Musical Wars
Chapter 9
Groaning his way into consciousness, Xander reached up to feel the sore, swollen flesh around his neck. The memory of Angel's fury came a little slower, but as his brain slowly woke up with the rest of him, Xander could feel the shame and fear nearly overwhelm him. Xander opened his eyes to see the exposed beams and pipes of a basement. Correction--a dirty basement. Xander watched a spider's web highlighted by the dim sun trickling in through a high window. Even Gunn had a nicer basement.
Closing his eyes against the head ache that threatened to pound out the back of his head, Xander rolled toward the side of the narrow bed. The sound of chains clinking came as a surprise.
"So, you're awake."
Xander jumped at the sound of Angel's voice, and the chain rattled as it pulled tight against his ankle. Turning, he saw the vampire sitting on a stool in the shadowed corner of the room. Immediately, Xander could feel the slippery panic of Baby circling in the back of his mind. Baby would have him throw himself on the ground and cringe and beg. However, Xander knew how well that worked.
He remembered being on the phone with his father, struggling to hold back tears as he begged Tony Harris to come to that first birthday after the divorce. Not only had his father not come, but the next time he talked to his father, the man had accused Xander of turning into a sissy. No matter what Baby wanted, Xander wasn't going to repeat that mistake.
"Angel," he said, fighting to keep his voice even as he got himself straightened up. The chain bolted to the wall didn't give him quite enough chain to put his one foot on the ground, and so he tucked his legs under him Indian style. Even after years of being the weak, vulnerable one, he found himself surprised at the depth of his fear as he faced Angel.
"You have control of yourself again?" Angel asked without moving out of the dark corner. Xander picked at an edge of the blanket, partially pulling it over his lap.
He hadn't been the one to beat Angel unconscious, so the whole 'who had self control issues' debate raged in his own mind. Luckily, he managed to avoid saying all the not-so-nice things he was thinking. His jeans had a long tear from the left knee down to the cuff from the fight which was closer to a smack-down, and he tucked an edge of the blanket into the rip, shrugging for an answer. Angel sighed.
"Hey, Gel-boy, I told you it wasn't his fault."
Xander jumped as Faith appeared in the open doorway at the top of the steps. Even though Xander only glared for a second, Angel growled, and Xander dropped his eyes down to the blanket. Right. He wasn't a favored childe. He wasn't even a childe. He was a minion whose existence depended on pleasing the master of the line.
Xander sneaked a glance toward Angel, but the older vampire watched Faith with a blank expression. He returned to picking at the blanket and tucking it into the rip. Tuck. Pick. Pick. Tuck.
"He would have fed on you," Angel said. Xander would have objected, but he didn't think anyone wanted his opinion. Besides, if he were honest, he just wanted to kill her, which probably wouldn't get him added to anyone's Christmas list.
"A fledge? Not even close," Faith dismissed with a snort. Pick. Tuck. Tuck.
"He looked like he was winning."
Xander ignored Baby's whine; the demon wanted Angel's approval, only the stupid demon didn't understand that Angel didn't approve. Hell, Angel would stake him if he tried it again. Xander suddenly knew that. Well, that would be one way to end it.
"We were just working out some aggression, playing a little," Faith argued. Xander would have disagreed, but his opinion didn't seem to matter right now.
"He's dangerous."
"Newsflash, vamp-man, most people are if you push them hard enough."
"Faith." Angel's voice was dark with warning.
"Angel," Faith snapped back with narrowed eyes. Oh yeah, this was going well. Pick. Tuck. Pick.
"Where were you going?" Angel barked, and Xander didn't respond until Angel strode toward him, fists clenched. Oh, that one was for him.
"No where!" Xander didn't mean to flinch back, but then he did lots of things he didn't mean to.
"To the court?" Angel asked darkly as he closed the distance, standing just at the edge of Xander's cot and glaring down. Xander struggled against terror that stole control of his limbs for a half second. Smiling sarcastically, he looked up.
"That's your thing, isn't it? Playing both sides?"
Angel flashed into game face, and Xander flinched back so far that he clocked himself on the concrete wall, his head making an appropriate hollow thump. Xander reached up to rub the sore spot as Faith stepped forward.
