Three Days, Three Nights - Act 1
Joshua Valtaine took in the breathtaking beauty of the sunset. The gentle wind washed over himself, his wife and their daughter. Dressed in their Sunday best, the three sat comfortably on the hillside watching the endless art of this incredible place.
Only Niki had some vague notion of where this was, as if she had been here before. The grass swayed gently and the scent of lavender and wild roses caught the wind. The clouds were spiked with a stunning magenta.
Samantha hugged her daughter snugly and shone a smile at her husband as they watched the never ending sunset – the symphony always reaching the crescendo, but never passing it. A universe on an edge...
Niki awoke from the familiar paradise into a terrifying nightmare. Pain flooded her senses as she tried unsuccessfully to move her head.
Struggling futilely, the Slayer’s eyes moved constantly through the darkness of the room. Her breath was rough and fast as the throbbing from her gut told her something was piercing her that wasn’t supposed to be there. She groaned as she twisted her head slightly, lances of pain issuing from her neck and throat. With a wave of lightheadedness, she ceased her struggles.
Night 1
Logan gently shook the Slayer’s shoulder, with a moan she focused her eyes on his. “Hey,” he said quietly, his eyes dark shadows in the dim room. His gentle squeeze, however, conveyed all he wanted to say. He glanced across her bound body, the bloodied silver spike protruding from her stomach and the silver pins sticking out under her chin. The unimposing drip, drip of the blood into the bucket under the table was a constant reminder of the passage of time.
“Where am I?” she croaked, feeling the horrible pressure of the silver bolts across her larynx.
“Don’t you remember?” he asked with a concerned expression, lost in the darkness. “We talked about this already. You’re on the Cure Table... the one we had built when you thought I was infected... remember?” Niki blinked. She had no recollection of that discussion.
“Why am I here?” she said hoarsely. Even though she didn’t know it, her throat was sore from screaming for hours earlier that night.
Logan’s brow furrowed. “You were infected,” he reminded her gently. “With the Nosphoric Plague. Do you remember that?” Niki made no indication that she did. Logan swallowed. “Do you remember killing Tom?” She nodded weakly, the unwanted memory of that gruesome morning filling her groggy mind. “It was a few weeks later,” Logan continued, “you were almost done rehab, we got a weird report from the Council– do you remember that?”
Niki closed her eyes and tried to think. The memory came to her. Someone had warned them that several Nosphorus had been discovered in Europe and that there might be more in America. “I remember that,” she said hoarsely.
Logan nodded. “And we decided that it would be best if you were cured before we fought any kind of battle with them.”
Niki’s eyes suddenly grew wide. “Pierce– where is he?”
Logan nodded, calming her down. “It’s okay, I know Pierce is a Nosphorus. He’s the one who infected you. I’ve been watching him for weeks now. He’s agreed to let me tie him up whenever he feeds. He’s not a threat.”
“Don’t trust him,” the Slayer argued, shifting her shoulder to lessen the burning pain through her throat. Each word was like swallowing a razor blade. Another wave of dizziness washed over her. The drip, drip, drip of her own blood into the bucket finally registered. “How long do I have to stay here?” she asked.
Logan glanced down, almost as if he was afraid to answer. Each time she woke up, there was no telling what she would remember. “Three more days,” he said apologetically. When she closed her eyes, he sighed and held the hypodermic needle to the light cast by the small window. Tapping it gently to separate the bubbles, he squirted some out, then proceeded to inject her with the antibiotic to prevent infection... of the normal kind.
The Slayer winced at the needle prick. “What day is it?” she asked almost inaudibly.
Logan slowly drew the needle from her bound arm. “It’s February twenty first,” he said gently, “... nineteen eighty six,” he added just in case. After a pause, he glanced down at his light-up digital watch. “Two sixteen in the morning.”
At this, she opened her eyes and tried her best to look directly at him. “What about your family?” she asked, her voice like tires on gravel, still – the worry was evident.
Logan brought his finger to her lips. “Shhh, go to sleep. You don’t need to worry about anything but getting better.”
“But Pierce—” she countered, her arms tugging against their bonds.
“—is no threat,” Logan said reassuringly. “No General means this army has no leader: Pierce is under control.”
Niki nodded, then painfully realized she would never attempt that again. She closed her eyes in the darkness of the back room of the Nail Biter, trying to get back to that paradise of the final breath. Logan quietly let himself out.
Day 1
Pierce took a deep breath and gently touched the Slayer’s shoulder. He was confined to the Nail Biter until sundown anyway, he might as well take some responsibility. Ever with his sadistic side, he winced as the Slayer awoke again to realize the agony of simple consciousness.
Her eyes opened and she let out a low groan. Her hands made fists as her eyes found the face of the vampire. “What?” she ground out. The fewer words the better.
Pierce slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, his silver bracelet falling free from his sleeve. With a sudden rush of panic, he snatched his hand back and staggered away from the bound Slayer. The vision the vampire in the park had shown him came back to him – the Slayer waking from her table... a table identical to this - and staking him without a thought.
Just as quickly as the vision overtook him, it was gone. He sheepishly tucked the bracelet back into the sleeve of his jacket and approached her again. He knew she couldn’t see very far on either side of her, what with the silver pins purifying her bloodstream of the virus...
“What?” she prompted, worry creeping into her voice.
Pierce shook his head. “Nothing... Look, I just wanted to say: I’m sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow - the only amount of acknowledgment she was willing to give.
