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Bleed Black by GaiaVoidMother
What Now?
He had a headache. Which was strange, bein’ dead ought to exempt you from the maladies of the sodding human condition. Only time his head should throb was when it got clobbered. *Remember that blond fire-cracker? She made it hurt so good.* He’d found Dru o’course, wanderin’ downtown Sunnyhell like it was her soddin’ backyard. The pixies had done a right number on her this time. She’d been soaking wet and stumbling vacant-eyed from streetlight to streetlight, face flickering to demon-glare and back again like a poorly tuned telly. At least it appeared she’d eaten, her lower face and chest were blood-smeared.
He glanced at her in the passenger seat beside him. She’d been sub-vocalising for over an hour now, and between the animalistic whining and off-key humming he was about ready to go completely spare. *That’s it* -click-
Mama, where's your little daughter?
She’s here, right here on the altar
You should never have opened that door
now you're never gonna see her no more
You don't know what I can do with this axe chop off your head
so you better relax
He smirked, *Well ain’t that cute?* turned the radio up til he couldn’t hear Dru anymore, and kept driving.
'I’ll just go on a buying trip Mr Giles, I can put it on business expenses then, and I have a few contacts there who’ve wanted to meet me for a while.’
‘Well that will cover your coming then. I can simply go back and report- No I can’t actually. If I report Buffy’s demise to the Council they’ll have no reason to let me come back, and once Buffy is re-corporealised she’ll need me back here. I shall instead go under the premise of a research trip, there is a veritable cornucopia of books I haven’t access to at the Council Headquarters Library’
‘Mr Giles, a thought occurs to me, what are we supposed to tell her friends? I wouldn’t wish to worry them, and if we are going to get her back it seems cruel to tell them what has happened.’
‘Quite. I had thought… Perhaps… I have something. There is a sort of vision quest between a Watcher and his charge, sometimes. If I were to intimate that she was unable to communicate at this time- which would be a perfect truth- we could stave off their undue worry and gain some lee-way in which to work on gaining her back. It might be best to avoid telling Angel altogether, he knows a little more about the sorts of rituals and activities of Slayers and their Watchers than do Xander and Willow. You can probably let the school know that she is going on holiday with you and get her schoolwork, which would support the theory of her quest to her friends, and satisfy that berk Snyder and her teachers as to her keeping up with the syllabus.’
‘You know, I somehow doubt that vile little man is ever satisfied about anything.’
Giles chuckled at that, almost surprised that he could under the circumstances. Joyce smiled wanly as she stood, taking her empty cup to the sink before gathering her coat and handbag near the entryway. ‘Do keep in touch Mr Giles, let me know when you have the tickets and when we leave.’
‘Oh not for a good two weeks my dear, I have some things I need to organise, and some people to contact. There is a coven in Devon that might be able to help, and I know a Watcher friend in Wales who might be able to clear a few things up in regards to this prophecy of ours. We WILL get Buffy back Ms Summers-’
‘Oh for Heavens sakes call me Joyce already! We know each other far too well for this formal nonsense.’
‘Quite right. Well you mustn’t feel the need to be formal with me either, Ms- I mean, Joyce. Do be careful on your way back. I’ll make arrangements to leave town now, you can let Buffy’s friends know she’s gone with me. This way we can keep them from finding out she’s gone already.’
Buffy looked around curiously as she followed the larger woman from the room she’d woken up in. Stone walls, big carpet-looking things hung from the walls in some places, and the windows were tiny, barely wider than her hand. There were torches on the walls and how weird was that? Did these people not know about electricity? After navigating a horrifyingly steep flight of stairs, *Why are there no handrails? Vertigo-Buffy demands handrails!* they entered a wide passageway with a thick runner of scuffed, hand-woven carpet, and yet more torches, supporting her theory that they had no clue about modern conveniences.
