gen_storyteller

A little late, for a variety of reasons, here is the next chapter of my WIP, Darkness Visible.

Many thanks to

bogwitch for her usual thorough beta job. Extraneous commas are all my fault, not hers. And to

spikes_heart for reading and checking for egregious Briticisms.

Title: Darkness Visible

Pairing/Character: Spike and Anne

Rating: G

Summary: Post NFA, Spike is hungry and he's far from being the only one.

Spoilers: Everything up to and including NFA

Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, especially Spike, but they are Joss’s. He said we could play though, honest!

Chapter 3

Dilapidated couches lined the walls of a large, bare room and some low tubular metal tables carried a variety of chipped plates and tin mugs. The pair crossed to a particularly moth-eaten and stained seat. Not far away, assorted young people hung in quiet knots near a battered woodstove. From time to time they fed a bleak little fire with tattered magazines or fiddled with pans balanced above it.

Clearly they trusted Anne’s judgement – their fear of the strange interloper had dissipated. There were occasional curious glances, certainly, and some of the beefier young lads positioned themselves pointedly between them and the door, but to all practical intents they were alone.

Spike grimaced as he eased himself into a seat. His hip had started to protest again, now the excitement of the fight was over. .

“You OK?” Dammit, it showed that easily?

“Just an old wound. It’ll heal – they always do with our kind.”

“And just what is your “kind”? Who exactly are you, mister?”

“Name’s Spike.” Not giving any more than he had to, not just yet.

“Yeah, that I remember. But what’s changed? Back in Sunnydale there wasn’t any doubt. I was a snack that got away, right?” She fixed her eyes on his face, unconsciously fingering her neck.

“A long story, luv. Complicated. I’m on the side of the light now.” She rolled her eyes. The Darth metaphor wasn’t the newest she’d heard, clearly. “Accept it or not – you don’t have too much choice but to trust me.”

She stared down at her hands, the fragile fingers interlacing and disengaging nervously. “I guess I do have to trust you. I don’t have too many other options.”

“That’s my good girl.” Approving. But he needed to move from this topic – too many uncomfortable memories. He nodded towards the kids by the stove. “What’s their game?”

“Food. They don’t want to be too far away from it when it’s ready.”

Two lads shifted away from the rest. Their relaxed stance slipped into something more hostile as they faced each other squarely. One, a tall, wiry boy, hovered, a hand near his hip.

Spike stirred. “Want me to do something?” But Anne was already moving, thrusting the antagonists aside.

“Move away, Mister, or you’ll be moving out.” She gripped the shirt-front of the lad who towered above her, but he was the nervous one.. This woman had cojones. The shorter boy melted back to his group of friends, while the other backed off. Some food was slopped into pans and each sat sullenly apart, ready to gorge himself. Anne nodded her head sharply and sat down again.

“Nice work, love. So, tell me about yourself. What are you doing here? From what I recall that bunch of wannabe wankers was pretty solidly Sunnyhell-based.”

“God, that was a long while ago. Two names back at least.”

“Names?” A quirked eyebrow. “No, don’t bother if you don’t want to. This town’s full of people with a new identity every week.”

“Oh, it’s not as if there’s a lot to tell. I was Katherine once – that’s the name my Mom gave me. Then I thought it was too boring, so I went through my Davina phase. Then “Chanterelle” sounded nice. After all that I came to LA, became Lily. There was a boy…”

“There generally is, pet.”

“His name was Rick and he looked after me. That was the time Buffy saved me. Again.”

“Buffy? In LA? How long ago?” Despite himself he leaned in, eager for any news, even from this unexpected quarter.

“Years ago. She’d left home. She called herself by a different name, worked as a waitress. Then some stuff went down – nasty, scary demon stuff. She saved a whole bunch of us. Then she went home.”

“Just like that? Some vamp to torment, no doubt–” He caught himself, but you could never say it was in time. “Sorry. Thinking aloud. So, you knew Charlie Gunn?”

“He’s – he was - from ’round here.” She smiled hesitantly at him. “He used to drop by. He had some tough kids in his team. He knew about your sort of people.”

“He did an’ all,” Spike half-smiled.

“I needed to give back a little, you know? I was pretty damn gullible– nearly got a lot of kids killed. Nearly got myself killed. Seeing Buffy sorta made me want to make a difference. These kids showed me how I could do it.”

“I worked with Gunn. Right up to the end.” He rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. “God, was it only two months ago?”

“Less. Fifty-five days by my reckoning. It’s tough to keep count.”

“Eight weeks. Right. More than long enough for anarchy to take hold in this town. Can’t be more than a few hundred trees unburnt.” He gestured vaguely at the room’s other occupants. “You’ve done well to stop them burning the furniture.”

