined we’d get through this without incident. Further incident,” he smiled wryly. “I would offer you the life you’ve always wanted – both of you – and we would take this step with a minimum of distress.” “What do you mean, you’d offer? On Granddad’s behalf?” Spike asked. “No. As I said, I am an object of intervention. More: I am the alternate choice.” “That’s grand. The more you explain, the less clear it becomes.” “I know, I’m sorry.” “This ‘not so long ago’. What screwed it up? Was it this god…waking up or something?” “His attention was drawn to Xander, to both of you, as I grew weaker and less able to protect you. That shouldn’t have mattered but…” Spike waited impatiently, even Xander turned to look at his friend with trepidation. “But?” Spike verbally nudged. “Xander made one terrible mistake.” Xander took a sharp breath. “What did I do?” “You made an offering to him.” “No, I wouldn’t have known…” “A fire sacrifice. A human.” “I wouldn’t…” With a sickening jolt to his stomach Xander remembered and shuddered in Spike’s embrace. “Oh, God.” “Xander?” Spike heard Xander swallow dryly before their eyes met, curious blue and frightened brown. “Riley. I burned Riley. And there were words in my head, I didn’t recognise them, but I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t…” “It’s okay, love, you don’t have to remind me of how you are around fire.” “No-one blames you,” Patrick assured. “It was beyond your control.” “It shouldn’t have been! But…but…inside me, there’s…” “Yes, I know. He is the darkness within you, Xander. He’s always been there. It says a great deal about how good, how strong a person you are that you were able to contain him. He has exploited my waning ability to protect you, he has exploited your anger over what happened to Spike.” “You’ve fought him for Xander,” Spike observed thoughtfully. “I’ve fought him, full stop. I’ve fought for my humanity.” Patrick gestured to the circle. “I have to exploit his power, it’s the only way to keep us safe, keep us going, but he gets nothing, he takes nothing, not if I can help it.” Xander and Spike tensed as the door was shoved open, relaxing as a tearful Jake rushed in and to them, squeezing past Spike to throw his arms around Xander, hugging hard. “You’re here. I thought… Doesn’t matter what I thought, you’re here.” He kissed Xander’s cheek and reached out to grasp Spike’s hand. “Have you decided? You’re going to be with us, yes?” “I – I don’t know, I haven’t taken this in yet, I don’t…” “Trust us, please. Please. You won’t regret it, I promise.” “We need to know more,” Spike explained. “Patrick…” “There isn’t time!” “Why?” “Today. This is the last day, the last chance.” “You’re English!” Xander suddenly exclaimed. “What the hell happened there?” “I’ll explain afterwards, after…” “Jake!” At Patrick’s shout, Jake let go of Xander and hurried to the row of chairs, sitting furthest right and leaning forward, cradling his head in his hands. Xander took a step to follow but found himself, once again, trapped by Spike. “There are two offers on the table,” Spike clarified. “One, from Granddad, who… What’s his name?” “It’s…unwise to speak it,” Patrick warned. “Even a misplaced thought can bring about his intervention and… You’ve seen his power, you know what he’s like. Big on action, little on wisdom,” Patrick finished in a disparaging mutter. “But we’re protected here.” “To a degree.” “Bloody wonderful,” Spike groused. “Right. Two offers, Granddad’s and yours. Why should we pick you?” “Because we belong together. All of us. You’ve both felt it.” “Too simple.” “Tell them,” Jake pleaded, words muffled by his hands. “What does Jay want me to know?” Xander asked as he struggled free of Spike’s hold and hurried across to his friend. Crouching beside Jake he gently rubbed his arm. “You tell me.” “I…” Jake peered out and shot a look at Patrick. “Let Patrick. Or… No.” Jake reluctantly pushed Xander away. “Get on with it, Paddy. Cut to the chase, eh?” “Cut to the chase,” Patrick repeated to himself. “Very well.” Jake heaved a sigh of relief. “Join us,” Patrick said to no-one in particular, and the door opened again as Beth entered, carrying the book she’d retrieved from Xander’s Mercedes, followed by Rafe and Moira. In silence they smiled their greetings at Xander and Spike, before Beth and Rafe took seats to the left of Patrick’s, Moira sitting on his right. Two empty chairs; Xander and Spike exchanged a glance. “I don’t care where we fit in, it’s how,” Spike said as his attention shot back to Patrick. “I care,” Xander corrected. “Both. All.” Beat. “Pat?” “The