Chapter 7
Patchwork Souls
Pain.
Darkness.
(I can’t see.)
Things tight, binding, cutting into skin.
(I can’t move.)
Struggling, heat.
(My face)
Voices now, talking, getting louder, a bright light, pain.
(HELP ME!)
Alec lurched up out of bed, screaming. Willow and Giles grabbed for his left arm, as blades erupted out of the skin of his right arm, which was lashed down just for this reason.
“Alec!” Giles yelled, trying to get his wounded son under control. Alec looked up at him with his one eye through the mask of bandages.
“Shhh!” Willow tried to soothe, stroking his forehead though there was precious little skin left uncovered by gauze.
A tear, a snap and the bonds surrounding Alec’s right arm were torn free. He lurched up, waving the bladed appendage at them, eyes wide yet not seeing, still locked in whatever nightmare he had woken from. The pair backed away hurriedly as Faith hurried into the room.
“D!” she cried out. Like a terrified animal, Alec lurched out of bed attempting to stand. His legs folded under him like wilted flowers. Vainly he tried to steady himself on a wooden table. His bladed arm dug into it knocking it over and spilling a bowl of water and a mirror to the stone floor. All shattered, spraying him with cold water, he fell hard upon the broken glass cutting himself.
“Alec,” Willow whispered kneeling next to him, careful to avoid the bladed arm, now embedded solidly into the broken remains of the table as Alec looked at himself for the first time in the jagged shards of mirror strewn upon the floor
Nearly his entire face was bandaged, both of his eyes were swollen, one had been ruptured; even now his sclera was a bloody red. His nose had been badly broken and was swathed in bandages. He had several stitches in his face; his jaw was swollen and purple, also bandaged.
Trembling he touched his mutilated face with his fingers, then pulled away as he noticed that he was smearing blood on his soiled bandages. He looked down at his hand and saw a single glittering piece of glass protruding from his palm. The blades retracting from his right arm as his fear and terror gave way to something else, he slowly pulled the glass shard from his palm, grimacing. For a moment he held the piece of red glass before his eyes, his friends and family exchanging worried looks. Numbly the glass fell from his shaking fingers and landed upon the pile of shards, splattering blood upon them. Alec looked down at them and now saw his broken face, tainted with his own blood reflected a thousand times.
Staring right up at him.
And with a low rising wail, Alec slumped as his spirit broke in horror at what the last 24 hours had done to him. Willow grabbed him before he impaled his face upon the pile of broken glass and held him as he sobbed bitterly.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured rocking him back and forth. Giles and Faith stepped forth to help him to their feet. Alec’s ruined legs could not support him but they managed to get him back on the cot, Willow kissing his face gently. Alec whimpered and tried to cover his face in shame with his bloody hands. Willow gently pushed them aside as Faith took his bloody hand and cleaned and redressed it. Alec looked away tears running down his face, though no longer weeping, staring at nothing. Willow gently turned his head to face her,
“Hey, stay with me,” she whispered, “Please? I need you here,” She could only just meet his gaze; it was the look of one who had lost all will to live. For someone who had been as strong and vital as her lover, it was devastating to see. Faith finished with Alec’s hand and Willow took it from her, cradling it and placing a kiss on a patch of bare skin,
“I love you,” she whispered. Alec didn’t blink, his expression remained broken, but his hand did tighten around hers just slightly. Willow smiled as Giles rested a hand on his son’s shoulder,
“Son…” he whispered. Alec didn’t react but his heavily bandaged head turned slightly against the pillow toward his father’s voice. Giles took that as a good sign and squeezed his son’s shoulder.
Faith smiled at Alec, “Hey D, welcome back to the land of the living,” she quipped. Alec turned towards the sound, the only sign that he acknowledged anyone had spoken to him. Willow looked up at the two of them,
“Let everyone know he’s awake but tell them he needs his rest. How’s Buffy doing?” she asked Giles. Giles stuck his hands in his jeans and turned his head,
“She seems to be recovering well,” he replied carefully, “Though she too needs a goodly amount of rest,” Buffy had regained consciousness a few days ago, “She’s sleeping now, Spike’s with her,” he finished. Willow nodded and turned to Faith,
“How Ange-?” Suddenly, Willow gasped as Alec’s hand tightened painfully around hers. His breathing became rapid; his eyes opened wide in fear as a low moan of fear and pain came spilling out of his mouth. Willow’s heart leapt into her throat even as she pushed aside the pain in her hand to squeeze back.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him. With agonizing slowness, Alec turned his mutilated face towards Faith. Faith exchanged a confused and panicked look with Giles before answering quickly,
“He’s fine!” she blurted out hurriedly, “We had to dig out a hell of a lot of lead out of his gut but he’s okay!” Willow turned in understanding to face Alec. His face remained pale and taunt for a moment, but then Faith’s words sank in and he relaxed. His death grip upon Willow’s hand relaxed and though her first instinct was to pull away and cradle her wounded appendage, Willow merely held her lover’s hand, giving no indication as to being injured in the least.
“It must have gotten beyond hairy in that cop-house,” Faith murmered. Willow cradled Alec’s broken face sadly taking in his vacant stare of empty despair,
“Yes, it was,” she replied quietly. Alec leaned his head into her touch slightly but his eyes never blinked and never warmed.
“So how is he?” Spike asked Faith a few minutes later. Faith looked over at him,
“He had his face pulverized, he was tortured and now he’s crippled. How would YOU be?” she replied testily. Spike shot her an ugly look,
“I don’t know, let me remember what it was like to have a bloody pipe organ dropped on me and be forced to spend months in a wheelchair while your mooching son of a bitch grandsire makes moves on your girl before I answer,” he snarled back. Faith’s eyes widened,
“Who dropped a pipe organ on you?” she asked amazed.
“Guilty,” Buffy put forth, meekly raising her hand, “But in my defense he was evil at the time. He was trying to kill Angel,”
“Not like the great poof didn’t deserve it,” Spike replied.
“He, ANGEL, never hit on your lady of the straitjacket; it wasn’t until he became Angelus that that happened,”
“Yeah, and let’s all remember who’s responsible for THAT too!” Spike snapped Buffy flinched remembering her role in Angel’s degradation into Angelus all those years ago. Spike saw the look on her still bruised and slightly battered face and sighed reaching out to cup her cheek tenderly,
“I’m sorry love, I still have a bloody hangover from that spell Red threw and I’m a little strung out from fun at the 56th precinct,” he explained apologetically; Buffy blinking back the hurt from her face, smiled bravely and took Spike’s hand in hers squeezing it.
“You’re a bad, rude man,” Buffy quipped quietly. Spike chuckled and kissed her,
“I know I’ve heard that somewhere before too,” he replied, gently chucking her chin. Buffy smiled and turned to everyone else.
They were all assembled in Buffy’s bedroom. Buffy was still in bed, sitting propped up with pillows and leaning against the wall, a few bandages still on her face and arm, which was currently in a sling pressed against her chest. Spike was sitting next to her and occasionally offering restful support. Everyone else, except Angel, Willow and Alec were arrayed around the room, either in chairs, sitting on the floor or leaning against the wall.
