chapter 10, mary magdalene – part II

Jacob snapped into an erect position in his chair, instantly awake and fully alert. A low growl hissed through his parted, trembling lips as his yellow eyes canvassed the room.

He'd been in a deep slumber, hell bent on healing his broken and bruised body after being brutalized by Spike and his fucking new girlfriend. Thankfully, he'd managed a graceful exit from the pair. He'd flown onto a rooftop, tossed a few clever, but menacing words over his shoulder, and then turned and limped home. Once there, the horror of Spike's alliance with the Slayer hadn't prevented him from falling into the most earnest sleep he'd known in more than a decade—until he sensed the witches.

He could see them in his mind's eye as they turned the corner onto his block, danced down the street toward his door, and calmly stepped into the hallway of his home. He could feel their dark eyes searching and their power reaching through the floor as they looked for him.

"Fuck!" Jacob cursed. Hadn't Leviticus condemned the existence of witches more vehemently than that of half-breed demons? Jacob knew his studies. These twisted brides of angels spoke syllables that changed worlds, ended destinies and maligned the un-lives of God-fearing vampires like him. Now two of them had dared waltz into his house—uninvited.

He panted with anger and a fear he hadn't known in decades. He had to think. Clear his head. Calm the bloody fuck down.

Rational thought. That's all he needed, he reasoned. There were two of them. He could distinguish a set of heavy footsteps dragging over the floorboards above him, moving slowly and deliberately. The other set was lighter and unencumbered. This witch walked boldly into his hallway. He decided the bigger girl, the one with the heavy feet, wasn't as much of a threat. But the other? He cringed as a vision of this witch entered his mind, her wide mouth pressed against his cold ear, whispering spells into his dead body. He'd been a vampire for nearly 125 years and had avoided witches for the most part, but this one smelled like Shemhazi—the one that had seen God and had returned to the earth unscathed.

And now she's found me. The bloody bitch.

He pushed his palms against his temples. Things had been going so well. Then a portal jumper, a Chosen One, Aurelian curses, old comrades and…

“Witches!” Jacob leaped from his chair onto his feet. Lightening fast, he jumped up three stairs at a time, careening off the walls as he ascended up stairwell after stairwell. He flew up the final flight of stairs before flinging the cellar door open. Then he stopped. A startled young girl with large brown eyes and full wet lips was standing in front of him, screaming.

She stumbled backward as he took a menacing step toward her in full demon face. This was mostly posturing he knew because this one didn't concern him. Still, he growled deeply as he leaned toward her.

“Tara!” The other witch grabbed the girl by the hand and pulled her close, positioning herself between the girl and Jacob, her body shielding Tara from him. She then stepped toward Jacob and without showing any signs of fear stopped a few feet in front of his face. Then she raised her head, leveled her black eyes on his face and glared at him.

So this was the one. The queen of witches. He examined her from head to toe, moving his gaze slowly over her body. She was small in stature with perky little breasts, nice slender hips and a mop of reddish colored hair. She was pretty, Jacob decided as he allowed his face to shift back to its human mask.

“No worry,” he grinned. “I won't bite you.”

“We already know that.” Her words crackled in the suddenly too quiet hallway.

He kept his eyes on her and his back against the wall as he moved cautiously toward the living room. As quick as he was, he knew he couldn't attack both of them before a spell of some monstrous proportion was cast upon his dead flesh. He recalled that the Shemhazi was a word witch. Others used roots and herbs. Less powerful, but still potent. But, the wrong word from the redhead's blasted mouth and he was dust. Indeed, he was surprised he wasn't dust already. Maybe she needed his help, he wondered.

“Right then. So I can't hurt you.” Jacob continued to move slowly along the wall. “What can I do for you then, my ladies?”

“You can keep still,” the red-haired girl said.

Jacob froze. He wasn't certain if she'd cast a spell or made a suggestion. Either way, he hoped he'd stopped moving of his own volition.

“Willow,” said the girl named Tara. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely” she answered, staring at Jacob. “We're looking for the portal jumper. He's tracking some friends of ours and I need to find him before he finds them.”

“You're a powerful witch, girlie. Why can't you just say the word and destroy him?”

“I could,” she said, matter-of-factly. “But then my friends would die.”

“Too bad,” Jacob nodded and then decided to try moving away from the wall. He took a cautious step toward the witch. “I won't help you.”