choice, Xander,” Jake urged, “make the choice.” As Patrick gathered his thoughts there was a moment brim full of expectation and not a little dread. As they waited, Xander returned to Spike; their fingers wound together. Eventually Patrick rose and took a step forward. “I know you’re confused and frustrated, and there are so many questions you need answers to, but I can’t give them to you until you make your choice.” “Blindly? That isn’t fair, how can we…” “Quiet, pet, let’s hear.” “I want to know what our connection is, ‘cause, yes, there is one, but…” “I won’t tell you,” Patrick said firmly. “Not yet. You make your choice based on what you know of me, of us, at this moment in time.” “And…” Xander wavered before asking one enormous question. “Have you been honest? Forget what you couldn’t tell me, just…the rest. Have you been honest? Is the person I’ve got to know really you?” “Yes,” Patrick answered without pause, enormous question, effortless answer. Xander found himself speechless; he nodded, and Patrick carried on. “It’s as basic as this: Xander, if you place your allegiance with your grandfather you will receive the full extent of his power, to use as you see fit. If your allegiance is to me, we’ll carry on much as we have in the past. In either case you’ll be stronger, healthier, you’ll live longer.” Xander fingers clenched around Spike’s. “When you say longer?” “You will remain at your prime, indefinitely. You’ll be impervious to all but the gods.” After the expected moment of complete and utter disbelief, Xander started to giggle. He shook his head, turned away, the giggles broke into laughter. He leant on a strangely silent Spike and laughed himself out while the vampire leant back and enjoyed this wholly Xander reaction. “’Kay,” Xander said at last, gulping air and wiping his eyes. “’Kay, back on the planet.” He turned to face the family. “This isn’t happening, right? No, yeah, I mean…” He placed a hand on his chest, fingers spread. “Normal. Guy.” “You have an extraordinary imagination, Xander. Time to use it.” Xander laughed again, turning and walking away, turning back, and now the tears in his eyes were other than those of mirth. He shook his head. “This is… What if…what if I don’t want either? If I want the life I have, no freaky connections?” “That’s entirely up to you, you can carry on as you are.” “Pádraig!” Jake sprang to his feet. “Tell him the truth!” That successfully knocked any residual laughter out of Xander. “You’re lying to me?” “I’m trying not to influence you.” “Then let me influence him.” “No, John…” “Xander… If you don’t join us you’ll die. Not a normal death, not in sixty years time. Within the next year, and it will be as bad as anything you or Spike have experienced up until now.” “Don’t frighten him,” Beth softly chided. “But it is frightening, and he should know.” Jake’s voice dropped as he addressed Xander. “I’m so sorry.” “No, tell me.” “John…” “You’ve been here before, Xander, on this plain, many times.” “I, umm… Think we kinda guessed that.” Xander looked at Spike, recalling an earlier conversation. “Theories that are too bizarre to put into words?” “Yeah,” Spike agreed. “They’d be the ones.” “You’re following a pattern, and your life – your first life, real life – is reflected here, the events, the difficulties in it, magnified by time, made into insufferable cruelties by Him. We’ve found you so many times but we’ve never got this far before, you’re only here now because of Spike, because of what he is, because his blood saved you. You should have died in hospital, after that attack. Whenever we’ve tried to help you, or protect you, we’ve made the trauma worse, but Spike, the – the…unknown, the misjudged, he could do it. Before now we’ve never seen you survive past that event, however it’s been played out, that’s when you die.” “Then surely that means the threat’s over, if I lived through that.” “It only means… There’s worse to come.” Arms wrapped tightly about himself as he tried to stop himself shaking, Jake took a few steps toward Xander. “Tonight is the anniversary of when we died.” Jake pressed on, overriding Xander’s attempt to question about the ‘we’. “You have to decide whether to stay with us and it has to be tonight. Please don’t leave us. I know how selfish it is, but I can’t do this again, I can’t… I can’t watch you die again. Please Xander.” “Stop this,” Patrick finally told him. “You won’t use emotional blackmail to get what you want.” “What I want! If we can’t have Xander then what I want is the peace you guaranteed me centuries ago.” “We’ll discuss