All About Spike - Plain Version
This plain version is for users with very old browers, WebTV, tiny screen resolutions, or very slow internet connections.
All other viewers should use the regular version of the site.
Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
CHAPTER 7 - AT THE HYPERION HOTEL
Late Saturday Night
The adrenaline slowly drained out of Spike's body. As the car sped though the dark, he began to drift off to sleep, dreaming of death and blood and guilt. He awoke with a start and swore slightly, under his breath. Angel turned and glared at him; nothing much got past vampire hearing. Spike shut up. After that he was afraid to fall asleep again and sat fidgeting, trying to stay awake. At one point he turned on the radio and started to search for some good music, only to have Angel abruptly turn it off.
Finally his sire parked the car in front of a hotel. Spike had barely opened his door, when Angel grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the hotel lobby. He was thrust into a chair and the tall vampire stood glowering over him.
"What are you doing in my city?"
Their entrance had not gone unnoticed. A tall young Black man and pretty young woman joined them. "Who's this?" the man asked.
"An enemy from the past, Gunn. An enemy who has no right to be here."
Spike looked up at his glaring sire and the two solemn people. Any rational individual would be afraid but he was feeling too exhausted to be rational. Instead his old reflexes kicked in. Back in the old days, when they both had been in the same small pack, one of his joys of life had been taunting his sire and watching him explode. Of course it frequently resulted in Spike getting beaten to a pulp, but it had been worth it to watch the fire works.
So Spike found himself smiling in spite of himself. Everyone looked so virtuous and earnest. Once again the Angel boy was master of a pack with his followers hanging on his every word.
"So you've collected some minions, Peaches. What do you call yourself, the Soul Squad?"
The humans weren't in on the joke; they didn't know how mindless and expendable a minion was to a master vampire. But Angel stiffened and looked twice as uptight. Score one for me, Spike told himself and smirked at his sire.
"They aren't minions," his sire thundered. "They're partners and friends."
"Partners," Spike drawled. For the first time since the bloody lawyer had staked him, he was enjoying himself. "That's sounds safe enough." He looked up at the two humans. "Just don't be family. Angel's family has a way of being killed."
The next thing he knew he was being yanked off his feet by his neck. Angel was choking him, his face only inches away. "What do you know about Connor. Is he dead? Has anyone . . ." To his amazement, his sire's eyes filled with tears. The hand that was holding him started to shake and then he was released. Spike crumpled to the floor. Angel turned away abruptly. The girl stated to touch the vampire's shoulder and he shrugged her away.
Gunn was kneeling over Spike and for a moment looked every bit as fierce and deadly as the vampire had. "If you know anything about Connor, you better tell us now," he growled.
Spike shook his head in bewilderment. "Who's Connor?" His voice choked and he lifted his hand to his neck. It was bleeding again. He tried again. "I don't know any Connor."
Gunn turned his head. "Fred, get Lorne. He'll be able to tell us if this guy is lying."
Spike tried to get up, but Gunn kept him pinned to the floor. Angel turned around, watching. Spike gazed up at the vampire, bewildered. His sire's face was stricken, fighting between rage and some sort of unendurable pain.
The girl, Fred, came back leading a green demon with horns. "What do we have here?" the demon asked softly.
Gunn's voice was cold. "One of Angel's old enemies. He's been with Wolfram and Hart and says that someone killed Connor."
Remind me not to have a sense of humor around these guys. "I don't know any Connor." He looked at the horned demon. "If you're some sort of truth detector, tell them. I don't know who they are talking about. I was with the lawyers, but they bloody well tried to kill me. And I certainly don't know anything about this Connor bloke."
The green chap, Lorne, looked at him quizzically. Finally he spoke again in that gentle Nancy-boy voice, "Does anybody else notice that he's bleeding."
Spike was holding the bandage hard, trying to stop the bleeding. He noticed Angel's nose twitch like it used to do back in the old days when he smelled something appetizing. Yeah, someone noticed and he looks hungry. Then the girl knelt down and removed the bandage.
"That's a vampire bite," Gunn gasped.
"No kidding," Spike commented dryly. He looked over at his sire. "Dru wants the happy family back together." He was cold and he found himself shivering as the blood seeped between his fingers.
Angel coldly assessed him. "He'll live." The vampire helped him up and pushed back in the chair. His eyes flicked yellow for a moment and Spike could see his nostril twitch at the scent of human blood. "Lorne, we need to know if he is lying."
The demon sighed. "I'm not a mythical lie detector. I'll tell you if he knows about Connor or if he is a danger to us. But what his aura shows is his path and his own private business.
Angel nodded and then turned and looked Spike intently. "Spike, no tricks. Why are you here? Why are you involved with Wolfram and Hart? Does this have anything to do with Connor?"