“I think we need to get out of here,” Xander put forth, he turned to Giles, “Can your new girlfriend put us up for a few?” he asked wryly. Giles coughed and glared at him, shaking his head,
“I don’t think Alec can be safely moved yet, his wounds are still quite sensitive. The fact that his healing factor has not yet healed them suggests that there was extensive internal damage. He was, quite literally, nearly beaten to death,” Giles’ fist became white knuckled and his jaw clenched so tightly the sound of porcelain grinding against each other filled the room as he thought of what his son had been put through.
“Giles. Chill. I’m tweaking too, but we need to get our heads clear,” Buffy said sternly,
“You didn’t’ see him fresh out of there Buffy,” Dawn replied quietly looking up at her sister, “You don’t know,” Buffy glared at her,
“No, I didn’t, but I saw him get pummeled in the Nightmare Realm and take a bullet so I think that I’m allowed to talk about it,” she replied harshly, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the only one who’s pissed.” Dawn said nothing for a while then nodded,
“Sorry,” she replied sullenly going back to stare at the floor. Buffy sighed as Giles cleared his throat and nodded,
“Buffy’s right. Rage won’t help us now. What we need to do is figure out what’s next in acquiring the Worldless Psalm and the blood of the Neverborn and dealing with the Hellmouth,”
“Okay, so how do we do that?” Xander asked, “Our only lead was the Rabbi and he’s come down with a slight case of missing his face,” he commented. Anya frowned,
“Wasn’t Satara the one who recommended the rabbi in the first place?” She asked. Spike’s head jerked up and he sent a look to Faith, who was sending the same one back to him,
“Think she set us up?” he asked quietly.
“Only one way to find out,” she replied. Spike sighed,
“And after giving the performance of my unlife. No appreciation for talent,” he sighed. Giles held up a hand,
“Satara was recommended to us by Marlena. I for one refuse to believe that Marlena would send us to someone who would lead us into a trap,” he stated sternly. Spike glared over at him,
“This glowing endorsement wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you and she played “hide the tweed” a while back, would it?” he snorted. Giles’s face darkened more and he advanced on the vampire. Spike started to get up, ready for war when Buffy pulled him back down to the bed.
“Spike, enough,” Buffy warned. Spike gestured angrily at Giles,
“How are we supposed to trust this woman? What, because Captain Librarian here and she had a nice silver-haired snog, that makes this woman some kind of saint?”
“I trust her Spike. Do you trust me?” Buffy asked sternly. Spike stopped, then sighed and sat back down on the bed, muttering darkly. Giving Spike another reproachful look, Buffy turned to Giles,
“Giles I don’t think Marlena would steer us wrong, but Spike has a point. Satara may have Keyser Soze’d her. At any rate it’s worth following up. Maybe there’s something at that temple that can help us. A diary, journal of the Rabbi before he had his face removed; something that can help us.”
“And who gets to run this charming little errand? Shadow Boy was the only one of us who could both fight worth a damn and had half a brain towards the heebie jeebie stuff,” Spike put in dourly.
“I’ll go,” Giles said quietly. Spike looked at him agog.
“With that flesh thing still wandering out there, probably right now making new friends…literally and then driving them murderously insane?” He asked, stunned. Giles nodded,
“That’s right,” the Watcher replied calmly. Spike looked at him, then exhaled, chuckling, shaking his head,
“I take it back, forget the tweed. Balls of British steel indeed,” he quipped lightly before getting to his feet, “But don’t be thinking you’re the only one Mother Britannia so generously endowed. I’m in,” he finished. There were wry chuckles around the room,
“Steel huh?” Faith asked. Spike winked,
“That’s right, let lesser men and the French settle for brass,”
“God save the queen,” Xander cracked quietly. A few more quiet laughs, more to relieve the stress and despair pushing in on them all rather than from actual humor as Spike shrugged on his duster,
“Right then, let’s go perpetrate a felony,” he grinned enthusiastically, “or does breaking into temple count as sacrilege?’
“Spike, you may trust me when I say, your every act constitutes both,” Giles informed tiredly. Spike grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder,
“Thanks mate, I love you too,” he laughed. Giles groaned as Faith spoke up,
“Yo G, are you going to need some muscle?” she asked. Giles shook his head,
“With Angel, Alec and Buffy all on the mend, we need you to stay here just in case…”
“In case DeGanon tries to kill us all,” Spike finished. Faith grimaced and nodded,
“Hardcore. Got it,” she declared. Privately she wondered really how badly she’d need to stay here when they had a murderously powerful witch available. She kept these musings and fears though to herself for the moment.
“Guys? No heroics,” Buffy warned them, “You see anyone with a face like Silly Putty, get the hell out of there,” Giles nodded as Spike grinned,
“Luv, if I see anyone with a face like Silly Putty, I’ll know I’m on Madison Avenue, I plan on shopping.”
“Ah the joys of Botox, life without facial expressions,” Xander chuckled as he gestured at Spike, “Maybe they can recommend a good nip/tuck clinic, get rid of those unsightly forehead ridges,”
More laughter as Spike made the classic obscene hand gesture. Xander put a hand over his heart,
“Spike, wherever did you learn such a thing?”
“Remember those nuns you cut off on the freeway? They were doing it while howling expletives at you,” Spike answered.
“Oh yeah,” Xander nodded in mock realizations, “I’d forgotten,”
“Honey, I spent a thousand years as a demon and even I wasn’t about to forget some of the words those old women were using,” Anya put in, kissing his cheek. More laughter as Spike held us hands,
“Yes yes, I’m a master of comedy. Time to go be brave,”
“Be careful,” Buffy said quietly. Spike nodded, peering out the door into the seemingly empty hallway in the gypsy stronghold.
“Yeah, you too luv,” he replied meaningfully. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,”
Giles frowned, “I didn’t know you had read Sun Tzu, Spike.” Spike shook his head,
“Naw mate. Vito Corleone,” Spike chuckled. Giles sighed,
“Yes. Of course. Why read the book when a movie is so much less high-impact,” Spike chortled.
“Damn right,” he replied before turning serious pointing at Buffy,
“Watch out for Romani bearing knives,”
“Watch out for fleshdancer bearing…hands. Okay that didn’t work,” Buffy sputtered, “just-“
“Be careful, I got it pet,” Spike flashed thumbs-up and headed out.
The bar was, of course, rocking. Deep bass rumbles blasted through oversized speakers as Spike and Giles entered. Purple and blue mini spotlights, mounted upon the ceiling bobbed in time to the music bathing the crowd in pulsing light as vampire and Watcher made their way down the upraised terrace that served as entrance to the club down to the main floor.
“YEAH!” Spike growled, getting a real charge out of the deafening music and good party. Giles grabbed his jacket,
“Stay focused!” Giles yelled. Spike grinned and cupped a hand over his ear, pretending not to be able to hear,
“Eh?” he asked. Giles glared hard at him and practically dragged him through the crowded dance floor, past demons, vampires and humans alike. Girls of all species mounted on poles and upon the bar writhed and occasionally poured pitchers of water…as well as blood, upon both themselves and the audience. Spike grinned and laid his head on the bar staring up at one of the demon girls, a creature with deep blue skin, red hair wearing a porcelain mask and little else, standing over him with a pitcher of blood.