"Whoa, let's all back off a bit. Boy wasn't doing anything but staring at nothing and doing a mighty fine impression of you when you have a stick up your ass," Faith broke in. Somehow, hearing her take his side just made Xander feel—well—even worse. Yep, a slayer had to wade in and save him. When he had jerked, Xander had pulled the blanket out of the tear in his jeans, and now he focused on tucking it back in.
"You don't know what's going on here," Angel said through tightly clenched teeth.
"Yeah, and you're all knowing everything vamp. Look, Xan hasn't done anything to justify knocking his ass out or chaining him up."
"He tried to eat you."
"Yeah, like you *never* did that," Faith sneered so sarcastically that Xander felt a need to flinch for her. Angel took a step toward her, nearly vibrating with rage, but Faith just crossed her arms and stared back at him.
"Which is why I understand him. Having a demon always whispering, having these feelings rolling around in your gut just waiting for a chance to slip out, it's not an easy way to live," Angel's voice dropped into a soft plea that made Baby even grumpier. "It took me a hundred years to sort out ways to keep my demon from slipping out, and not everyone I met survived."
Angel turned his back on Faith and retreated to the far wall where he faced the grey cinderblock, his voice dull. "Who do you want him to lose control around? What happens when Willow cuts herself on a knife and the warm smell of blood overwhelms him? What if Tara does her yoga stretches and the sight of her curved neck makes him slip for just one second?" Angel turned around. "What do I do when he loses control and kills one of you, because I'm telling you right now that I don't have it in me to forgive him, or myself, if you underestimate just how much control the demon has.
Faith uncrossed her arms and shook her head slowly. "Xander and I just got out of hand, and I'm the one who started that boulder rolling downhill," she explained.
"Exactly. Things got out of control, and with the demon inside him, they always will." Angel pointed out. "I'll do my best to pull the demon out, and I know a few demons in L.A. who might have suggestions on freeing Xander from the beast, but this isn't a debate. Xander and I will be heading back to LA tonight."
As the two stared each other down, Xander reviewed the drive back to L.A. Maybe there was a nice tall bridge he could jump off between here and there… He certainly didn't want to live the rest of his life chained in Angel's basement. Hell, he could go his whole life without ever seeing Angel again, and he'd be happy. Baby circled uncomfortably, randomly growling at nothing and everything.
Faith remained silent for a long time, and Xander focused on picking at the thin blanket.
"Whatever, but I'll be down to visit, and the boy better still have all his parts attached," Faith warned.
Faith started heading for the stairs, and Xander watched her slowly leave, her eyes going from him to Angel even as she climbed.. Nice to know someone gave a damn, even if he really didn't get the whole reason why she gave a damn.
"Faith?" Xander called. Angel glowered at him, and Baby wailed unhappily at obviously pissing master off, but Xander didn't really have much to lose since he had a feeling he was going to do that a whole lot in the near future.
"Yeah?" Faith stopped and leaned over the railing.
"Things are going kinda wonky with the court," Xander warned her. "Spike," Xander paused, the name still ripping a big vampire sized hole in his gut, "he thought something was up."
"What did he say?" Angel demanded as he stepped forward. Xander fought to keep his eyes up and stare back.
"He was surprised… there were zombies and all sorts of demons, I think one might have been a Mohra. The Anointed One told him to steer clear of vampire hunters and someone named Vahrall."
"Vahrall demons?" For the first time, Angel didn't sound even remotely pissed. In fact, that might have been worry on his face as he exchanged looks with Faith. "And a Mohra."
"I'm suddenly thinking we might be fucked," Faith said seriously.
"Are you sure it was a Mohra?" Angel asked.
Xander felt a familiar frustration. Yeah, he never made honor roll or showed much common sense, but it'd be nice if someone didn't think he was completely stupid. Despite Baby's distress, Xander handled it the way he always handled being the geek, the nebbish, the dork with the wrong clothes—sarcasm.
"They're kinda unique, and Spike… he made me study," Xander yanked the corner of the blanket out of his jeans. "So, I have to pee. Are you going to let me use a bathroom or should I just pick a section of wall and aim?"
Angel now looked shocked. "I have the key," he finally answered and Xander stuck his chained leg out aggressively.
Angel paused. "But know this--you are not my childe, and I will stake you if you even think of attacking anyone again. Understand?" Angel leaned close until their noses almost touched. "And I don't just mean my friends--I mean anyone. You so much as growl at a grandmother on the street, and I will put this through your chest."