“Toxic foam. They got that. Eventually.”

“How’re they holding up? Scared, huh?” His voice was softer now, and he held her gaze sympathetically.

“At first they weren’t. These are tough kids, street kids, y’know? But this darkness, this cold, they get to you after a while. They’ve been coming to us for food, clothes, shelter – for a while now. Now all we can offer is shelter. Somewhat. It’s not enough.”

“I get that. There’s folks out there eating pretty much anything – I’ve had to fight for rats a coupla times. Demons and vamps cruising in packs, too, and even less fussy about what or who they eat.”

“We’re getting that way. We have some dried goods in the stores. Not much, and clean water to mix it all up with – or even to drink - is hard to come by now. Light, too – we’re almost out of kerosene for that lamp and the candles are all gone. We can’t go on much longer.”

He stood, restless, and she followed him to the window. They peered into the gloom.

Across the yard he saw something move among the rubble. “Stay here,” he snapped. He swung out of the door and launched himself toward his target. One hand clamped down on a thick, horn-covered neck as he swept his foot across his victim’s knees. In seconds he straddled the creature and flipped it over. “Let’s see just what sort of nasty you are,“ he ground out.

A pair of enormous yellow eyes were full of panic. “Hey, man! I was only rooting around.” The whine in his voice did not exactly inspire terror. Spike loosened his grip a touch.

“You should know better than to do that in this town. Kind of thing gets you killed.”

“Now we really don’t need to do that do we? You wouldn’t like my blood, you know. It’s horrible. And green. Vampires spit it out. Really they do.”

“So you spotted I’m a vamp?”

“Well, yes. Not so hard Mr Spike. You’re not exactly incognito, are you?”

His face must be recovering. Not the point, though. He pressed down firmly again on what he presumed was the creature’s jugular. Gills flared out from his throat. OK, not the biodesign he’d thought, but it was hurting. So not all bad, then. “Why here?”

It’s hard to look innocent lying on your back with an angry vampire crushing your throat, but the demon did its best. - not a very good best. “Just rootling man, like I told you. Come on, let me go why don’t ya?”

It might have been convincing if the thing hadn’t been looking so often and so nervously at the fence and beyond. Spike peered into the gloom, but even his enhanced vampire vision could make out little. Violence was probably more efficient, all things considered. He gave an experimental twist to the throat. There was a satisfying yelp.

“OK, dude. I’ll tell. Just don’t let on it was me, OK?”

“What?” There was no kindness in Spike’s voice. No patience in his tone either.

A nervous babble: “You’ve attracted a lot of attention. Your lady, she’s coming back. Word’s gone out – you’re fair game. You can expect a posse – vamps and demons actually teamworking! Man, you have to be good if you can scare them into working together like that.”

“Dru, teamwork?” That did not compute. Never could compute. If the bint could manage to get her own family to work with her she was doing well. This was incredible.

“Yes. She has a whole bunch pretty much worshipping her. They’re doing all the planning. She’s just telling them she wants her boy. Or his head at least.”

Exasperated, Spike glared up into the sky. Low clouds painted new layers of black and smoke grey onto the indigo. Stupid bird. Might have known she’d fail to work out that his head would powder as soon as the rest of his body once detached. He drew his fingertips across his scarred brow.

Bad move, Spike. A horn extended out from the monster’s rib cage and caught him in his own chest. He swore and jerked back, losing his grip with his other hand. A squirm, a bucking movement and it was off, running for cover. Presumably also to report back to Dru and her pack. He sighed and shook himself down, swirling back into the building.

“There’s good reason to be scared of the dark.” He slipped back against the window ledge as if nothing much had happened. “Nasties out there, pet. You don’t want to know.”

“It’s not just that. I live here, remember. Nasties are normal. It’s the darkness. Like the sun’s gone away – not just cloudy. You can just about make out shapes, but it’s…” She swallowed, hard.

“This is supernatural stuff. Creature of the night here, but it I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“I don’t understand why the Federal authorities haven’t come to help by now.”

“Those wankers? Takes them longer than that to get up off their arses. It might be global. Might be there aren’t any Federal authorities left.” He sniffed. “Not so sure that would be a total loss.”

She forced a smile, which twisted into a pleading expression. “There’s supposed to be some sort of emergency team ready to come in and help out when there are natural disasters. Earthquakes, hurricanes, the like. You’d think they’d be here by now.”

He gripped her by the shoulders. “Look, pet, there’s no point in counting on help from anywhere. You know that. How much good’s the government done you in the past?”

Anne looked sideways. “Not much,” she admitted, reluctantly.