“Fill us up love,” he instructed. The porcelain mask’s features shifted seamlessly to grin at him as the girl raised a perfectly formed foot to his cheek when Spike was jostled hard from behind. Whirling around, the enraged vampire lashed out a fist and clobbered a very inebriated Tak demon into the next world. Turning back his attention to the girl upon the bar…only to witness her attentions have shifted elsewhere.
“Bugger,” he muttered. Giles came up to him just then,
“How is it going?” he asked.
“Miserable. This incredible demon girl was about to perform a Santanico Pandemonium for me until some clumsy oaf-“
“Did you find Satara?” Giles asked impatiently. Spike shook his head,
“Not as of yet, no” Spike confessed,
“Well if you’d stop oogling dancing girls instead of doing something useful!” Giles roared, Spike actually looked taken aback for a moment, before holding up a single finger,
“One second,” he said to the furious man. Walking back up to the blue-skinned dancer, he beckoned for her to kneel down, flashing a twenty. A few words were exchanged as well as five more twenty-dollar bills before Spike nodded satisfied and headed back to Giles,
“Satara’s in the back, behind the piranha aquarium over yonder,” he calmly informed the dumbstruck librarian, pointing at the far end of the club.
“What did you do?” Giles asked skeptically. Spike shrugged as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it,
“A hundred and twenty bucks convinced her that I was a talent scout,” he replied before turning to address the other man, “Never doubt the usefulness of oogling a dancing girl, mate.” Spike smirked and headed to the back leaving a somewhat humbled Giles to catch up.
As they approached the door, A Fyarl demon stepped forward to impose himself before the pair,
“No enter,” it growled glaring down at the smaller vampire. Spike turned to look at Giles who shrugged, then turned back to look up at the demon. Exhaling a final puff of smoke he tossed the cigarette down in front of the demon. The demon looked down at it, arching a fleshy ridge of skin where an eyebrow would be.
Spike looked up at him
And smiled.
The Fyarl demon roared in pain and rage as Spike dunked its head into the top of the piranha for a third time. The voracious fish tore tiny chunks from the creature’s face and head at a blinding speed. The water was turning a murky black as bits and pieces of mauled tissue and blood floated to the surface.
After a few moments, Spike hoisted him up, bleeding, coughing, and sputtering,
“Now then, we need to talk to Satara,” Spike casually told the demon. The demon roared, spittle flying out from his bleeding maw as it hurled out a flurry of insults including Spike’s lineage, his relationship with his mother and portions of his anatomy. Spike shook his head sorrowfully,
“You are more right than you know, mate,” Spike lamented forlornly before dunking the bleeding creature back into the black water and the voracious fish within.
“Oh, come on!” A voice called out. Spike and Giles turned around from the grim spectacle of slowly feeding the demon to the fish to see Satara. A single clawed hand frantically tried to push Spike away. Without taking his attention from the demon woman, Spike casually stuffed the flailing hand into the tank adding a new octave to the demon’s screams,
“Do you know how hard it is to get Fyarl out of a fish tank filter?” she asked peevishly. Giles adjusted his glasses,
“We must speak with you, it’s quite urgent,” he told her calmly. Satara nodded,
“Yes, I can see that. I imagine you’re not feeding my bouncer to flesh-eating fish for fun,”
“I’m having fun,” Spike put in grinning. Satara sighed as she noticed both that the water was getting very, very dark and the demon was starting to struggle a lot less.
“Oh, for the love of Tiamat, fish him out of there before he drowns. Do you know how hard it is to find a Fyarl demon dumb enough to work for breadsticks?” she asked peevishly.
“I don’t know, I used to employ a few that worked for chewing gum. Claimed it did wonders to aid in their mucous issues,” Spike threw a wry look at Giles,
“See? I wasn’t lying about that,” Spike gloated to the man who had spent a little time as a Fyarl demon.
“I’m thrilled beyond words, Spike. Fish him out,” Spike rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation before hauling the demon out and tossing him to the floor, coughing and sputtering, as well as bleeding profusely.
“Fascinating buggers, piranha are. Fun fact about them, they have no taste for the undead, much like wasps, but toss them a nice chewy demon full of all those yummy living juices and…” Spike finished with a grin, examining his completely undamaged hand.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re a regular genius, come into my office and we can discuss your methods of payment for the upcoming stomach pumping for thirty-odd Amazonian piranha,” Spike snorted and followed Satara into her office as Giles closed the door behind them.
“Let me guess, you’re here because you’re wondering whether or not I set your friends up, right?” Satara calmly asked them. The pair was taken aback for a moment at her directness before nodding,
“Yes we are,” Giles replied coolly. Satara sighed and nodded,
“Okay, yes I wasn’t being straight with you but no, I didn’t set you up,” she gestured and a pair of empty chairs, “Please sit,” She smiled wryly when they hesitated “Trust me you have nothing to worry about, my heaviest hitter just got turned into fish food by short, blond, and vicious here,” she finished with a self-deprecating chuckle, gesturing at Spike. Spike grinned in spite of himself,
“Yeah well, the dumb blighter had it coming,” he replied as he and Giles took their seats.
“Yes, how dare he attempt to do his job and keep violently homicidal vampires from barging in on me,” she sighed then “Okay back to the topic at hand: I thought maybe this rabbi, Mesha Loeb, could help you out. He was always in here asking questions about all kinds of weird stuff so, you know?”
“The rabbi was in here?” Giles asked, puzzled. The demon nodded,
“Thought it was pretty weird to see this old guy all in black with these dreadlocks-,”
“Peyos,” Giles informed her. She nodded,
“Right well, whatever, coming in here and asking about reanimation and necromancy and souls. Saw him actually talking to a few of these cultists, Lazarene I think. Weird bunch,” she frowned as Giles and Spike exchanged a look, “You know I haven’t seen too many of them around lately,” she mused.
“That’s because they were decimated by our mates,” Spike informed her. Satara’s green eyes widened,
“There was like, five score and ten in that necrophyliacs fan club!” she exclaimed.
“We sent some heavy artillery to deal with that,” Spike replied evenly, grinning in pride at his lovers’ and friends’ prowess in battle,
“Yeah, and see that was part of the reason why I wanted you to come and go as soon as possible, you were packing a LOT of supernatural firepower and that makes me nervous,” Satara explained.
“If we can get back on track here,” Giles interrupted, “You said the rabbi himself was in here talking to members of the Cult of Lazarus asking questions about reanimation?” Satara nodded,
“Well, to be honest, first it was his assistant, called himself a ‘student of the Talmud,’”
“An apprentice rabbi, interesting,” Giles nodded thoughtfully putting his fingers under his chin in thought, “This young man was the first contact?”
“Right up until he disappeared and Rabbi Mesha started coming in himself, yeah,” Satara confirmed. Giles’s dark expression grew darker,
“I see,” he replied. Spike frowned,
“Okay, someone explain to me why we all have our tragedy masks in place please?” he asked. Giles fairly leapt to his feet, ignoring the blond vampire,
“Thank you Satara,” Satara frowned,
“You look worried. Hey, are we cool? You’re not going to send, like, your slayers or your son to come make life difficult for me are you?” she asked worriedly.