A rhythmic sound in the distance, muffled by the thick walls, grew steadily louder, until she passed a door that opened onto a large courtyard with a dirt floor. There was a group of about 16 students, ranging in age from what looked like an eight year old, to a young man in his twenties. They all faced off in pairs, and were sparring with wooden staves under the stern glare of a rugged one-eyed man. He was barking instructions as they struggled to keep their opponents from connecting with a hit. ‘Come away from that door, dearie, plenty of time to get acquainted to thy fellows after tha’s had some refreshment. Tha’ll begin thy training on the morrow, bright and early. This afternoon tha’ll see to the book learnin’ for thy stay here.’
Buffy groaned, *I can’t even die to escape school. That’s it, I’m SURE now that I’m in some sort of Hell dimension* but made no comment as she trudged behind her guide, still yawning and rubbing at her eyes.
He wasn’t sure where it had all gone to pot, but he knew he was in some deep shit when this was all over. *She definitely wasn’t s’posed to snuff it this early. Ah hell. What’ll I tell ‘em? What CAN I tell ‘em? “Sorry, got the wrong guy, the right one slipped under the radar, I lost him and now he’s gone and screwed the pooch?” I'm SURE this guy was supposed to be it, he has a soul for Pete’s sake. Now what do I do?*
Wincing as he felt the pull on his spirit, the ugly little man bowed his head and winked out of this plane. The place he ended up in wasn’t so much a dimension as it was the between of it all. It always disoriented him, the way the negative space affected his vision. His stomach roiled with the pull of all the conflicting energies. Beings such as he was did not belong here, and the multiverse tried to correct that by shunting them across to the closest (but that was inaccurate, you could get to anywhere-or when- from here) dimension that would have them. Something like sweat broke out on his brow and he mopped at it, held here by the will of more powerful beings than he.
-WHISTLER-
*Ah Hells, here we go*
-CARE TO EXPLAIN WHAT EXACTLY HAS OCCURRED HERE?-
*Sounds just like my Mother* ‘Uh, sure Boss. I uh- well, funny story really…’
-REALLY? FUNNY STORY. FUNNY, THAT YOU HAVE SO FAILED YOUR GIVEN TASK, A SIMPLE REQUEST, THAT OUR CHOSEN LIES DEAD ON HER HOME PLANE? FUNNY, THAT INSTEAD OF SENDING HER TO YNYS SCI AFTER SHE COMES OF AGE, WE ARE FORCED TO SALVAGE HER SOUL BEFORE IT MOVES ON TO ELYSIUM AND POUR IT INTO A HASTILY BUILT SIMULACRUM OF HER OWN BODY TWO YEARS BEFORE IT IS TIME? THAT KIND OF FUNNY?-
He gave a wheezing chuckle of incipient panic. ‘Uh, well when you put it like that… kinda doesn’t sound so good for me, does it?’
-AND YOU ARE ONLY JUST NOW CATCHING ON? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MORE WORK YOU’VE CREATED WITH THIS DEBACLE? WE HAD TO CREATE A TEMPORAL DISPLACEMENT AND PUSH A SEER INTO A TRANCE, JUST SO THAT WE HAD A CONTINGENCY PROPHECY FOR THIS. YOU HAD BETTER HOPE THAT THIS IS SALVAGEABLE BECAUSE WITH YOUR LITTLE MUCK-UP BUFFY’S DEATH HAS BECOME IMMUTABLE WITHIN THIS TIMELINE. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, WHISTLER? YOU CAN’T FIX THIS BY REWINDING THE CLOCK, IT WILL ALWAYS HAPPEN.-
‘So what do I do? Am I even still on this case? If this is unfixable wouldn’t it be better to just- I dunno- let this one go? You’ve done it before, letting a dimension follow through to a natural end, wouldn’t that make things simpler?’
-WE COULD DO THIS. IT WOULD CERTAINLY BE EASIER. HOWEVER, WE THOUGHT TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE AT CONTINUED EXISTENCE. THAT BEING UNDERSTOOD, IF YOU WISH FOR OBLIVION WE WON’T ARGUE.-
‘I don’t understand, how does my life connect to wipin’ the slate here?’
-REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE FIRST EMPOWERED TO WORK FOR US? WHICH DIMENSION DID WE PULL YOU FROM? DID YOU KNOW, THAT IF THAT DIMENSION CEASED TO EXIST DUE TO THE APOCALYPSE EVENT YOU’VE TRIGGERED WITH YOUR NEGLIGENCE, THAT YOU TOO WOULD CEASE TO EXIST? WE ARE NOT OMNIPOTENT, THOUGH IT IS A NEAR THING. EVEN WE WORK WITHIN PARAMETERS.-
‘Oh.’
-YES. “OH”. YOU STILL HAVE A LITTLE TIME. THERE IS HOPE THAT WHAT OUR CHAMPION LEARNS WILL ACTUALLY LEAD HER TO A CONCLUSION THAT ALLOWS FOR THE CONTINUED EXISTENCE OF YOUR HOME PLANE. THERE IS EVEN A CHANCE THAT OUR OUTSIDE WAGER WILL BEGIN DOWN THE PATH HE WAS BEING GROOMED FOR, DESPITE THE SHEER UNLIKELINESS OF THIS OCCURRING WITHOUT OUTSIDE INTERVENTION. THANKFULLY WE STILL HAVE PIECES IN PLAY TO ASSIST YOU. WHAT WE NEED FROM YOU NOW WHISTLER, IS FOR YOU TO RETURN, AND SET THIS PLAY IN MOTION-
His head is flooded suddenly with information. Clutching his now throbbing skull, Whistler is winked out of existence as his superiors’ attention shifts from him. *Coulda been worse I guess. Least I only gotta play Cupid to a pair of super-stubborn super-beings. Piece'a cake! Dimensions’ continued existence only relies on it, nothin to worry about here. I got this. No pressure.*
Angel was a little perturbed. Buffy hadn’t shown up last night, and she’d taken to following him around like an overgrown puppy of late. It was kinda cute, with a perverse and star-crossed-Romeo-Juliet kinda vibe to it. He tried to feel ashamed that her naive innocence and barely mature body turned him on so badly, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Both as Liam and Angelus he’d reveled in fresh-faced youth, the younger the better. That wasn’t to say that he’d not enjoyed the more experienced skill-set of slightly older women, most notably his Sire Darla, who’d been turned in her late twenties. But the fact remained that there was something about the budding breasts and slim hips of a young woman.
Liam had been a rakehell and a drunken layabout, Angelus took a darker kind of pleasure in corrupting innocents. Angel had a century to ponder the depths of his depravity, snowed under by a crushing sense of guilt and shame, but it wasn’t enough to quite smother the pleasure he remembered. His demon might be chained now by the curse, but it still hungered, and he’d never be free of that appetite.
He’d kept away from Buffy for as long as he could, but since she was apparently part of his journey of redemption he couldn’t leave altogether. Slowly his resolve had weakened, and he found himself under her window almost nightly, trailing her on patrols and once, even kissing her. That last had been a monumental mistake and he’d nearly lost control, vamping out briefly and scaring the lass silly. Funny that she hadn’t suspected he was a vampire until that night, but he thought maybe it was because of the soul, or simply that she hadn’t wanted him to be a vampire. Infatuation was blind and the way she looked at him with her heart in her eyes was gratifying and intoxicating. He’d always loved that soft bedroom gaze, right before he tor- No! He wasn’t like that anymore, he wasn’t Angelus anymore.
He sighed, scrubbing his face. This redemption business was hard going apparently. Suddenly, there was a pop of displaced air behind him. He whirled, hands up defensively, before dropping them and grimacing. It was that odd, ugly little guy that’d dragged him from the sewers and shown him his destiny. ‘Hello Whistler, what’s going on?’
Chapter End Notes:
Lyrics in Spikes' scene are from the Ramones' song You Should Never Have Opened That Door. A funny little piece, and way too catchy & upbeat for the lyrics. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOnhuMc2Vlc studio version there. The demo version is a bit of alright too.
That bit where Spike thinks the lyrics are 'cute'? I used the british colloquial/traditional meaning, where cute implies cheeky.