thi…” “I’m scared that you won’t let me go. That you won’t let me die if Xander dies.” “I can’t lose you too,” Patrick whispered painfully. “No? Well, I’m taking the choice away from you.” “It’s not possible.” Jake trotted the last few steps to Spike before reverently taking up his hand. “You promised.” “Yeah, I promised. Xander…Xander dies and we go together.” “Still not possible.” “But I’d give it a bloody good go,” Spike defiantly assured Patrick. “Wait a minute,” Xander protested, “what is this? What promise?” Jake stared into Spike’s face, reaching up to touch his brow with a single fingertip; the demon features rippled beneath the surface. “He promised me peace.” “You mean… You said you’d kill him? Spike…!” “You had to be there, love.” “I want life or death.” “But…Jay…you are alive.” Jake glanced at Xander then Patrick, obviously expecting him to explain, before resting his brow on Spike’s shoulder and falling still. Xander followed the glance to Patrick, studying the man for a while before walking in his direction, studying him hard. “You’re not alive?” “To you, yes. To ourselves…” “Pádraig keeps us alive,” Beth interrupted, saving her husband the explanation. “Functioning. But the life force isn’t of this plain.” “That energy I feel, coming from…” Spike tilted his head toward the carved circle. Beth gave a single nod in acknowledgment. “He’s able to draw on it, and he shares it amongst us to give us this façade of life, to keep us with him.” Xander gazed along the row of faces. “All of you?” “Myself, Jake, Moira. In the past we have each had our own reserves, able to survive for a while without the direct link, but at this moment those reserves are exhausted, and we are as dependent on His power as Pádraig. Rafe, though, is still like you,” Beth carefully avoided the topic of Xander’s dependency on the power, not wishing to enter into a debate on whether survival was precisely the same as life. “And Spike…” She smiled fondly at the vampire. “…is like himself.” “This choice I have. What happens to you all, what difference do I make to you?” “That can’t be your consideration,” Patrick told him resolutely. “This is about what you want.” “But it’s obviously all tied together. If I turn you down, do you… Can you die if you don’t live? What happens to you if I say no?” “We eventually lose you. The cycle begins again. Our search for you begins again, and perhaps, next time…” “Xander, we should talk,” Spike said as he gently detached Jake. “Privately.” Xander took a last look along the faces before him, seeing affection and hope and exhaustion. Fear. Seeing past every improbable thing he’d been handed so far and just seeing his friends, people he loved. Then he nodded, taking Spike’s offered hand as he passed by, letting himself be pulled to the stairs, down into the hallway, where he immediately grabbed Spike to him and hugged him with desperate ferocity. “What do I do? Spike, I can’t believe…” “Shh-shh-shh.” “I feel like I don’t have time to think. I just know… This can’t be all the time we have. If I’m gonna die…” “Xander, now we
understand what’s happening we can find help, go to “But…” Xander pulled back and looked at Spike. “Isn’t this what you want? What He's offering?” “Yeah,” Spike nodded, not even about to pretend otherwise, “the ‘stronger, healthier, live longer’. Forever with you – this you – that’s what I want. But at the cost of your peace of mind? No better than forcing turning on you.” “What if I’m not this me afterwards? What if this changes me? What if… Oh, God, this isn’t real, this can’t be real.” “Pretty sure it is.” “It would make me…make me… Special. I’m not special, not that way, not the hugely huge and unbelievably special way.” “You’ve always been special.” “But not that way. That way is for when…when Hell freezes over.” Spike suddenly went rigid, listening hard. “You hear that?” “What?” Xander anxiously gasped. “The sound of hell freezing over.” “Spike!” “Start from scratch, shall we? Do you trust Patrick?” “I don’t know, I don’t even know what he is. They are. Jake said centuries.” “Concentrate on Patrick.” “What do you think he is?” Spike shrugged. “One of this god’s minions maybe. Your caretaker, certainly. Discovered how to tap into the old man’s power and made himself a life with it. He talked about his own humanity, but… I d’know, he might have started out as some kind of demon…” “And I’m supposed to trust him?” “Do you though? You’ve relied on your instincts for years. What do your instincts tell you right now? Do you trust him?” Xander stopped panicking long enough to