“What? Oh, no, no of course not, we’re fine,” Giles replied absentmindedly as he headed to the door. Spike and Satara exchanged confused looks before the former got to his feet and headed out,
“Hold on a moment,” Spike yelled following the rapidly retreated form of Giles. Giles jerked the door open-
Only to duck as a bandaged Fyarl demon roared at him lunging with hands outstretched. Giles wasted no time, kneeling and sending a powerful blow to the creature’s groin. There was a loud ‘crunch’ followed by a primal scream of agony from the demon as it folded over, clutching its ruined anatomy. Before Spike or Satara could even gasp, Giles grabbed the creature by its horn, taking advantage of its temporary off-balance helplessness and using its own considerable weight against it, twisted, pivoted and propelled the creature straight into the aquarium.
It had time to scream once before it impacted with the glass. An explosion of water and glass followed by a geyser of tiny, biting teeth signaled the destruction of the aquarium as the Fyarl demon fell to the soaking floor and writhed, a dozen or so pirhana embedded in its skin and chewing furiously,
“Holy shi-!” Spike gaped, looking at the destruction.
“Come on!” Satara wailed looking at the destruction. Giles turned to Spike,
“We’re leaving,” Giles replied calmly, casually kicking aside a gasping fish near his foot that was trying to bite him.
“Aye aye, Ripper,” Spike replied dumbfounded. Then he began to cackle,
“That was beautiful! Holy God!” Spike clapped, stepping over the wreckage and following Giles out the door.
“Whoa, hold on; hold up, what’s going on?” Spike asked other man. Giles sighed and stopped, allowing the vampire to catch up,
“The Jewish Tradition, especially the branches of Orthodox and Hasidism are very strict about what is and is not acceptable behavior,” Giles began, Spike waved it away,
“Yeah, yeah, this is the same religion that ensures I can’t get a decent cheeseburger in half of New York,” Spike replied flippantly. Giles whirled on him,
“For God sake’s listen to me! And shut up!” Giles yelled. Spike wisely did both.
“The Jewish tradition has one of the oldest and most mystically powerful histories of any of the religions; The Talmud, the Torah, the Kabbalah; each one of these books have been considered at one time or another a source of extraordinary magical power. For those who are properly trained in understanding, decoding and applying the text, it is a source of enormous supernatural prowess,”
“Oh come on!” Spike laughed, “You don’t honestly think Rabbi Joey or whatever actually managed to create…” he stopped as he noticed Giles’ expression,
“It’s been done before Spike. In 1580 in Prague, a rabbi and two of his assistants, in an attempt to prevent a murderous priest from launching a mob against the Jewish Quarter constructed what texts call “a man of earth and clay” to protect them. Now history is vague here but it is believed that something went awry either during the ritual of creation or afterwards.”
“Awry as in…” Spike asked now looking worried,
“As in the invincible creature went on a murderous rampage killing dozens of people before it was destroyed through unknown means,”
“So what has you worried is that the good rabbi may have been trying to create an invincible juggernaut of death.” Spike pondered that a moment, “Yeah all right, I’ll admit that’s something to warrant a measure of concern, mate,”
“Taxi!” Giles cried out. A dingy yellow cab pulled up,
“Yo, where you headed?” the cabbie asked.
“Fifth avenue and 92nd street and quickly!” Giles urged as he opened the door turning to Spike.
“No, I’m worried that Rabbi Mesha, the real Rabbi Mesha may have indeed created something and now that he’s dead its loose and completely out of control,”
Spike stopped at that thought. A berserk juggernaut of death, nearly invulnerable, that the world had not seen for the last four hundred plus years, and its creator, the only person capable of reigning it in, dead as three-week-old Chinese food.
“Oh…sod!” he muttered before getting into the cab.
Giles and Spike crept underneath the soiled yellow police tape surrounding the ruins of what had once been the synagogue.
“I can’t believe we’re coming back here,” Spike muttered as he cast his eyes back and forth. Far from the tranquil feeling they had all experienced upon first seeing it, in what felt like a hundred lifetimes ago, now there was the scent of death and violence in the air. Buffy and Alec’s experience within the Nightmare Realm, the police, the Dahaka, all of it had left some kind of…emotional bloodstain that gave Spike the creeps,
“We need to see if Rabbi Mesha left some kind of diary, a journal, any kind of evidence that would point to whether or not he has in fact created a golem,” Giles replied. They reached the large wooden doors, now pitted with bullet holes from the police and chained heavily,
“Spike, if you would?” Giles asked politely. Spike sighed, and then hauled himself up the stairs towards the looming door. Swallowing his fear, he spit on his hands, he took hold of the dirty chains and with a grunt yanked hard, snapping them. Tossing them aside he gripped the door handles and pulled hard.
A gust of air, Spike winced expecting the stench of decay,
“Ugh!” he exclaimed then frowned. There was no scent of decay, only the scent of a strange and oddly pleasing incense, “Wait, no, no ugh, confusion,” Spike frowned and peered inside, Giles coming up beside him,
The temple had been cleaned up nicely. From what Buffy had told them about their expulsion from the Nightmare realm, the two men expected a mess of shattered glass and dried blood. Instead the stones of the floor were clean; the ruined stained glass window was boarded up and the candles were lit. Spike gestured to the boarded up window, a good thirty feet up in the air,
“Hey, how do you suppose someone got up there and fixed that?” He asked wryly.
“Oh, I imagine, with wings,” Giles replied. Spike frowned, there was an odd, strained note in the man’s voice and it took Spike a moment to place it: fear. He turned,
“What are you on about ma-?” he stopped as Giles simply pointed.
Looming above them both was the silhouette of a creature backlit and projected in front of them; Horns, claws, and great bat-like wings that extended with a ‘whoosh’ of air. The candles in the temple flickered as the shadow of the creature spread out to overcome the pair past them and all the way up to halfway above the alter at the far end of the temple. Spike sighed,
“It’s big, isn’t it?” he asked. Giles nodded,
“Yes.”
“And right behind us?”
“Yes Spike I believe it is,”
There was a low growl and the sound of claws on stone,
“It doesn’t sound happy to see us,” Spike observed.
“No, no it isn’t Spike,” Giles confirmed. Spike sighed
“Oh well, might as well go say hi,” Spike casually turned around, Giles more slowly. Both men looked up to second floor balcony,
It was like a vision from Dante. Huge and powerful muscles, dark skin looking as though it had been blasted in fire. Large talons easily capable of gutting a man, a powerfully muscled chest, thick neck, and a large head complete with a mouth full of sharp pointy teeth and an impressive set of horns tapered to glistening point,
“Wow,” Spike said, impressed. Giles simply nodded as the creature stepped off the balcony it had been perched upon and landed surprisingly gracefully before them, blocking the exit. Its clawed feet dug into the stone floor with the crunching sound of grinding rock.
Up close, and no longer backlit, the pair could examine the creature more completely. It appeared to be a patchwork creation. Several different skin tones were stitched together expertly, creating a latticework of bone, sinew and flesh. Even the pupils of the eye seemed to be a composite, stitches running through the sclera, creating a bizarre multicolored look to the eyes.
