If I should die before I wake - Novel version: The Shell
by Gaius Petronius
"If I Should Die Before I Wake"
by Gaius Petronius

DISCLAIMER:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on
the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox
and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads,
make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay
claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central
character in an original novel I've been working on now for too
many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format
during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake"
is the sequel to my first Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: R for violence, language and a sexual "situation."

* * * * * * * *

"But in the grey of the morning,
My mind becomes confused
Between the dead and the sleeping
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

* * * * * * * *

"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

* * * * * * * *

Chapter 3 - The Shell

Spike was tired of rolling his wheelchair from hideout to hideout.
Abandoned warehouses weren't exactly his taste in lairs (the handicap
access was limited to the loading docks) but Drusilla took a shine
to their cavernous interiors. Of course it was necessary to pack
up after the miserable Slayer and her Scoobies broke up the raising
of the Ancient One three weeks ago. He, Drusilla and Angelus couldn't
live in Warehouse #3 anymore. After Drusilla's latest "party,"
the place was a total wreck, plus they couldn't have the Slayer
just dropping in anytime after what they did to her latest boyfriend.
Also there was the possibility that her Watcher might go "pyro"
again. That stupid Angelus had to start an all out war by killing
the Watcher's sweetie just for the thrill of it. Angelus never
had a drop of sense anyway and was always acting out his Slayer
inspired frustrations.

Spike sighed. He did miss the large ornate banquet table they
had salvaged from the Sunnydale landfill. It had plenty of room
to spread out bodies for feasting and the nineteenth century carving
was just suggestive enough to make Drusilla squeal every time
she looked at it. No one made those kind of noises like his Dru.
That table really did it for her, not like the late twentieth
century particle board piece of corporate crap they were stuck
with now.

The new lair was in an empty series of industrial offices that
were much smaller than the buildings in the warehouse block. No
towering ceilings that Drusilla loved because of the way strung
up bodies swung majestically from the rafters. This was once a
modest sized meeting or conference room. Although the table was
junk, the room itself was more to Spike's taste, comfortable,
open, easy to maneuver about in the wheelchair. The rest of the
furniture was relatively decent quality, the walls adorned with
several tasteful if slightly kinky original Dali lithographs.
There was even a closed liquor cabinet that Spike quickly unlocked
with the deft swing of an ax.

Clearly the business crowd that ran this operation had packed
up and left in a hurry - or been forced out in a "corporate
takeover." From a quick perusal of scattered sheets of the
company Secretary's minutes, Spike realized that these bigwigs
had bled the operation dry, in more ways than just financial.
Then upon closer examination of a shareholder's list, Spike stopped
and whistled. He recognized half a dozen serious demon names from
his less reputable haunts in Los Angeles.

Spike glanced down at the dusty carpet and noticed the scattered
blood stains and several chunks of human hair yanked out by the
scalp. He wouldn't have minded being a fly on the wall for that
last management/shareholder meeting. The vampire smiled and nodded.

"You blokes got what was coming to ya," he muttered
amused, "Serves you right for peeing off the shareholders."

Spike redirected his attention to Drusilla who stood by the
center of the long conference table. Several old volumes lay open
in front of her. One was the stolen notebook of Johannes Martel.
A modern white sheet of paper, covered in scribbles, sat on top
of the books. Two massive burning candles in large gaudy brass
candle holders were placed at either end of the table, and a curious
cobalt blue open jar filled with what appeared to be dust sat
midway between them. Drusilla, her arms upraised as if in the
middle of an incantation, swayed back and forth, her gyrations
matching the flickering of the candle flames.

As he gazed at her seductively sliding mid-section, Spike nodded
his head as he admitted to himself that he always like the way
Drusilla swayed. It was one of the rewards for catering to her
sometimes "off" desires and whims.

It had been a risk to sneak back to the old warehouse to collect
the dust of Johannes Martel, but Drusilla had a plan for the young
telekinetic who had briefly been the Slayer's lover. Even though
he rolled his eyes at the thought of one of Dru's "plans,"
Spike realized this one might have the possibility of stirring
up some entertaining action. And anything to do with a new love
for the Slayer would annoy the hell out of Angelus.