think, provoking the emotional response they’d both anticipated. “I do.” “And how do you feel about your grandfather?” “My grandfather. He’s a god, for Christ’s sake! How am I supposed to feel? Spike… There must be some mistake, this can’t be for me, this is…” “Go with it, love.” “That’s the choice I don’t have, isn’t it?” Spike nodded, and Xander appreciated the sympathy on his face. “’Kay. My grandfather. The god. Fucking hell.” Xander paused, sighed, rested linked hands heavily on top of his head to help prevent his brain exploding. “If I’m completely honest… The first thing – almost the first thing – that shot through my head when Pat told me about inheriting the power? That I shouldn’t hesitate to take it, that maybe I’d be able to keep you – all of us – safe at last.” “That’s if my safety mattered to you at all,” Spike responded grimly. “It’ll always matter.” “This you thinks so, but under his influence…?” “I know how I feel. But, yeah, I… The me of now, yeah.” Spike said nothing. “Next thought… The selfish one,” Xander admitted with an embarrassed smile. “That perhaps this was my chance to be the one in the spotlight. That I was a part of the slayer escapades for a reason after all. That, even if this is only happening now, I wasn’t meant to be so ordinary in the middle of the extraordinary. Maybe now I can do some good. My way out of Zeppo-land.” “You’ve always been extraordinary.” “Stop saying that stuff, I’m not special, not extraordinary, not this me.” “Yes, you are. Xander… You could have sold your soul for power a thousand times, you could have found a way to play the game at a higher or baser level, but you clung to normality and your humanity and you gave them hope – the slayer, witch, watcher – you gave us all hope. Because, through it all, you were the one who was…real. Then, now, when we save the world, we save it for you. What you represent. That’s a hell of a power you have there.” “Wait. You’re saying… Humanity. Even now, humanity. That’s my deal. Even if it means I die?” “How do you feel about your grandfather?” Xander thought, past the power, past the altruistic visions. He thought of where the god had led him. He thought about the lure of fire. The beauty. The purity. The destruction. The stench. He thought of burning Riley Finn. Betraying his true self. Bad dreams and self-disgust at what he’d been capable of because… It was as evil an experience as any he’d fought in his life. “Think I’ll ever have to sacrifice someone to Angel?” Spike frowned at that, possibly the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Of course not.” “Then…then he’s the only grandpa I want.” Tears filled Xander’s eyes as he gazed at Spike. Within a year. “I choose humanity.” There was a moment of stillness, silence, heavy as they let Xander’s decision sink in, then Spike was on him, hugging and kissing him, finally resting their foreheads together with a choked breath. “Thank God for that.” “You’re ready for this – us – to end?” “There’s no end, love. Don’t you see?” They leant back to look at one another, Xander’s upset meeting Spike’s relief. “Patrick. You’ve chosen Patrick.” “No. We’re walking out of here as we are. I’ve chosen our life, what’s left of it.” “But Patrick gives you our life.” “He’s…” “Fought against this entity every step of the way, didn’t you hear? Whatever he is, he’s been trying to save you, save this life for you. Preserve your humanity. You’re on the same side, love.” Another moment of sinking in. “Then…” “We can have this life.” “I…I don’t have to lose you?” Xander begged for confirmation. Spike gently cupped Xander’s face. “After what Jake told us – and I believe every word of that… Isn’t it worth the risk?” “I wish I knew more. Knew more and understood…anything.” “It’s all vague, frighteningly, I agree with you on that, and although Patrick’s pissing me off no end by not spelling it out, I feel better that he’s not trying to push you or scare you into making a decision. He’s left it up to you, love.” “That’s…” “Respect.” “Actually, I was gonna say stupid of him.” “He respects you. Because you’ve earned it.” “And this – the Pat side of all this – to you, feels…?” Spike pushed aside the knee-jerk reaction and carefully considered. Either way it was the same conclusion. “Right. I feel right, and I don’t have a need to question this for myself.” “If you trust them…” “Up there…” Spike pointed to the attic. “Don’t you feel like you belong?” Belonging. Yes, Xander had felt it, been lured to the circle because of it. Needed it. “Can it be that simple?” “Only you would find any of this