Yeah I know, there's a lot of Celtic mythology floating around this piece already, and then I thump a clunking Greek name for the Afterlife in, but please bear with me. The 'voice' of the Powers that are 'speaking' with Whistler aren't traveling on soundwaves. They kinda insert themselves in your skull without passing through your ears first. So the 'words' used are more an interpretation that the listener puts on them, as they are more like complex ideas than actual words. You can imagine how disorienting it would be to commune with these guys, in the negative space between dimensions?
He glanced at her in the passenger seat beside him. She’d been sub-vocalising for over an hour now, and between the animalistic whining and off-key humming he was about ready to go completely spare. *That’s it* -click-
Mama, where's your little daughter?
She’s here, right here on the altar
You should never have opened that door
now you're never gonna see her no more
You don't know what I can do with this axe chop off your head
so you better relax
He smirked, *Well ain’t that cute?* turned the radio up til he couldn’t hear Dru anymore, and kept driving.
'I’ll just go on a buying trip Mr Giles, I can put it on business expenses then, and I have a few contacts there who’ve wanted to meet me for a while.’
‘Well that will cover your coming then. I can simply go back and report- No I can’t actually. If I report Buffy’s demise to the Council they’ll have no reason to let me come back, and once Buffy is re-corporealised she’ll need me back here. I shall instead go under the premise of a research trip, there is a veritable cornucopia of books I haven’t access to at the Council Headquarters Library’
‘Mr Giles, a thought occurs to me, what are we supposed to tell her friends? I wouldn’t wish to worry them, and if we are going to get her back it seems cruel to tell them what has happened.’
‘Quite. I had thought… Perhaps… I have something. There is a sort of vision quest between a Watcher and his charge, sometimes. If I were to intimate that she was unable to communicate at this time- which would be a perfect truth- we could stave off their undue worry and gain some lee-way in which to work on gaining her back. It might be best to avoid telling Angel altogether, he knows a little more about the sorts of rituals and activities of Slayers and their Watchers than do Xander and Willow. You can probably let the school know that she is going on holiday with you and get her schoolwork, which would support the theory of her quest to her friends, and satisfy that berk Snyder and her teachers as to her keeping up with the syllabus.’
‘You know, I somehow doubt that vile little man is ever satisfied about anything.’
Giles chuckled at that, almost surprised that he could under the circumstances. Joyce smiled wanly as she stood, taking her empty cup to the sink before gathering her coat and handbag near the entryway. ‘Do keep in touch Mr Giles, let me know when you have the tickets and when we leave.’
‘Oh not for a good two weeks my dear, I have some things I need to organise, and some people to contact. There is a coven in Devon that might be able to help, and I know a Watcher friend in Wales who might be able to clear a few things up in regards to this prophecy of ours. We WILL get Buffy back Ms Summers-’
‘Oh for Heavens sakes call me Joyce already! We know each other far too well for this formal nonsense.’
‘Quite right. Well you mustn’t feel the need to be formal with me either, Ms- I mean, Joyce. Do be careful on your way back. I’ll make arrangements to leave town now, you can let Buffy’s friends know she’s gone with me. This way we can keep them from finding out she’s gone already.’
Buffy looked around curiously as she followed the larger woman from the room she’d woken up in. Stone walls, big carpet-looking things hung from the walls in some places, and the windows were tiny, barely wider than her hand. There were torches on the walls and how weird was that? Did these people not know about electricity? After navigating a horrifyingly steep flight of stairs, *Why are there no handrails? Vertigo-Buffy demands handrails!* they entered a wide passageway with a thick runner of scuffed, hand-woven carpet, and yet more torches, supporting her theory that they had no clue about modern conveniences.
A rhythmic sound in the distance, muffled by the thick walls, grew steadily louder, until she passed a door that opened onto a large courtyard with a dirt floor. There was a group of about 16 students, ranging in age from what looked like an eight year old, to a young man in his twenties. They all faced off in pairs, and were sparring with wooden staves under the stern glare of a rugged one-eyed man. He was barking instructions as they struggled to keep their opponents from connecting with a hit. ‘Come away from that door, dearie, plenty of time to get acquainted to thy fellows after tha’s had some refreshment. Tha’ll begin thy training on the morrow, bright and early. This afternoon tha’ll see to the book learnin’ for thy stay here.’