“Well, I guess that answers whether or not the rabbi made something,” Spike quipped dryly in the face of the patchwork colossus. Where its body wasn’t stitched together, bizarre symbols seemed to be burned into its flesh, which looked like it had been blasted red and hard in a furnace,
“Yes, yes so it would seem um…hello,” Giles addressed the creature, “Can you umm...speak?”
“Better than you it would appear,” the creature replied in a smooth, calm voice, startling them both.
“Oh! Well…hello there!” Giles said stuttering slightly at being able to converse with this creature,
“You spoke of Rabbi Mesha. He is dead. Are you responsible?” The creature asked them directly, Giles shook his head,
“No, no we are not. We believe a creature called a ‘Dahaka’ or a ‘fleshdancer’ was responsible for murdering the rabbi and then assuming his identity in an attempt to murder my son and others,” The creature considered this then nodded,
“Yes, that follows with what I witnessed of the creature before I left,” the creature responded. Giles frowned,
‘You encountered the fleshdancer?” he asked puzzled. The creature nodded,
“Yes I did,” he confirmed for the confused pair.
“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly blend in; how did you and for that matter, what were you doing spying on the rabbi and goo-boy?” Spike asked. The creature turned to address the shorter man,
“I was not spying. I lived here. This was my home,” Giles gaped, a terrible thought occurring to him,
“Who are you?” Giles asked. The creature turned,
“My name was Kohen. I was the Rabbi’s student; before I became his experiment. Now you may call me Ashmedai,”
“The Jewish King of Demons,” Giles breathed. Ashmedai bowed sardonically,
“In the piecemeal flesh, so to speak,” he replied bitterly. Spike looked back and forth,
“Hold up, how did you go from nice Jewish boy to Frankenstein with wings?” he asked. Ashmedai chuckled, a sound like stone on glass,
“That is a long story,” he replied. Giles cleared his throat, appalled at what had been done to this young man and sickened by it.
“We have time, and we believe it may be important,” Giles replied. The creature nodded,
“Follow me please,” he instructed simply then turned, “First I must ask, what is the nature of your interest?”
“There is a great evil rising in the west, in our home. We seek the elements necessary to combat it,” Giles replied, “For the sake of our families and our homes,” To his surprise, Ashmedai smiled, a little sadly,
“How noble. Oddly enough, it is that sentiment that gave rise to the golem of Prague all those years ago,” The creature led them up some stairs and opened a trapdoor into what had once been the temple attic and had now been converted into a semi-comfortable living space and probably the only room in the temple aside from the main foyer that Ashmedai’s horns and wing tips did not scrape the ceilings.
He gestured with a clawed hand to the floor, “Forgive the lack of furniture” he explained, “I do not entertain often,” he quipped, smiling slightly as he took the only chair, a battered recliner that had deep gouges torn into it from the creature wings,
“Looking like a gargoyle will do that,” Spike commented, squatting on the floor next to Giles. Giles frowned at the other man’s rudeness before turning to Ashmedai,
“It’s quite all right, earlier you mentioned the Golem of Prague. To confirm, you yourself are in fact a golem, are you not?” Ashmedai nodded,
“What gave it away? I’ve got everything but bolts in my neck,” he spat bitterly before sighing, getting his rage under control, “Yes, yes I am a golem, created in the image of the demon king, to inspire ‘righteous fear’ in his flock,”
“Hold up, you were created to scare all the other Jews in the area? Why?” Spike asked, Giles answer for him,
“Because a religious leader who can manifest ‘demons’ at a moment’s notice can cultivate a lot of obedience from his flock,” he replied. Ashmedai nodded,
“His sin runs deeper than you know. Using me as his tool of fear and majesty, Rabbi Mesha extended his hand into politics, finance, local businesses, utilizing his position as spiritual leader to cultivate resource and influence in the local community,” Spike shrugged,
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, local holy men dipping into the town well for a little extra bread, it’s been done. I’m not impressed,” Giles sighed taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose,
“Spike, Try to understand this. Say you have an entire congregation of very devoted, deeply religions people. Now say one of them has a good deal of money, you can tell them it’s their religious obligation to tithe some of that to the temple and if they refuse, you send a demon to their house to scare them into doing it. Or say someone in your congregation is running for office and you want to make them more pliable to your wishes using a generous campaign contribution from money that you’ve extorted out of your own flock, followed by a demonic visit should your candidate not tow the line you want him to. It is a pretty powerful incentive. Faith and fear in combination make a powerful ally”
“Faith. Fear. Cut from the same bloody tree if you ask me; bunch of bleedin’ people cowering in sodding mansions of stone and wood begging some old man on up high for a better life; waste of time if you ask me,” Spike snorted derisively.
“Spoken like a man who’s lost of his faith. Becoming a vampire wouldn’t have something to do with that would it?” Ashmedai asked.
“Don’t know. Would becoming a freak have something to do with you losing yours?” Spike replied testily.
“I don’t know, my faith has endured, vampire, how’s yours?” the golem replied. Spike snarled at him,
“Fag off! I’m not going to be lectured at by someone’s bloody cross-stitch project!” Spike roared getting to his feet, fist clenched.
“Enough!” Giles yelled. “Sit down Spike!” Spike glared daggers into them both, and then settled back down upon the floor, arms crossed. Giles sighed and turned to Ashmedai,
“I apologize, Spike is…” Giles struggled for the word, “He’s sort of…he’s an idiot,” Ashmedai chuckled,
“Perhaps, but a brave idiot. If he brawls as well as he brags, he must be useful,”
“I have my moments,” Spike replied evenly, getting himself under control.
“You mentioned that his sin ran deeper than we knew. What exactly did you mean?” Giles asked. Ashmedai’s inhuman face turned grim,
“Let me show you,” he answered.
Willow awoke with a start. She rubbed her eyes and stared at her watch, the little glowing numbers told it was nearly quarter to ten.
And then it hit her.
Alec was gone.
Frantically, she bolted up right and whirled around.
Alec was there, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring into the dark.
Sighing in relief, Willow crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him, her hands clasping against his bare chest, she placed a warm kiss on the skin upon his back, trying to ignore the wounds that were still healing.
“Hey you,” she whispered then smiled when she felt his hands come over hers and press together,
“Does the sun still shine, Willow? I’m having trouble seeing it,” he whispered. Willow frowned,
“Well its night time, also we’re underground,” she replied, there was something in this tone she didn’t like. She heard the smile in his reply
“Yes, it’s night. It’s always night here. Always dark. And we all linger here, under the cold earth. Buried alive. Screaming for release,” Alec replied. Willow shuttered at his words, thick with despair and madness.
“Hey…” she whispered turning him towards her, he didn’t resist, his legs dangling behind him, “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” she whispered soothingly, pulling his head to her breast and rocking him.
“Yes, you’re here. And it’s here. I can feel it. It’s waiting for me, there, in the darkness. I can feel it under my skin, behind my eyes, clogging my lungs, strangling me,” Alec whispered, his voice full of dread. Willow frowned kissing his forehead,
“What is Alec? What’s waiting for you?”
“The hungry dark,” he replied in quiet terror and despair. Willow nodded then looked up and gasped.