simple,” Spike chuckled. He kissed Xander. “Yes. Simple. Let it be simple. I know this isn’t to do with me, but…” “Pat said my grandfather wanted me, he never mentioned you.” “Obviously. He’s been trying to get rid of me, hasn’t he? You’re what’s saved me. You and maybe…” Spike frowned. He really had to ask Patrick about post-Seattle. “There’s no question then. Pat includes you, he said both of us, didn’t he, pointedly?” Spike nodded. “That was the only thing we really needed to discuss. If the choice is me, or us… Choice becomes no choice. Patrick,” Xander smiled. “Us.” “Us,” Spike smiled back, adding, irrationally cheerfully: “Course it’s bound to be some bloody agonising procedure.” “Doesn’t have to be,” Xander grimaced. “Does it?” “Haven’t you been paying attention to the past two years? The past lifetime. Lifetimes, plural, allegedly.” “Oh, wow. About that…” “Don’t even start to question it. Let’s get back, before they think we’ve done a runner and Jake busts a gasket. Get back and get you safe.” Spike started for the stairs but Xander restrained him. Spike looked at his lover questioningly. “I will eventually wake up, wont I?” Xander asked, and Spike wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not. “Yes, love. You’ll wake up.” This time Xander followed Spike, hurrying through the darkness to the welcoming candlelight that flickered in the anomaly that was the attic; this time as they entered the room Spike stumbled and swore, falling to one knee and almost snapping Xander’s fingers as his grip spasmed. Flash. Christmas, two-thousand-and-ten. Spike saw himself slipping away from the festivities to snoop. Finding the attic, finding the hall, the carving, knowing the lure, standing on the edge and… “Go ahead. It’s quite safe.” Spike gratefully took the last step into the circle, letting himself be
swallowed up by the extraordinary sensations that coursed through him;
knowledge of another time, a glimpse of a distant place; he lived. Lived. Hot
blood pulsing through his veins, driven by the powerful beat of his own heart;
lungs clamouring for oxygen. The sight
of Patrick…Pádraig…with hair tumbling over his shoulders, the
bare patch in his beard, bristle refusing to grow through the scar. Daylight flowed across his skin, their skin. With a cry of fear and
joy, Spike dropped to his knees, toes leaving the circle and breaking the moment. The sharp sensation of loss was an
astonishingly fresh pain in an existence that Spike would’ve sworn had run out
of new agonies; he fell forward and spread both hands on the floor, fingertips
pressing into the lines of the pattern, nails trying to claw their way back to
the sense of perfect peace. “This is my place,” he gasped, all trace of the mockney accent lost. “You’ve found a little of the belonging, William.” Patrick’s accent had also reverted to its
true form, American giving way to rich Scottish. Patrick came to him, bringing a light breeze that fluttered over
Spike’s body; inhaling deeply, the vampire scented earth, heather, sunshine. “I miss the sunshine,” he whispered mournfully. “I know, my precious.” Patrick
gently helped Spike to his feet, edging him from the circle and over to the
door, stopping there to wipe the tears from his face, eyes shining with amused
affection when Spike’s finger came up to touch the clean-shaven jaw, stroking
the spot where the scar had faded to invisibility. “Shall we go and find Xander?” Spike agreed with a nod but his attention
turned back to the existence that had called to him; Patrick’s grip
tightened. “Not yet. It’s too soon for you.” With a deep, unhappy sigh, Spike accepted, letting himself be returned
to a real life that now felt considerably less real. “Spike? What did you see? What did you remember?” Spike swung around to where Xander knelt beside him and clung to him, shock turning his face ashen, emotion stealing his voice. “What it is, sweetheart?” As Spike clutched and trembled, Xander’s attention turned to Patrick. “What happened?” “He’s seen… Home,” Patrick explained with difficulty, equally as moved and twitching with the effort it took to stop him piling his own comfort onto Spike. “Home?” Xander repeated wistfully. Sun, wind, scent, sea. “Home.” “Can I…” The voice shook as Xander gazed up at Patrick, dark eyes watery as they shared the knowledge, the sun, wind, scent, sea. “Can I come home?” “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” weakly at the periphery of his hearing: Jake. Patrick extended a trembling hand. “Alexander,” he whispered. “We’re very nearly there.” Xander accepted the