Spike groaned. "I'm here because I was trying to get away from the bleeding lawyers. I got involved with them. . ." He stopped, remembering the beginning, some sort of contract he had signed. He glanced at the demon and realized he would have to tell everything. "Because I'm a soddin' idiot. I was drunk, they offered to take my chip out if I signed a contract. They said they were in some sort of dispute with you and I agreed to help." Bloody Hell, he thought. All of this shit is my own damn fault.
"I'm supposed to call them." He saw the disbelief in his sire's face. "That's all. I don't remember all the bleeding details, but it all came down to calling them on the telephone. Nothing else. I don't know this Connor person that you're talking about. I don't know how the call will hurt you or help them. I don't even remember what the call is supposed to be about. I just know that as soon as I signed the contract they staked me. Then I find myself in a human body and they're trying to kill me again!"
The room was quiet.
Then, "Sing something."
Spike stared at his sire in disbelief. "What!?"
The tension around him broke slightly. The girl, Fred, explained. "Lorne can read people. But they have to sing first."
"You're kidding, right?" Spike looked around and it was obvious they weren't. Here he was, bloody, battered and cold and they expected him to sing to them. For the life of him, he couldn't think of a single thing to sing. Finally some ghost of his long distant Victorian childhood emerged and he started. "Long live our gracious Queen."
Fred gave a little giggle and only Angel kept from smiling. Spike felt himself blushing. He had forgotten that particular curse of an English complexion. He stopped the song. "Sod this."
The demon was looking at him intently. "I need a little more. You can hum if you're embarrassed."
Spike scowled, then hummed a few more bars.
Lorne glanced around. "He's telling the truth." He turned to Angel "He's as much a pawn of the Power-That-Be and their prophecies as you are. Why not give the boy a bed and let him rest."
The two humans glanced at Angel and the vampire sighed. "Fine, let's put him in the room we used to keep for Wesley. And Fred, could you get the first-aid kit. We don't need him bleeding over everything."
Spike got up slowly. He was unsteady on his feet so Gunn grabbed him and half supported him as they went to a room with a bed. Fred joined them, with the first-aid kit and he sat on the edge of the bed as she bandaged the wound on his neck. They gave him a warm washcloth and he wiped the blood off his shoulder and chest. Finally he lay down and they left. As he pulled the blankets up, only his sire remained.
"What was that crack about my family getting killed?"
Spike closed his eyes wearily. "You killed your family after you got turned. Remember? You hated your family. Remember? I was being sarcastic and telling them that it's not safe to be related to you."
"No it isn't." Spike opened his eyes, surprised. His sire sounded sad, almost defeated.
Against his better judgement, he felt a stirring of sympathy. "What's going on, Angel? If you wanted me dead because of the Ring of Amara incident, all you had to do was leave me in the hospital. Why the questions? Whose Connor?"
He sire stood by the door and studied him. Finally he spoke. "You aren't the first member of our line they've done this to. They brought back Darla. Then when she finally wanted to remain human, they had Drusilla kill her and turn her. She . . ." Angel couldn't meet his eyes. "She suffered and now she's gone. Connor is her son." There was a pause. "He's my son."
Spike stared. "That's impossible."
Angel shook his head. "I know. But I have a son. And because he's my son, the child of prophecy, he's been kidnapped."
"You thought I was involved?"
"Wolfram and Hart, especially Lilah, were involved. I thought maybe you . . . Never mind. Get some sleep." Angel turned away. Spike watched him leave, stunned. He suddenly realized that somewhere in the last few minutes they had stopped being enemies. For over a hundred years, his rivalry and hatred of his sire had been one of the mainstays of his life and now all he could feel was pity.
Lorne entered, bringing a mug and some pills. Wordlessly Spike took the mug. "Hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate and some aspirin. It'll help you sleep. Sorry, but we don't have little marshmallows."
Spike took a sip, cautiously watching the demon. How much had the demon learned about him?
The demon sat down in a nearby chair and watched Spike take the medicine. Then, when he was almost finished with the drink, Lorne commented, "You know, LA isn't really the right town for a Victorian gentleman."
Spike choked. "What did you read?"
"Relax. I pick up psychic vibes, usually pretty vague."
Spike eyed the demon distrustfully. "How vague?"
Lorne smiled. "Enough to know that you've been given what you have only dreamed of having. You were a monster, now you are a man. Someone called you a soulless demon. Now you have a soul. Its time for you to go back home."
The demon smiled as Spike stared at him with open-mouthed amazement. He got up and took the empty cup and started to leave. He seemed to struggle with himself, then turned.
"There's a phone over there on the dresser. You really should call her now. You don't have a lot of time." The demon looked at Spike almost sympathetically, then left the room.
Spike sat stunned. He turned and looked across at the phone. He took a deep breath then got out of bed and went to the phone. It was time to call Buffy.
Continued in CHAPTER 8 - PROPHECIES AND SLAYERS
Main Site | Plain Text Title Listing | Site Map | Contact