Buffy groaned, *I can’t even die to escape school. That’s it, I’m SURE now that I’m in some sort of Hell dimension* but made no comment as she trudged behind her guide, still yawning and rubbing at her eyes.
He wasn’t sure where it had all gone to pot, but he knew he was in some deep shit when this was all over. *She definitely wasn’t s’posed to snuff it this early. Ah hell. What’ll I tell ‘em? What CAN I tell ‘em? “Sorry, got the wrong guy, the right one slipped under the radar, I lost him and now he’s gone and screwed the pooch?” I'm SURE this guy was supposed to be it, he has a soul for Pete’s sake. Now what do I do?*
Wincing as he felt the pull on his spirit, the ugly little man bowed his head and winked out of this plane. The place he ended up in wasn’t so much a dimension as it was the between of it all. It always disoriented him, the way the negative space affected his vision. His stomach roiled with the pull of all the conflicting energies. Beings such as he was did not belong here, and the multiverse tried to correct that by shunting them across to the closest (but that was inaccurate, you could get to anywhere-or when- from here) dimension that would have them. Something like sweat broke out on his brow and he mopped at it, held here by the will of more powerful beings than he.
-WHISTLER-
*Ah Hells, here we go*
-CARE TO EXPLAIN WHAT EXACTLY HAS OCCURRED HERE?-
*Sounds just like my Mother* ‘Uh, sure Boss. I uh- well, funny story really…’
-REALLY? FUNNY STORY. FUNNY, THAT YOU HAVE SO FAILED YOUR GIVEN TASK, A SIMPLE REQUEST, THAT OUR CHOSEN LIES DEAD ON HER HOME PLANE? FUNNY, THAT INSTEAD OF SENDING HER TO YNYS SCI AFTER SHE COMES OF AGE, WE ARE FORCED TO SALVAGE HER SOUL BEFORE IT MOVES ON TO ELYSIUM AND POUR IT INTO A HASTILY BUILT SIMULACRUM OF HER OWN BODY TWO YEARS BEFORE IT IS TIME? THAT KIND OF FUNNY?-
He gave a wheezing chuckle of incipient panic. ‘Uh, well when you put it like that… kinda doesn’t sound so good for me, does it?’
-AND YOU ARE ONLY JUST NOW CATCHING ON? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MORE WORK YOU’VE CREATED WITH THIS DEBACLE? WE HAD TO CREATE A TEMPORAL DISPLACEMENT AND PUSH A SEER INTO A TRANCE, JUST SO THAT WE HAD A CONTINGENCY PROPHECY FOR THIS. YOU HAD BETTER HOPE THAT THIS IS SALVAGEABLE BECAUSE WITH YOUR LITTLE MUCK-UP BUFFY’S DEATH HAS BECOME IMMUTABLE WITHIN THIS TIMELINE. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, WHISTLER? YOU CAN’T FIX THIS BY REWINDING THE CLOCK, IT WILL ALWAYS HAPPEN.-
‘So what do I do? Am I even still on this case? If this is unfixable wouldn’t it be better to just- I dunno- let this one go? You’ve done it before, letting a dimension follow through to a natural end, wouldn’t that make things simpler?’
-WE COULD DO THIS. IT WOULD CERTAINLY BE EASIER. HOWEVER, WE THOUGHT TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE AT CONTINUED EXISTENCE. THAT BEING UNDERSTOOD, IF YOU WISH FOR OBLIVION WE WON’T ARGUE.-
‘I don’t understand, how does my life connect to wipin’ the slate here?’
-REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE FIRST EMPOWERED TO WORK FOR US? WHICH DIMENSION DID WE PULL YOU FROM? DID YOU KNOW, THAT IF THAT DIMENSION CEASED TO EXIST DUE TO THE APOCALYPSE EVENT YOU’VE TRIGGERED WITH YOUR NEGLIGENCE, THAT YOU TOO WOULD CEASE TO EXIST? WE ARE NOT OMNIPOTENT, THOUGH IT IS A NEAR THING. EVEN WE WORK WITHIN PARAMETERS.-
‘Oh.’