hand up, helped Spike to his feet and over to the chair at Rafe’s left, Beth moving to Spike’s free side, one arm around his shoulders and gently hugging, laying a tender kiss on his temple. Spike pushed into the touches, tears squeezing free of closed eyes to be caught and brushed away by soft caresses. “I felt it,” he little more than mouthed, turning to bury his face in her neck. “The peace. Belonging.” Feeling that he was intruding on…something, Xander took a few steps back, attention diverting from Spike to the others around him. “What Spike saw, what he felt… Tell me?” “Accept and choose,” Patrick prompted. “Do I get to know his name? Can I accept him without that?” “You can sense him, can’t you? The darkness?” It took little concentration for Xander to recognise the corruption within himself; it felt solid now, a weighty, repugnant knot of evil that burned at his core. Nausea rolled his stomach at the thought of this existing inside him “Can I get rid of it? Can you?” “Accept and choose.” “Yes,” Xander stated desperately, “it’s there, he’s there, I feel him in me and…and…I know him but I don’t want him, I want you. I accept what he is to me but I…” Xander stepped up to Patrick and took his hands. “I accept that he’s my grandfather, but I love you, Patrick, I love this – my – family. I choose this life, I choose Spike. I choose you.” Xander flinched as, from above them, came a series of crashes and terrifyingly inhuman screams; thunder boomed and rumbled, lightning repeatedly attacked the ward, growing in strength and volume as Patrick accepted the pledge, eyes closed but facial expression openly displaying the emotions Xander had stirred. The cacophony scraped over their nerves and assaulted their senses, and Xander was aware of Spike, Hamish, either or both, irritably growling behind him. “How do we stop this?” Xander asked Patrick, raising his voice to be heard, anxious about how much of this racket Spike could take before the demon came out to make it’s objections known. A further moment to compose himself, and Patrick looked at Xander with an expectant smile. “We don’t stop this. You do.” “I do?” “You’ve done it before.” “I have?” Xander racked his brains, seeking some remarkable thing he’d done and drawing a blank. Until… Unremarkable. Basic. Honest. The words from the road. “I told him that I reject him. That I deny him. Just to say I deny him, is that enou…” The noise eased at once, stopped over the minutes that followed. “Enough,” Patrick assured. “It’s what’s in your heart.” “He came back though.” “And he will again, if he thinks there’s a chance he can prevent what’s about to happen here. A chance he can draw you to him.” “The accepting, the choosing…?” “Just the start.” “What else?” Lack of an immediate answer and Xander looked beseechingly at Spike, who was sufficiently recovered to give a nod. “You explain now, Pádraig, everything that Xander needs to know.” “There isn’t time for everything,” Jake told them anxiously as he felt time ticking away. “Then don’t waste what you have,” Spike warned. “I’m not stalling,” Patrick said apologetically. “This was…a dream. A fantasy. I never imagined we’d actually get here. I don’t know where to start.” “Ultimately,” Beth explained, “we’ll be brought together in the Wheel. That’s the what else.” “The Wheel?” Beth answered Xander’s question by pointing at the carved circle. “But you need to understand the past before you can deal with the present. Or the future.” Beth guided Xander to Spike, who gratefully pulled Xander onto his lap; they exchanged reassuring murmurs before turning back to Beth, who was patiently sitting Patrick and then Jake down. Standing before them, she addressed her audience. “Once upon a time,” Beth began with a smile, “there was a god, and He was a mighty god. One of the Ancients, He was Thunder Incarnate. He was revered by the other gods, worshipped by humans that made sacrifices to Him; He inspired adulation, but could not inspire love. For all His might He was petty and jealous, He was cruel and tyrannical, and when those He had forced into his service could no longer bear His ways, they rebelled. His reaction was to be expected: the complete destruction of those He saw as traitors. But He experienced a moment’s weakness: He couldn’t bring himself to kill His two most precious possessions, so they were banished from His presence, which our conceited god imagined was the greatest hardship of all. “They were made human,
and implanted on Sleat, a small island in “It was not, however, the
punishment the god imagined it would be.