Daenna was standing in front of them both. Her skin was a bloated blue, her flesh hung from her body like soiled clothes, soaked to the bone. Her eyes were a milky dead white, wide and staring right at her. The corpse opened its mouth and a thick black ooze leaked out, dribbling down the front of what had once been a pretty dress,
“Death cannot save you from the evil that you have brought with you! Beware!” The old woman threw her head back, black ooze spewing out like a geyser, choking and gurgling. And then her head fell off her body and rolled away.
Willow screamed in terror and brought her hands over her eyes shuddering in horror. Then she felt warm arms wrap around her,
“Shhh love, it’s all right. I have you,” she heard Alec whisper to her, resting his cheek on her red hair. She cried then, partially in horror, partially in grief but also in joy and relief: he was the strong, tender man she had fallen in love with once more, in spirit at least if not yet in body.
“Alec…” she choked clutching to her love. He smiled and kissed her head over and over,
“It’s me, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.
“I’m so scared,” she whispered. He nodded and turned to peer down into the dark tunnels, where he could feel the darkness looking back at him,
“I am too Willow. I am too.”
“Hey! He lives!” Buffy exclaimed joyfully as Willow helped carry Alec into Buffy’s bedroom which had served as the impromptu place of hanging out for the last few days,
“Alec!” Dawn whispered before running over full speed and plowing into him hard, Willow struggled to keep them both aloft as Dawn squeezed him tightly, Alec hugging her back,
“Hey petite, miss me?” he quipped. She nodded vigorously,
“I thought I’d lost you,” Alec smiled,
“Never in a million years, love,” She smiled up at him, her eyes shining as Alec leaned over, careful not to throw either girl off balance and kissed her gently upon her forehead. Xander walked over,
“Hey man, welcome back to the world, thought you’d taken one hit too many,” he cracked gesturing at the still bandaged young man. Alec shook his head,
“Still here, ready to fight the good fight,” The boy replied cockily. Suddenly a rush of vertigo hit him and he swooned, Willow and Dawn both braced him but he continued to topple,
Until strong arms grabbed him from behind,
“Perhaps you should fight the good fight from a sitting position,” Angel commented dryly. Alec nodded and chuckled looking up into the vampire’s face,
“Sounds like a good idea brother,” Angel hoisted the young man to his feet and helped carry him to the bed as Buffy cleared a space. As Angel set the young man down, his hand brushed against Buffy’s. For a moment, time stood still as Buffy and Angel made eye contact that seemed to last forever in their own private world.
Alec’s eyes flicked between the two then he smiled privately to himself before settling against the mattress. Buffy padded over to her brother and wrapped her arms around him squeezing him tightly and rocking him back and forth,
“Oooh! I am so glad you are not dead or crazy or anything,” Buffy commented, kissing her brothers cheek.
“Yes, we are all glad you have not gone murderously insane,” Anya commented, “We are also quite pleased that we will not have to toss you into a hole in the ground and bury you,”
The room fell silent as everyone regarded Anya with mixed expressions. Anya beamed,
“Yes, very glad,” she reiterated before settling back down next to Xander. Alec chuckled,
“Thank you…I think,” he turned to Angel, “How you holding up, mate?” Angel opened his shirt revealing several indentions from the bullet wounds he had suffered,
“If I can go a while without getting shot or stabbed I ought to be alright,” the vampire commented.
“Heard that one before,” Buffy replied smiling at him. Angel returned it gently then chuckled looking down at his healed wounds,
“It kind of itches a little,” Angel observed. Alec chuckled and removed the bandage from his shoulder, exposing a similar scar,
“The hell you say,” Alec replied grinning. Willow walked over to her lover, placing a kiss on his head and settling in next to him, brushing the white lock of hair from her face. Alec looked around and frowned,
“Where’s dad and Spike?” he asked.
“They went to go check out that temple again,” Buffy commented with a shudder. Alec’s eyes widened,
“Hell, I better get out there,” he pushed himself off the bed and nearly collapsed as his legs gave way.
“Damn it!” he cursed as Willow helped him back onto the bed, “I’m useless!”
“Don’t say that!” Dawn cried out to him. Everyone whirled to face her, astonished at the small girl’s vehemence. Dawn herself looked a little taken aback as well as she stammered “You can still…help with research, you do have the Giles uber-smart gene,” she commented. There were a few chuckles as Willow turned to face Alec,
“She’s right, besides, if we want to make you combat capable all we need to do is stick you in a wheelchair, put some armor on you, have you grow a lance from your arm dohickie and we can roll you into the enemy,” she cracked. Alec smiled despite himself,
“That’s not funny,” he admonished though he was chuckling quietly as were the others.
“So what’s next?” Alec asked after the laughter had died down.
“Next we strip your bandages, get you cleaned up and put some fresh clothes on you,” Willow informed him. There were a lot of “ooh’s” at this, though Dawn looked stricken a moment before sighing and looking away, unnoticed. Alec nodded,
“Yeah that’d be good actually,” the young man replied as Xander helped him to his feet.
“Whew!” the younger man gasped, waving his hand in front of his face in mock disgust, “You are ripe!” Alec chuckled,
“Anyone tell you its bad karma to pick on the wounded?” Willow punched Xander in the shoulder,
“Ow!”
“See?” Alec grinned then kissed Willow, “Thank you love,”
“Anytime dear,” she smiled prettily at Xander who scowled.
“Yeah you call it ‘karma’ I call it a ‘double cross’”, he replied.
“Now Xander don’t be bitter,” Alec admonished as Willow led him away.
Alec was propped up against the shower stall wall; it was a large open-air shower room, meant to accommodate several men; probably the sewer workers who first worked here. Alec ducked his head under the steaming water, cursing that, now crippled, he couldn’t even stand under a shower or adjust freely to keep from getting water in his face. The steam washed over him, cleaning him. Alec brought a wet hand across his bare torso, touching the rapidly healing scars that his regenerative factor had finally gotten around to tending to.
(If I was human, I would be dead) Alec thought to himself…then started when a peal of deep laughter boomed throughout the confines of the shower.
“What makes you think you are not?” it asked. Alec whirled around trying to see,
“Show yourself!” he demanded.
“What makes you think you are not dead and this is Hell?” the voice asked, sounding closer now. Alec tried to struggle to his feet but it was of no use and the strength in his arms left him, causing him to slump against the wall in impotent anger, exhaling hard and fast out of his mouth,
“Isn’t that where murderers of little boys go…Alec?” The voice asked. Alec brought his fists up to his ears,
“You can’t block me out Alec, I know you. That splash of blood, the screams, that look in their eyes as their life slowly fades out of them. You love it, you live for it,”
“NO!” Alec yelled and lurched wildly, he fell, face first into the tile floor, his nose re-breaking. He bit his lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out from the pain and lifted himself up peering into the water pooled on the floor,
There, just behind him, a huge shape loomed dark and evil and overpowering.
“You love it!” it whispered. And with a scream of rage Alec whirled around a sword in his hand springing from his flesh…
…and connected with nothing. The only sound in the shower room was water on tile and the steady flat ‘drip drip drip’ of blood hitting the floor. Alec turned around to peer back into the water on the floor. Slowly the blood from his nose went back up his face back into his nostrils, the nose straightened with a crack of healing cartilage.
There was a low chuckle,
“See you soon, Alec,” it promised in a velvet voice, full of evil.