That was really why Spike was helping Drusilla raise the dust
of what was clearly a dangerous telekinetic, or "wizard"
as they used to call them in the older times. It was bound to
piss off Angelus, and that was always good for a lark.

Sitting in his wheelchair beside Drusilla, Spike waited patiently.
Angelus stood separately in the corner of the room and silently
snickered at the performance. There was a dead stillness as Drusilla
wiggled and waited in anticipation for something to happen. Nothing
did. She suddenly screamed and, in a fury, swept the Martel notebook,
the other volumes and the paper off onto the floor.

"Dru . . . temper," Spike said soothingly.

"Bad bastard Wizard!' Drusilla howled, "He did something
to the spells! I know it!"

"Dru, maybe it's just one enormous joke by your wiz friend,"
Angelus smiled sarcastically, "It's been over two hundred
years."

"No! I know they work!" Drusilla screamed. She then
looked down tearfully and shuddered, "He tried to use them
on me!"

"Dru," Spike said with just a touch of disapproval
in his voice as if he were disciplining a spoiled child, "You
remember what we agreed about bad memories?"

"We don't talk about them," she pouted.

"You've been at this for three weeks now," Spike
rolled his wheelchair up closer to her, "Let me look at the
spells and see if I can find any mistakes."

"No!" Drusilla snapped insulted, "I know my
reading and writing!"

"Dru, you haven't cracked a book in two centuries!"
Angelus smirked.

"Dru, darling," Spike said reassuringly as he ignored
Angelus, "The wizard will be all yours when you raise him
up. And then if you want you can share him. But we're not getting
anywhere this way."

"All right, Spike," Drusilla nodded with a scowl.

"Angelus, hand me the paper," Spike said, indicating
the modern paper covered in Drusilla's scribbles that had fallen
to the floor out of Spike's reach.

Angelus stared back at Spike in mock astonishment.

"You want me to wait on you! Oh, yeah, that's right. Anything
for a member of the family."

Angelus slunk out of his corner, picked up the piece of paper
with the spells on it and handed it towards Spike. At the last
second before Spike could take the sheet in his hand, Angelus
deliberately let it slide out of his fingers. He smiled as he
watched the paper flutter back to the floor at Spike's feet and
swaggered back to his corner. Glaring, Spike bent down from the
wheelchair and swept up Drusilla's spells.

". . . funny . . ." Spike growled through gritted
teeth.

"All the time," Angelus grinned maliciously.

Challenging Angelus wasn't worth the energy at this point,
so Spike turned his attention to the sheet of transcribed spells.
He started reading silently, then stopped and gave a little smirk.
Realizing Drusilla was watching his every move, Spike quickly
controlled himself. This was going to be delicate.

"Here's a tiny problem, Darling," he said gently
as he wiggled his finger for her to join him with the sheet of
paper.

"What?" Drusilla said nervously.

"See this little word here," he explained carefully
as Drusilla gazed over his shoulder, "It's supposed to be
'firmus.' You've got 'fimus.'"

"Doesn't make much difference does it?" Drusilla
pouted again.

Spike sighed.

"Only that instead of calling upon the universe's 'strong
powers,' you're calling upon its 'dung powers.'"

Angelus, who has been grinning through the entire explanation,
suddenly burst out laughing.

"Daddy should stop laughing at me!" Drusilla whined.

"Angelus, it's difficult enough as it is . . ." Spike
glowered.

"Sorry, I'll be good," Angelus snickered as he covered
his mouth with his hand.

"Now we just make that little change . . ." Spike
said, returning his attention to the spell.

In the corner, Angelus broke into another howl of laughter..

"I can't believe for three weeks she's been chanting to
the forces of the Universe to pour down upon us their Celestial
Manure!"

"Angelus!" Spike snarled. Between the two of them,
the raising was going to take forever at this rate.