The island was remote, inhospitable at times, existence could be hard;
but it could also be unimaginably peaceful and beautiful, and the people there
accepted the cuckoos in their nest, and gave them the love they had been
lacking. These possessions – we’ll call
them…Pádraig and Hugh, as the island-dwellers did – embraced this life, and
their clan, and accepted the curse of humanity as a welcome gift.” “When?” Spike asked. “This would be the fifteenth century.” “Blimey.” Spike and Xander peered past Rafe to where Patrick sat listening, enthralled by his wife’s telling of his tale. “Looking good for your age, mate.” Patrick playfully waved the comment away. “You’re just saying that.” “Time,” Jake reminded them and, all suitably chastened, they refocused on Beth. “Time, yes. The people of Sleat could not recall a time when the newcomers were not a part of their lives, and Pádraig became head of the clan; secure in their new world, the two men took wives, had children, lived a life appropriate to that era, that place. There were forays to be made, battles to be fought, challenges to be met, but they were happy.” Beth paused, expression warning of bad news ahead. “Until another god, who felt himself slighted by ours and knowing His weakness, took revenge by causing the sea to swallow Hugh’s boat. His body was never found. As the community mourned, Pádraig accepted Hugh’s family into his own, as his own, and our god made and won a violent war to ensure that the clan would no longer be terrorised by supernatural forces. “But in His arrogance he
failed to consider an equally great threat: mankind. King James of “Slaughter of the clan was swift and thorough; the Lords were destroyed. Men, women, children were butchered. All that remained whole was Pádraig, because a tyrant of a god would not let this favoured possession die the death of a lowly mortal.” There was a mournful pause as Patrick’s and Beth’s eyes met and they recalled that time of loss; Xander couldn’t help the empathy but, unsure of whether his actions would be welcome at this point, denied the urgent need he felt to go to each of them in turn and offer consolation; Spike shifted uncomfortably, simply wanting more answers. Patrick eventually turned in his chair to face them. “Because of my…connections, I was given the chance to reclaim what I had lost. As an immortal I would live on, my family would be reborn, and over time I could attempt to reclaim…” Xander abruptly stood and moved away, standing with his back to them, hands clutched into fists. “Love?” Spike said softly as he rose and made to follow, only to have his wrist caught by Beth. Any desire to snarl at her for her interference dispersed when he witnessed the expression on her face as she watched Xander. Such hope. It made Spike think. Xander was having problems with thinking too, inasmuch as there was too much of it going on in his head as the story unfolded, as it all began to make sense. He was terrified and he was filled with shivery anticipation and… “Xander?” came Patrick’s voice from behind him, quietly reminding him – if he needed any reminding – of why his heart was pumping fit to burst. “Connections,” he whispered. “Possessions.” “Xander, come back and…” “I can guess and I’m scared to guess, because—” Xander slowly turned to face Patrick. “I’m scared that I’ve got it right. And I’m scared that I’ve got it wrong.” Patrick stood and took a few hesitant paces toward Xander, who clearly wasn’t the only one who was afraid. “I think you understand,” Patrick said shakily. “The connection. What I was – I am – to that god.” Xander nodded rapidly, but his speech was slow, staggering. “You’re… If… You’re his…son.” “I am.” “So, if you’re… And I’m…” Xander tried swallowing the raging emotions down, with little success. “Say it,” he choked. “Xander… I’m… I’m your father.” Spike could feel Xander’s pain from across the room, sense his confusion and longing, saw Xander’s eyes well at the suggestion – the confirmation. Something Xander needed so badly, had always needed, and this wasn’t a patch, it was a fix. Shockingly, there wasn’t a moment’s doubt in Spike’s mind over Patrick’s claim, and he willed his lover to accept and… How had he missed this? The ages were irrelevant, anyone could see it: father and son. “You’re my father,” Xander said brokenly. Patrick nodded, stared at his friend, his child, longingly, arms wanting to reach out and hold and heal. But he waited. Everyone waited. Xander…shook. One of the tears streaked down his face and he let it drip from his jaw. Everyone waited. “I’ve always…” His head dipped as he tried to conceal his turmoil, and when it seemed as if he would shake himself apart, Spike could stand it no longer. But as the vampire started to move Beth held him tighter, drawing him to her side and reassuring him with a look. Everyone waited. “Alexander, please…” Patrick’s voice broke into the silence, the regret and grief of separation encapsulated in it, hard to hear. Patrick drew breath to speak again but Xander’s hand rose, gestured for him to stay silent. “You’re what…” The words were barely there; the more Xander wanted them out the harder it was, but he would do this, he was determined to say this, because… “You’re what I…I always…wanted.” Xander finally found the courage to look at Patrick, tears streaming over his cheeks, but his eyes were filled with love and knowledge and acceptance. Patrick crossed the floor in less than a second, grabbing at Xander, yanking him close and into a tight embrace, able to hold his acknowledged son for the first time in centuries. Spike watched in awe. Joy. Sorrow. Jealousy. Satisfaction. He smiled to himself as the mindless adoration made sense. Not too good to be true. “Shouldn’t you…” he eventually prompted Beth. She shook her head before tearing his attention away from Xander and guiding it to where Moira and Jake stood, hand in hand, watching and waiting their turn to be reunited. “Ah. Right,” Spike calmly acknowledged. “You don’t seemed surprised by any of this.” “No, I don’t, do I?” Thoughts about the
influence of William were soon usurped, but there was nothing unearthly about
the latest memories stirring in Spike: Moira, fussing over Xander when he was
laid up, disconcerted by the way he teased her, calling her Mom. Must’ve
hurt, must’ve broken her poor heart.