“So. Bugger all food, precious little fuel, vamps know you’re here. Not looking too good, is it?”

She snorted and turned round, gesturing into the room. “You think it’s ever looked good for these kids? This really isn’t so different from what they’re used to.”

Spike cast his eyes up to the ceiling, where a useless light hung beneath a motionless room fan. “Well, yeah. So you think they’re gonna be fine this time? With the cold and the dark and the power out and all?”

She crumpled a little. “No. You have a better plan?”

“It’s time to move on, pet. Can’t exactly call the Seventh Cavalry, can we?”

Her head jerked up. “Why not?”

“Don’t rightly get your point, love. I thought we’d said the authorities were useless?”

“They might be, but Buffy isn’t. She helped me before. Why not now?”

That one was unexpected. He ran his fingertips once more across his scarred eyebrow. “What makes you think she’s in reach?”

“It’s the twenty-first century, isn’t it? Everyone’s in reach, if you try hard enough.”

“So you’re just going to hit speed dial on your cell, eh? That easy?”

Anne flushed. “No, not at all that easy.”

“So why haven’t you called her in already?” He lounged against the wall, hands in pockets.

“I dunno. Didn’t think of her. Seeing you brought memories back.”

“Yeah, right. Full of joy.”

“For God’s sake!” So the calm wasn’t limitless. She paced away from him, the kids in her path easing out of her route. She strode directly to a map on the wall, ripped it down and returned to thrust it under his nose. “Look at this. We’re here. Out here, “ she jabbed a finger near the edge of the sheet, “there’s a chance we might pick up a signal.”

“Can’t say I’d thought about leaving town. Lots of things that go bump in the night round here, love. And a whole lot of night. You sure we ought to be leaving them in the feeding grounds?” He jerked his head towards the kids huddled around the stove. “Those brats of yours won’t fight them off too good without help.”

“That’s why we have to get help. As long as they are here, your nasty friends will return.”

He protested, half-heartedly, “Hey! Not my friends! Did you see how many were left standing?”

“Yes. And I saw two get away. You think they don’t have allies? They’ll be back. They always do come back.”

It was an effort of will but he kept his jaw clamped shut. She didn’t need to know what she didn’t need to know.

“And most of my kids don’t have the first idea how to hold them off. I’ve been thinking of this for a few days. We have to get them out while we still can.” She reached across and covered his hand, staring intently into his face. “I need you to help me, Spike. I need you to help us.”

“I think I told you that first. But what with? What’s the Batplan, boss?”

“We need to get these kids out of LA.“ She gestured towards a group of girls. Most them were shaking, though it wasn’t clear if it was the cold or the fear. Probably both. “That bunch there. Look at them – hardly in their teens, most of them.”

“Is that so?” Pictures of a young girl with a glossy waterfall of brown hair came unbidden to his mind. “I suppose this life grows you up real fast.”

“It does. Another year, most of them would have been working the streets. As it is, they’d go that route for food or heat now if this place wasn’t here.”

He snorted back a laugh. “If anyone was interested. You’ve not been outside in a while, have you? That world’s gone too. Charlize Theron could be offering her body around and there’d be no takers. Except for food – and not just for vamps.

She glanced down, then lifted her head again to stare directly into his eyes. She could have been older than he was, so world-weary did she look. “There’s always someone ready to offer something in return for a bit of tail. Doesn’t mean he’ll keep the promise, but they won’t know that.”

He broke eye contact first. It was almost as if the bloody girl knew about the soul. “Well, let’s not let them find out shall we?” He shifted, pushing away from the wall. His hip hurt less. Perhaps the famed vampire healing was finally clicking in. He rubbed his fingers across the scars and stubble. Definitely felt not quite so bad. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“There’s a hostel up in the hills, ‘bout ten miles from here. Sometimes they take our kids for a few days R & R – the ones that are clean of drugs. From there we might be able to get a better picture - see how far this thing spreads.”

“Right. There’s our plan.” He looked closely at her face, at the shadows beneath her eyes, the fine lines of weariness around her lips and the dulled texture of her skin. “First thing, though, you get some sleep. Food too, if you have it.”

“No, don’t be stupid. I don’t have time for that.”

“How much good you going to do these kids if you flake out on them halfway?” He leant across and pinched her chin.. “Let me take some of the strain.”

“What if the others return?”

“If they do, I’ll wake you. C’mon, luv. You’ve trusted me thus far. Sleep. You need it.” Spike stood aside with a strangely old-fashioned gesture of courtesy.

She looked at him in surprise, then at the shabby couch. He flipped off his duster and stood, holding it pointedly. After a moment she sighed and lay down, allowing him to cover her.

Within seconds she was asleep.