“I’m sorry for infecting you. I didn’t know what I was doing...” he made a little ironic chuckle. “I- I don’t even know when I was infected. But I want you to know that I’m not a threat.” He moved a little closer, swallowing hard. “I- I know you don’t really like me...” She rolled her eyes but said nothing. “When Addison came to me– wanted me to look after you for him,” he shrugged, realizing how lame that sounded, “I agreed...” he winced, shaking his wrist, “not for this,” the bracelet jingled and glinted in the dim light from the window. “I wanted you to respect me... I wanted to be someone again.” He looked at her quickly, as if fearing she would laugh in his face.” As it was, the vampire couldn’t read her expression. She seemed to be sizing him up, as if trying to see if he were telling the truth. He raised his chin slightly under her scrutiny, as a suspect maintaining his innocence.
The vampire took a deep breath. "Just this once," he said with some small amount of resentment, "I'm going to talk about my past." He settled himself into a nostalgic place of comfort, finally ridding that part of him he had always worried they'd discover about him.
"I was sired about seventy years ago," he began, swallowing at the memory of the times then. "You don't need to know anything about my life before then: just that I wasn't anybody special. A social reject. Then my life changed... ended, really. In a forest outside my ranch." He glanced down from his reverie to see her watching him. Her expression was difficult to determine, but to think she had any sympathy for him was an assumption Pierce was not willing to make.
"My sire was the only model for behavior I had to work with." He gave a small laugh. "I found out later he was actually totally insane. At the time I had believed him when he said he was a king in exile from some distant dynastic Persian land. I followed his every move and did everything he told me," Pierce squinted at the Slayer, "I mean everything."
"I became his son, or so he said, and he started calling me Prince." Pierce licked his lips. He was sickened now to think of his innocence in those days. Leopold, his sire, had raised him as if to be a vampire was synonymous with being royalty. "When years later I finally met another vampire, I was totally thrown off. They didn't respect me," he scoffed, "they didn't treat me the way my sire had taught me to expect to be treated..."
Pierce swallowed hard, considering whether or not to continue with his story at all. Niki's gaze was utterly locked on this vampire with a story. She had never considered that a vampire might feel about his unlife the way she did about her life. That it had been one mistake - one regret after another.
"When they finally respected me," Pierce said with a hard look in his eyes, "they were already calling me Pierce, because..." he ground his teeth together, his brow furrowing, "because everyone knew that I staked any vampire who crossed me."
Niki blinked. Though it was difficult to summon up much in the way of pathos for this vampire who had killed likely hundreds, and significantly more difficult to speak, she opened her mouth and drew the pain across her throat. "What was your name?" She swallowed. "Before."
Pierce looked down at her for a long moment. These were things he had never intended to tell anyone. Things he had never intended to even remember again. Now they were carried outside his own memories: as immortal as himself. "My name," he said slowly, "was Samuel. I was twenty two."
Finally she swallowed and gave the barest nod, pursing her lips and drawing a cleansing breath. Realizing this caused a stabbing pain through her gut, she coughed and let it out with a groan. Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. She hated this. Swallowing painfully she couldn’t help but think what a crappy Slayer she had turned out to be. Addison had left, putting –admittedly unwanted– trust in her: letting her work without a net. What had she accomplished? She’d failed to prevent the Nosphorus from infiltrating the city. She’d almost got Logan killed when Birk had infiltrated them, fooling her completely. She’d got herself KO’d with a stupid Aztec trinket. She’d nearly killed Logan again when she’d thought he was infected... She scolded herself in her mind: All her delusions about Logan’s behavior: all the signs pointing to him as the Plague sufferer... they were all so clearly indicating the exact same thing about herself and Pierce. Then she’d gone postal thinking that medallion Birk’s partner had given her was some kind of magic... Then she’d been so dense that she couldn’t see what Stuff was doing to her. Somehow, Logan had pulled her through all these times: had forgiven her each time.
At that exact moment, a tear managed to break free from the corner of her eye and roll down to the tip of her ear. She blinked. How the hell had she been willing to let him go? Her eyes flicked to the vampire standing next to her: asking for her forgiveness. For her acceptance. All he’d ever wanted from her was what she couldn’t even give herself. She blinked again. All she could see through the tear that was working its way across her vision was the dark shirt and the silver KISS emblazoned across it.
She opened her hand and she felt his fingers interlace with her own. Though her hand was bound at the wrist, she managed to close her hand around his. She squeezed.
The tear leapt free and her vision cleared, all thoughts of forgiveness gone. The thing in the KISS shirt squeezed back, hearing the cracking his force created.
“Hello, doll,” the Nosphorus grinned. It had been waiting, all these weeks... Soon all would be ready.
Logan looked down at his drink, considering their entire situation. As Diego took his glass, refilling it, Logan glanced up to the mirror, seeing in its reflection the door to the back room.
Beyond that door, he imagined, was Niki, deciding whether or not to forgive Pierce: whether or not to trust him.
“You know I wouldn’t be doing this,” the big bar owner said gruffly, “if I didn’t know for a fact that we’re going to need that little girl-scout sooner or later.” He spun the cap back onto the crystal bottle. “You three have done nothing but damage to my bar - and its staff - for the last eight months.” Diego let out a harsh chuckle. “I’m actually having to look for new employees since word got around what happened to old Tom. Look!” he scoffed. “Demons used to be lined up around the block to work here. Now look at me!” Diego scrubbed the bar sullenly.
Logan, who was listening to none of this, was staring at the reflection in the mirror. Something was nagging at him: a feeling. He’d missed something. His eyes shifted to the side for an instant, then grew wide as the thought crystallized: Nosphorus.
Logan jumped from his stool: He’d left the book of the Nosphorus in the warehouse months ago when everyone had been after him. That book would be very useful now that the threat was beginning to reemerge. He slapped some money, including a hefty tip, on the bar and dashed out of the bar.
Niki and Pierce would just have to get along without him for a while.
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