"I wondered why nobody was curbing their dogs when I'd
go out for dinner. Ruined three pairs of shoes since Thursday!"
Angelus dissolved into giggles.

"The joke is getting really old, Angelus!" Spike
answered sarcastically then turned to Drusilla, "Ignore him,
Darling. Now are we ready to try again?"

Drusilla nodded sheepishly.

"All right, then," Spike nodded, "Let's tidy
up first."

Drusilla scooped up an armful of books off the floor and rearranged
them on the table. Angelus, arms crossed on his chest, slouched
against the wall in the corner and made no effort to help. Drusilla
realigned the two brass candlesticks with the cobalt blue glass
container between them.

"Go ahead, Dru darling," Spike nodded appreciatively,
"You can start."

Drusilla smiled a crooked grin, displaying her yellow teeth.
She took her place at the center of the table between the two
candles and raised her arms in supplication over the jar containing
the dust. Slowly, she began to chant. Spike winced at the occasional
mispronounced word.

"Vires firmi obscuritatis, audi me!
(Strong powers of Darkness, hear me!)
Vires firmi occulti mundi, audi me!
(Strong powers of the Universe, hear me!)
Renova pulvis in forma proprii!
(Recreate this dust in its original form!)
Surge! Sta! Vive! Iube te!
(Rise, stand and live! I command you!)"

There was a moment of silence during which Angelus almost broke
out into another fit of laughter. Suddenly there was a sound of
rushing air through the conference room although no wind affected
the candles. The dust in the jar began to stir and glow with a
faint blue light. Suddenly the particles whirled upwards in a
murky cloud. The glow from the spinning fragments illuminated
the room. Quickly the surging dust coalesced into a standing human
form that shivered and twisted as it came together. Drusilla squealed
with excitement while Spike nodded his approval.

In less than minute, the transformation was complete. As the
wind vanished away, the resurrected body collapsed inert. It lay
sprawled naked across the conference table and then slid off onto
the floor. The room was silent for a moment more.

"Sloppy entrance but serves the purpose," Spike said
as he scratched the back of his head.

Angelus was no longer laughing. At first he cowered in his
corner. Then, his face marked with fear, Angelus rushed over and
stared at the naked form lying before them. He nudged the body
with his foot to see if there was any reaction.

"I presume that's him," Spike said nonchalantly to
Drusilla.

"Ohh, Yes!" Drusilla clapped her hands and trembled
with excitement as she swept down beside the body. Angelus tapped
the pale flesh with his foot again. When nothing happened, in
evil glee, he landed a furious kick into the body's midsection.

"Daddy! NO!" Drusilla squalled.

"Ah, ah, ah, Angelus, no damaging the merchandise,"
Spike said waggling his finger.

"He's all mine again!" Drusilla shouted with glee
as she straddled the body beneath her. She bent down and licked
the upper torso and neck furiously like a mother cat stimulating
the life in a new born kitten.

The body lay still on the floor beneath her gyrating hips.
Spike rolled his eyes in disgust and sighed.

"Spike, something's wrong!" Drusilla suddenly howled
as she sat back up. She crawled off and knelt on the floor. Sadly
she poked the white flesh with her finger.

"He's not moving!" she whimpered.

"Dru, darling, this is only part one," Spike explained
patiently, "What we have is just a body, the shell. The burning
candles and the spell will keep it from disintegrating again.
We still have to raise up the mind to get access to his powers
and knowledge."

"You mean he didn't feel my little greeting just now?"
Angelus asked.

"Like kicking Play Dough," Spike grinned back. He
then spoke slowly for emphasis so that not a word would be lost
on the vampire, "You need part three to feel pain . . . the
soul. You should know that by now, Angelus."

"Aw, man!" Angelus snarled and stormed out of the
room.

"Spike? Can we raise up his mind now?" Drusilla cooed
as she ran her fingers across the naked torso, "Can we please?
Please?"

"Of course, Dru. Anything you like," Spike smiled
evilly as he stared at the body on the floor, "See how easy
it is . . . if you just ask nicely."

*****

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