And… Well…fuck! “You told me!” burst from Spike, and Jake found himself facing an accusatory finger. “‘He’s my brother’,” Spike quoted. “More than once, you told me…” Patrick and Xander loosened their hold a little as they took in the ongoing conversation, Patrick pointlessly wiping tears from Xander’s face, Xander doing the same for…his father. “I can’t believe this,” Xander told Patrick hoarsely. “But you do?” “Yeah, I do, I can feel the belonging. It’s just…” Xander shrugged. “Y’know.” “I know. Are you ready to not believe a little more?” Xander looked at Patrick curiously, and Patrick stood back so Xander could see Moira and Jake. The knowledge of family hit home, and there were more tears as Xander and Moira fell into one another’s arms. “We’re running out of time,” Jake warned Patrick yet again. “It’s going to happen,” Patrick promised him with a smile. “Enjoy the moment, John. You’ve waited long enough.” The minor resistance on Jake’s part was easily overcome, and Patrick brought his second son into the foursome’s reunion embrace. Spike felt an arm around his shoulders and glanced up at Rafe, started to make a smart comment to cover his own turbulent emotions, but lost it as, yet again, he saw the obvious. “Robert?” The brother that William had loved so dearly. “Will,” Rafe said roughly as he tugged Spike into a bear hug. “It was the last time we almost achieved this,” Beth told them with a wistful sigh. “When you two were together.” Spike wriggled until Rafe’s grip eased up. “Even with what I saw earlier, I kept thinking this was about Xander, not about me.” “It’s for all of us.” “That means… Hugh was my father – first-time-around father.” “Yes, he was,” Beth confirmed. “Your father, and Pádraig’s brother.” “You’re…” Spike grinned cheekily despite the misty eyes. “…my mum.” “First-time-around mum, yes.” She leant in and hugged them both. “How I’ve missed you. My boys, my beautiful, strong boys.” The smile faded from Spike’s face. “But…I’m not, am I?” The plaintive tone caught Patrick’s attention, and he understood before Spike uttered another word. “I’m not William, not your William.” “You are my son,” Beth insisted. “Our son, son and brother,” Patrick assured, “and we love you.” Spike extracted himself from the comfort zone, trying to think this through without the distraction of something he now wanted with unforeseeable intensity. What William wanted. “You know what I am?” “We know, but…” “How can you love me if you know what I really am?” “What you are, most importantly, is family.” “Are you aware of my past? How many people I’ve killed? How recently I’ve killed?” “Yes.” “Don’t you care?” “I care that you’re alive – in any sense – and here, making this possible.” “I’m supposed to be William for this…this…whatever this happening is. Do I get ripped apart again?” “That’s not going to happen,” Xander said as he broke away from Moira and Jake and hurried to Spike, “I won’t let that happen, and it isn’t something William would want.” “Obvious now, why you were so drawn to him,” Spike said quietly. “You’re meant to be with him, not me.” Xander saw the resignation on Spike’s face and his own determination flared. He turned to Patrick. “I can’t give up Spike. I won’t give him up. If it’s a choice between you, this, and him, it’s going to be him, even if it is only for a year.” Xander looked directly into Spike’s eyes. “It’s always going to be Spike.” “I’ll not let you die, Xander.” “Spike! No way can you give up who you are. If this is for William and there’s no place for you… I can’t go through with it.” “Y’know… It’s surprisingly simple for me. I’d sacrifice anything for you.” “But not your life.” Spike knew then, the contentment that could be found in the purest selfless act. He gazed into brown eyes that held an eternity for him, accepting that eternity could pass in a moment. Accepting that he and Xander had had their moment. “Yes, love. My life.”
|
|
|
|
|
| Site Updates Update List Home Fiction Gallery Links Feedback |