“Keep your ass against the wall.” As she spoke, his body flew backward, her words sticking him to the wall. “The portal jumper has something I need and I've got to get it back.”

“If you know about the portal jumper then you know why he's here,” said Jacob. “And you also know that as a vampire, there's no reason on God's earth I'd want to keep him from his mission.”

“He doesn't want you,” she smiled and tilted her small head slightly. “He wants the other Aurelian.”

“How come you know so fucking much?”

“I've seen God.”

“You are Shemhazi,” Jacob whispered, his brow wrinkled with amazement. He'd been right or she'd read his mind.

“Only since I forgot the fear of being what I am." She stepped closer to him. “And got all comfy with what I can do.”

“You did a thought spell?” His eyes narrowed. “And fixing this won't change you back too?”

“No, not if you help me get what I want,” she smiled. Her voice was light, almost childlike. “Then I'll help you get what you want.”

“How?” Jacob barely managed to get the word out.

“The portal jumper is looking for an Aurelian. There were two in California, but one of them has a soul, and he definitely isn't looking for a vampire with a soul. Nor does he want an insane demon, who talks nonsense to headless dolls.” Willow moved away from Tara and walked into the living room. Jacob followed her as the other witch walked into the room behind him.

“So right now in this hemisphere, there are only two vampires of Aurelian descent. We both know that only one can receive the portal jumper's gifts.” She sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and glanced around the room expectantly, as if she were waiting for a maid to bring her tea Jacob thought.

“So you help me, I'll help you,” Willow added.

“And this other Aurelian?”

“Spike. His name is Spike,” said Tara. “And he's here in New York.”

Jacob turned and stared at the big-boned girl when he heard her voice.

“But you already know his name,” interjected Willow.

“You want me to dust him?”

“No,” answered Willow and Jacob noticed a slight tremble in her voice. “We just need him—elsewhere.”

Daylight was slipping through an opening in the heavy curtains that covered the large glass windows in the living room. Jacob moved away from the light to the front of the fireplace and rested his elbow on the mantle. He fingered a framed platinum print by Aston Clinton of Angelus and Darla from 1895. Looking back at Willow, who had been joined on the sofa by Tara, he wondered if the witch knew about his relationship to Spike. Then he shrugged. It didn't really matter.

“So where do we begin.”

“You must contact the portal jumper,” she began. “Ask him to come to you tonight.”

“Bloody hell, witch,” he exclaimed. “Jumping right into the middle of things, hey?”

“That's what I do best.”


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“Xander!” yelped Anya as he caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms seconds before she fell onto the pavement. He choked back a chuckle as she wiggled free of his embrace and pulled on her too short skirt. She was trying to recover her dignity he imagined, although that wasn’t necessary. She looked good. But then again, she didn't look that much different from the last time he'd seen her, except today her hair was brown. But then her hair was always some color other than the one it had been the day before.

“Well, thanks for scaring a girl half to death, Mr. Harris,” she pulled away from him.

“I saved you, Anya,” he said softly. “You were a second from being face down—”

“Look, I'm just fine and we have nothing to say to each other. Besides, what are you doing here?”

“It's a public park, Anya.” said Xander, panting as he struggled to keep up with her. She was running across the street, tugging at her clothing as she sped away from him.

“Look Xander, you haven't talked to anyone in months, so what's brought you out of the closet today?”

“You haven't seen me in months. How do you know I haven't been talking to anyone.”

“I know things,” she stopped abruptly and Xander stumbled into her back. “Get off me!”

“Anya, please. I need to talk to you.” He held her by the arm and was glad she hadn't pulled away this time.

“For whatever reason, the spell didn't just take away a thought from me. It changed me.” It wasn't going to be easy to explain what had happened to him. But he knew he had to tell her. He hadn't slept in days thinking about what he wanted to say. He'd left Giles' apartment at midnight and had waited outside Anya's new home and Spike’s old crypt all night long, trying to figure out how he'd explain what he'd become.

“Actually, it did more than change me, it gave me a power.”

Anya's eyebrows arched. She was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. But then again in a way, maybe he had. Since the spell, he'd felt that he could see into the hearts and minds of those around him. He wasn't a mind reader. Naw, that wasn't it. He simply was able to see the true nature of things. It felt as if blinders had been removed from his eyes. No longer did he judge those around him so narrowly. It didn't matter how they looked or what they were called. He saw them for what they were. The day he'd found out Anya had left him; he'd gone to Willow, his best friend, to talk to her about this new skill. Learn about the magic that had given him this power. But when he'd walked into the house on Revello Drive, he'd looked into Willow's heart and saw the truth of her, and it had frightened him nearly to death.