Ashmedai led Spike and Giles down into the bowels of the temple. Since neither he nor Spike required light to see in the darkness, they kept Giles between them so as not to lose him,
“Ow!” Giles cried out as he tripped in the pitch black corridor, colliding into Ashmedai. He felt hard, leather-like skin against his face, a flutter of wing and then he felt strong hands carefully hold him up,
“Thank you,” Giles said into the oppressive dark,
“You are welcome,” the golem replied before continuing on. They progressed perhaps 20 meters or so then turned left down another passage,
“I am stopping now,” Ashmedai warned the blind man. Giles got the hint and slowed then stopped, Spike doing the same.
“A blind watcher, you have to appreciate the irony,” Spike quipped,
“Thrilled beyond words at your satirical acumen, Spike,” Giles replied.
“Eh?”
“It means ‘shut up’,”
Spike chuckled, “Ah, okay then mate, why didn’t you say so?”
There was the sound of a heavy lock being undone and an even heavier door being pushed open. A rush of cold air spilled into the black, Giles shivered as the taste of something metallic entered his mouth. He could smell, now above the musty scent of the stone corridor, antiseptic and metal.
“Step forward please, and brace yourself,” Ashmedai warned before moving off to the side. For a moment, Giles was alone in the dark, panic set in,
“Spike!” Giles called out. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeeze reassuringly
“Steady on mate, he’s just stepping to the side to get the light,” Spike assured him. Giles nodded,
“Yes. Thank you,” Spike snorted,
“Besides I can’t wait to tell Alec how you’re scared of the dark, yet more irony,” Spike put in. Giles sighed and smiled in the dark,
“Step forward now please,” Ashmedai’s voice rang out. Giles took a step forward as the light from a small wall mounted lantern ignited
Revealing a full scale laboratory.
“Now all this place needs is a hunchback,” Spike observed and Giles could hardly disagree.
Metal hooks hung from the ceiling. A large metal bed was suspended as well. Several books lined the walls with titles like “Gray’s Anatomy” and “Morticians Desk Reference”. Vials filled with blood and other less savory fluids bubbled. A vat of fat cooked on a small burner, tallow burned away at the surface of several half-formed candles. Prints of Da Vinci’s works on anatomy including a life-size “Vitruvian Man” hung on the walls with handwritten notes scrawled upon them. Giles peered at them, then shuddered: blood stains and bits of flesh and hair also clung to the sketches. It was cold in this room, no doubt for tissue preservation and Giles rubbed his hands up and down his arms to stay warm.
“Oy! What’s this do?” Spike asked gesturing at a lever.
“No! Wait, Spike, don’t!” Giles cried out but it was far too late. Spike pulled down the lever and with the sound of metal squealing, gears spun crazily, chains rattled and with a crash, the metal rack that hung upon the ceiling plunged down crashing to a stop at waist height suspended by gory chains. A wave of decay rose up from it and crashed upon Giles; he bent in half choking and heaving at the scent of death and rot that hung from the blood-soaked apparatus. Spike whistled at the sight,
“Bloody Hell. Someone was busy on this thing,” he turned to Giles who was still coughing up bile, “You all right mate?” Giles waved him away as Spike approached the rack,
“Gods,” he whispered in awe and not a little of his own horror. It consisted of two parts, a metal rack, shaped roughly like a sarcophagus and a second part which fit atop it, the ‘lid’ Spike thought.
The rack was lined with barbed hooks, no doubt they dug into the flesh of the person put in there to keep them on their back and still. Leather straps at the wrists, chest, waist, knees and feet further immobilized the subject while some kind of two-piece metal clasp came out from the underside of the bed to lock the throat down. Then the lid probably came down and that was that.
Spike leaned over and sniffed, “It’s old blood,” he confirmed.
“Yes,” Ashmedai added, “It is,” Spike turned to the patchwork beast.
“Yours?” Spike asked though he already knew the answer. Ashmedai nodded, “You will, I trust excuse me. Being here is unpleasant,” Spike waved him away,
“Yeah, sure, bugger off, no worries,” he replied. Spike turned, “You on your feet yet?” Spike asked as Ashmedai padded away, his massive horns scrapping the doorframe. Giles nodded,
“Yes, thank you,” Giles replied, he was leaning heavily on one hand palm against the wall his other hand holding his glasses limply at his waist, swallowing deep breaths of air and trying not to heave from the smell coming from the gory rack. When he looked up he frowned suddenly, focusing on something upon the wall,
“What you got there, mate?” Spike asked. Giles frowned and ran his finger over a spot on the wall; something about it bothered him. It took a moment but he got it: it was the only portion of the wall that wasn’t stained with blood or dust.
“I’m not sure,” Giles replied putting his glasses on and peering at it, frowning. Gently he pressed in with his thumb. And with an audible click, the portion of wall over his thumb depressed and the wall slide away. Giles stumbled backwards in surprise, Spike catching him before they both peered at the newly-revealed room.
A desk with some books, a chair, a trunk, really not much more than an oversized closet converted into a study. Giles had to step sideways to get to the desk. Lying upon it was an old leather-bound book, roughly the size of a paperback. Giles picked it up and opened it, examining it,
“A diary,” Giles confirmed, opening it and peering inside,
“What’s it say?” Spike asked. Giles frowned,
“I’m not sure, it appears to be written in Hebrew. Let me see here,” he sounded out a few words, Spike looked at him curiously,
“You bringing something up mate?” he asked. Giles sighed,
“It’s an Aramaic base as opposed to Anglo-Saxon which is Latin,” he pointed to some numbers, “These are dates, which is what revealed that it was, in fact, a diary,” Giles turned the pages from right to left, something that Spike found odd, Giles caught the look,
“It’s a language that’s read from right to left, backwards in contrast to most Western languages,” Spike nodded,
“Yeah, all right so what’s it say already?” He asked impatiently. Giles frowned at a single line of Hebrew written in black ink stark against the white inside cover,
“ ‘Ata Bra Golem Devuk Hakhomer VeTigzar Zedim Chevel Torfe Yisroel,’” Giles sounded out.
“And what the Hell does that mean?” Spike demanded. Giles frowned in thought,
“It’s a line of text from that story regarding the Golem of Prague. It’s what God supposedly said to the Rabbi who was responsible for the Golem,” Giles gestured at the text, translating “ ‘Make a Golem of clay and you will destroy the entire Jew-baiting company,’” Giles explained, “It’s considered the catch mark phrase of the myth of the Golem,”
“Better amend ‘myth’ to ‘fact’ mate, horn boy over yonder didn’t claw his way out of his mum’s womb looking like that,” Spike put in,
“So it would seem,” Giles responded as he continued to examine the diary further, “This is the diary of the rabbi. It seems to be dated back a few years. The beginning entry…” Giles voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Spike queried.
“My God,” Giles whispered to himself.