-YES. “OH”. YOU STILL HAVE A LITTLE TIME. THERE IS HOPE THAT WHAT OUR CHAMPION LEARNS WILL ACTUALLY LEAD HER TO A CONCLUSION THAT ALLOWS FOR THE CONTINUED EXISTENCE OF YOUR HOME PLANE. THERE IS EVEN A CHANCE THAT OUR OUTSIDE WAGER WILL BEGIN DOWN THE PATH HE WAS BEING GROOMED FOR, DESPITE THE SHEER UNLIKELINESS OF THIS OCCURRING WITHOUT OUTSIDE INTERVENTION. THANKFULLY WE STILL HAVE PIECES IN PLAY TO ASSIST YOU. WHAT WE NEED FROM YOU NOW WHISTLER, IS FOR YOU TO RETURN, AND SET THIS PLAY IN MOTION-
His head is flooded suddenly with information. Clutching his now throbbing skull, Whistler is winked out of existence as his superiors’ attention shifts from him. *Coulda been worse I guess. Least I only gotta play Cupid to a pair of super-stubborn super-beings. Piece'a cake! Dimensions’ continued existence only relies on it, nothin to worry about here. I got this. No pressure.*
Angel was a little perturbed. Buffy hadn’t shown up last night, and she’d taken to following him around like an overgrown puppy of late. It was kinda cute, with a perverse and star-crossed-Romeo-Juliet kinda vibe to it. He tried to feel ashamed that her naive innocence and barely mature body turned him on so badly, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Both as Liam and Angelus he’d reveled in fresh-faced youth, the younger the better. That wasn’t to say that he’d not enjoyed the more experienced skill-set of slightly older women, most notably his Sire Darla, who’d been turned in her late twenties. But the fact remained that there was something about the budding breasts and slim hips of a young woman.
Liam had been a rakehell and a drunken layabout, Angelus took a darker kind of pleasure in corrupting innocents. Angel had a century to ponder the depths of his depravity, snowed under by a crushing sense of guilt and shame, but it wasn’t enough to quite smother the pleasure he remembered. His demon might be chained now by the curse, but it still hungered, and he’d never be free of that appetite.
He’d kept away from Buffy for as long as he could, but since she was apparently part of his journey of redemption he couldn’t leave altogether. Slowly his resolve had weakened, and he found himself under her window almost nightly, trailing her on patrols and once, even kissing her. That last had been a monumental mistake and he’d nearly lost control, vamping out briefly and scaring the lass silly. Funny that she hadn’t suspected he was a vampire until that night, but he thought maybe it was because of the soul, or simply that she hadn’t wanted him to be a vampire. Infatuation was blind and the way she looked at him with her heart in her eyes was gratifying and intoxicating. He’d always loved that soft bedroom gaze, right before he tor- No! He wasn’t like that anymore, he wasn’t Angelus anymore.
He sighed, scrubbing his face. This redemption business was hard going apparently. Suddenly, there was a pop of displaced air behind him. He whirled, hands up defensively, before dropping them and grimacing. It was that odd, ugly little guy that’d dragged him from the sewers and shown him his destiny. ‘Hello Whistler, what’s going on?’
Chapter End Notes:
Lyrics in Spikes' scene are from the Ramones' song You Should Never Have Opened That Door. A funny little piece, and way too catchy & upbeat for the lyrics. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOnhuMc2Vlc studio version there. The demo version is a bit of alright too.
That bit where Spike thinks the lyrics are 'cute'? I used the british colloquial/traditional meaning, where cute implies cheeky.
Yeah I know, there's a lot of Celtic mythology floating around this piece already, and then I thump a clunking Greek name for the Afterlife in, but please bear with me. The 'voice' of the Powers that are 'speaking' with Whistler aren't traveling on soundwaves. They kinda insert themselves in your skull without passing through your ears first. So the 'words' used are more an interpretation that the listener puts on them, as they are more like complex ideas than actual words. You can imagine how disorienting it would be to commune with these guys, in the negative space between dimensions?
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