Xander had decided then and there, he had to find a way to help Willow. It took all of his concentration to reach her. The effort turned him into a shuddering, babbling fool. He'd cower in corners, barely able to speak and felt suicidal all the time. But eventually Willow saw what he had seen. But on that day, he cried as he realized his Willow didn't want to return to him. She welcomed this new truth about herself and reveled in it. Xander did possess some power over her, however. She seemed less obsessed when he was around. Giles noticed it, too. That was why the Watcher had invited him to live in his home in the first place. To protect him from Willow.

“Anya.” He still held on to her arm and grasped it even tighter, then paused. He sensed something in the park. Something bad.

“Yes, I'm standing right in front of you.”

“The portal jumper is here,” he whispered.

Xander looked at the kids and the moms playing under the trees near a cluster of bushes with shiny yellow roses. A shimmering light caught his eye. He then saw a thin black-haired man in a off-white suit slither from behind a tree.

“We've got to go,” he pulled Anya to him. “Now.”

“Xander, he wants to talk to me.”

Anya touched his hand as he stared into her eyes and looked into her heart. He couldn’t see anything. She was closed to him.

“Anya?”

“No,” she stepped away. “Go now. I'll be okay. He doesn't want to hurt me.”

She grabbed his face with both of her hands. “Please Xander. You've got to go. Now.”

He turned and ran out of the park toward Giles' apartment.


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Spike had known Dawn was awake as soon as Buffy had invited him into the apartment. He also knew she wasn't alone. He'd heard the galloping heartbeat of a boy hunched in the corner, doing his best impersonation of the invisible man. He'd also heard Dawn's heart race when Buffy called him by his name. If Dawn hadn't been hiding the boy, she'd have jumped up and showed just how glad she was to see old Spike. But instead, Dawn had pretended to be asleep and since Spike had no intention of squealing on Dawn, he'd followed Buffy silently into her bedroom.

Spike rolled onto his side in Buffy's bed. She'd left him alone, which was probably a good thing. A few hours had passed and he was already feeling better, his body getting the rest it needed to heal. If she had stayed, he would not have been able to concentrate on his body. Well, at least not on the parts of his body that needed healing.

He sighed into his pillow.

"Spike. You still asleep?”

It was Buffy.

"And if I say yes, gonna call me a liar?"

He flipped over, sat up in the bed and stared at her. She looked really good. He couldn't imagine how she'd managed it. He was certain she hadn't slept all night. Most likely, she'd curled up in the sodding chair in the living room and barely closed her eyes, worrying herself with guilt about kissing him and caring for his wounds.

"No." She stepped further into the room. “Not gonna say that.”

Buffy walked over to the window. “Really came in to check on the curtains. Didn't want you burning up before we had another chance to talk."

“We can talk now, you know."

“Okay. Then tell me about the Portal Jumper.”

“He's a legend among vampires, in particular, Aurelians.”

“What's the big deal?”

“Can make us human again.”

“Wow.”

“Gets better.” Spike swung his legs onto the floor, stood up and walked over to the window where Buffy was standing and faced her. “We become human, but keep all our vamp powers and needs.”

Spike heard Buffy's breath catch as he moved closer to her.

“Scary,” she said softly. “But if this is all about vampires, why was the portal jumper after Dawn?”

“Don't know, pet.”

“We're missing something, aren't we?”

“Believe so, love.”

“Your friend Jacob,” began Buffy, her tone filled with sarcasm. “Can he help us?”

“We can ask him.”

“You know where to find him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's find him tonight, okay?”

Spike suddenly couldn't focus on Buffy's words. His eyes moved slowly from her eyes to her tongue as it flicked over her lips. She was panting and her heart was banging against her chest. He wondered if he was making her nervous. Spike held back a smile. “Yes, love, we'll go at dusk.”

“Okay.” Buffy took a step backward toward the door and away from Spike. “You gonna go back to bed?”

“Definitely.” Spike moved his head from side to side as the small grin he'd tried to stop a few moments before creased the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, Spike!” Buffy spun and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

He smirked as the sound echoed in his ears. Then he jumped into the bed, pulled the covers over his head and hoped he was right. Maybe Willow’s thought spell hadn't affected Buffy that much afterall.

to be continued...