“And for those of us who are not bloody psychic?!” Spike yelled. Giles looked up,
“The first entry discusses the death of his eight year old son, heart failure,” Giles replied, “I believe that’s why the rabbi began delving into necromancy and reanimation, he wanted to bring his son back,” Giles gestured to a passage, “Look here, ‘Each cell burns with a new life which apparently lends an unnatural capacity to the body as a whole. This tensile strength may in part aid the body in trapping or retaining an appropriate animating spirit or essence,’” Giles looked up at Spike, “He was trying to bring his son back from the dead,”
“Yeesh, that’s pretty…psychotic,” Spike commented,
“Become a father first, then judge,” Giles retorted. Spike sighed and nodded,
“Yeah all right point, so what happened next?” He asked eager to change the subject, Giles kept reading,
“It talks here about first working with stone, apparently the rabbi at this point in time wasn’t willing to cast off all of his religions teachings about necromancy and kosher behavior yet,” Giles frowned, “It reads that the stone creature he created was ‘three widths of a man and nearly ten feet tall’” Giles brow furrowed deeper with concern, “It doesn’t say whether or not he was successful in animating the stone golem, all it reads is a quote from Shelley “ ‘Power; like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanical automaton,” Spike stared,
“What’s that from?”
“Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab, III,” Giles replied before turning the page, “Here it begins discussing…oh,” Giles trailed off looking downcast,
“What?”
“It’s discussing the murder and reassembling of Kohen,”
“Right. Okay. Bad. Let’s skip that then, shall we?” Giles nodded and continued on,
“Good lord,” Giles whispered. Spike didn’t even bother, simply glaring at the other man. Giles looked up,
“The last entry, speaks of encountering a strange creature who could ‘fashion flesh as clay,’” Spike gaped,
“That Dahaka thing Alec tangled with?”
“It’s certainly very likely. Apparently the rabbi entered a partnership with it in the hopes of using its fleshcrafting to create a better golem or possibly repair his son,”
“Yeah, instead, ol’ Moses had his skull scooped up and his face used like a discount Halloween mask,” Giles nodded,
“It would certainly appear that way,” Giles tucked the diary in his pocket, “This bears further-“he stopped. Spike frowned,
“What is it?” he asked. Giles shook his head,
“I’m not sure…something,” he sniffed a few times then peered at the trunk.
“Spike would you please drag this out?” he asked. Spike nodded,
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” taking hold of it he dragged it into the laboratory. Spike winced, “Smells like someone who shall remain lifeless has forgotten to do his laundry,”
“I don’t think its dirty clothes, Spike,” Giles gestured at a heavy padlock on the latch, “Can you handle that?” Spike took it and twisted, the latch ripped away from the wood, nearly dropping him on his backside. Dumbfounded, Spike stared at the intact lock then back to the ruined latch,
“Ummm, yeah, no problem,”
Giles stepped over the vampire and opened the chest then gasped.
Inside was the perfectly preserved body of a small eight year old boy. So perfectly tended was his body that it looked like he was merely sleeping,
“The rabbi’s son,” Giles breathed, “But that’s impossible, this body is in perfect condition, yet it must be years old,” Giles leaned over the body, peering at the inside of the lid, “No refrigeration equipment-“
And without warning the child opened its eyes, a hideous bright pink and hissed at Giles. Giles tried to stumble away but the child lashed out with unholy speed, its hands no longer fingers but ten whip-like tentacles that wrapped around Giles’ head and dragged him closer.
“SPIKE!” Giles screamed out from underneath the greasy folds of grasping skin.
“Holy Christ!” Spike yelled and came running over trying to pull Giles away from the hideous monster. The child creature turned its head towards Spike, glittering pink eyes filled with bestial hatred as its lower jaw split into two portions, left and right, his soft palate folded up over his nose revealing a trilateral jaw filled with teeth and snaking out a long black tongue that opened at the middle and hissed at them,
“Bugger off!” Spike snarled lashing out with his fingers. The creature howled in pain and brought his tentacled hands over his now ruined eye socket. Spike dragged Giles away and looked at the pink goo on his fingers in disgust,
“Bloody hell,” he muttered then turned at the hissing sound that came from the trunk.
The creature, its head split open and filled with teeth, ruining the appearance of the sleeping child hissed at them, perched precariously on the rim of the trunk,
“You want some more?! COME ON!” Spike roared and charged the creature. The thing leapt at Spike with its unreal speed and collided into him, lashing its tentacles around Spikes head and trying to drag the vampire’s skull into its massive jaws.
And with a bestial roar of rage, Ashmedai charged into the room. He tore the creature from Spike, hoisted it into the air, and brought the writhing abomination’s spine down hard against its unyielding knee. There was a sickening crack as the creature’s spine shattered. The hissing became a mewling whimper as Ashmedai tossed it to the floor and helped Spike to his feet,
“What is this…horror?” Ashmedai asked.
“A parting gift from the Dahaka, same bloke that murdered your rabbi,” Spike informed the golem. The creature on the floor crawled to look up at them, its face resealing once again now resembling a wounded child with a bleeding eye socket and shattered spine. It clawed at Ashemedai’s clawed foot, mewling piteously,
“Sorry mate, not this time, do the honors,” he told Ashmedai. Ashmedai looked down at the lie of innocence and the horror which lay underneath. He brought a single huge foot up and then down, hard. The creature beneath his heel spasmed once then lay slack.
“Yes well, that was probably right up there with me own mum hitting on me as far as most horrible thing to happen to me as of late,” Spike commented. Giles nodded,
“This Dahaka must be stopped,”
“Yes,” Ashmedai concurred,
“Too bloody right,” Spike chimed in then peered at the broken body of the creature at their feet. Giles frowned,
“What is it?” Spike gestured and Giles turned to look. The blood running from its gaping maw trickled onto the floor and between the cracks upon the stone floor. A steady drip could be heard as it dripped through the crack to something beneath.
“Hey Dante, give me a hand with this,” Spike told Ashmedai. Giles gingerly dragged the dead body away, a touch fearful that the hideous child-beast would reanimate and seek once again to devour his head, as Ashmedai and Spike worked their fingers into the cracks between the stone and heaved up and out, tossing the stone back upon the floor.
Spike stuck his head in, “Looks clear,” he observed.
“I cannot fit in such a space,” Ashmedai informed them, “I will lower you both down,” Spike nodded and gripping the golem’s forearms was lowered down into the sub-basement. Giles followed, taking a lantern which Ashmedai handed down to him,
“What do you see?” the golem asked. Spike and Giles looked about the chamber. Some carving tools, a table, a chisel, a few ladders and something else. A glint of metal shined against one wall. Human and vampire examined closer then slowly craned their heads up,
“Oh…bollocks!” Spike whispered.
A shrill electronic ring made them both jump. Giles jerked his hand down to his jacket pocket, removing a cell phone, jerking it open and mashing it to his ear,
“Hello?” he spoke and was rewarded with a burst of static; reception being poor so far underground.
“G-Man, that you?” Xander’s voice crackled and hissed, cutting in and out over the tiny speaker. Giles slapped a hand over his other ear to hear better,
“Yes, I’m here. We have some rather alarming news,”
“We got you beat, you better get back here. Some weird creature is trashing the neighborhood near you. It’s bizarre-
“A statue perhaps? Roughly ten feet tall and three or four feet in width,”
There was a static filled silence then,
“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?” a confused Xander asked.
“Oh…” Giles looked back at the wall where a ten foot tall, three foot wide indention was carved into the stone, several chains now snapped and broken lay at the base,
“Call it a hunch,”
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