Xander froze, the sharp point of a stake Angel had pulled from his waist pressing into the flesh over Xander's heart.
"Understand?" Angel repeated, the stake in one hand and the key in the other. Xander nodded with a dry mouth.
~o0o~
Spike woke slowly, groaning as reality returned with painful clarity. Fucking hell. His head pounded like the whole drum section of one of those wretched concerts Darla had dragged him to so often as a fledge. Neither the memory nor the pain made him feel particularly better as he considered the while walls of his cell.
Humans in white coats wandered past the glass wall of the cell, clipboards in hand, and Spike growled as he considered the best way to make them pay for whatever pain he felt. A chain rattled, and Spike exploded into motion, ripping at the manacle that kept him chained, even in the cell.
His attempts to pull loose failed, and even worse, the soddin' idiots on the other side of the glass weren't even impressed with his efforts, which were damn impressive.
"Hostile 7," a human voice announced from the far side of the glass wall.
"Standard vampire?"
"Captured quadrant 5, east of the campus," the first answered. Spike growled at being called standard anything.
"Well, hopefully we'll get some results from this one, or we're going to join Dr. Walsh for a nice round of ice bowling in Antarctica." A white-coated doctor with eyes too far apart for his face wrote something on a clipboard
"I don't know how they expect us to work like this." An older man with gray, buzz-cut hair snorted his disgust. "Seven specimens, six of them from the same subgroup, and yet we're expected to have results."
Spike shook his head, forcing his demon face back as he stared out the glass wall. Right, so this was balls over tits. Spike watched with narrowed eyes as the two humans finished their notes and walked away, still complaining.
"Dr. Engelman," yelled a voice that sounded vaguely familiar, and a tall man came running by in soldier-boy clothes. "Graham, he's sick again."
The doctor with funky eyes stopped and shoved his clipboard at the grey-haired one before he started running down the hallway, the gray-haired man hurrying close behind.
As the sound of footsteps echoed away, Spike looked around. Whoever decorated had taken the minimalist concept way too far with white tiles on every surface.
"Hey, I'm Gary," a voice hissed from next door. Spike sniffed the air, annoyed by how the glass dulled his ability to scent his neighbor in the next cell.
"Sod off," Spike finally answered as he caught a whiff of something young… still stinking of grave and dead flesh young.
"Man, I know things. Like, they drug the blood to keep us calm, and some of the men who come through here… they stink of vampire rot."
Spike snarled at the idiot even as he appreciated the other vamp's stupidity. In cases like this, information meant everything.
"Yeah?" he said as he casually leaned against the white wall separating them. "What the hell would you know about vampire rot? You still stink of your grave?"
"Another vamp, Antonio, he told me," Gary assured him. Gary's voice came again, slightly louder. "Hey, Antonio, there's a new one, and he knows what vampire rot is too."
"Leave me alone." The voice sounded tired, but at least it had some authority behind it.
"Aw, come on," Gary pleaded, the sound giving Spike an urge to grind the younger vamp's face into the floor. He was weak. Git probably wouldn't survive one day in the court.
"If he knows what it is, bug him for stories for a while."
"Man, come on."
"Gary, if we ever get out of here, I'm going to rip your tongue out, you know this, yes?" Antonio answered, his Spanish accent thicker now.
Right, time to make his presence known. "Just wonderin' how soldier boys would develop vampire rot. Not like they're vampires starving for blood and slowly rotting to make their masters happy."
Gary and Antonio both fell silent, even the sounds of restless feet stopping as Spike used his sire's voice.
"No," Antonio answered slowly. "But they drink vampire blood."
"Enough to get rot?" Spike asked, surprised. Why the hell would someone willingly suffer the agony of rot? He remembered Angelus whipping his back open and then dangling some girl just out of range. Spike would twitch in agony as the unhealed flesh slowly turned from undead to dead as the lack of blood drained him of his power. Angelus would keep up the game for days, sometimes cutting his own wrist and nancy-boy prancing just out of range as Spike desperately lunged at him, sometimes letting prey loose in the same room so that Spike crawled toward the food, unable to catch up with it.
Eventually Darla would complain about the smell, and Angelus would bring him either some tied up beauty or a shriveled cleaning woman who still stunk of Borax and sweat. The best days would be when Spike ignored his pain long enough to time his attack just right to catch the prey and earn his own healing blood.
"Where the bloody hell are we, and what the bloody hell are these wankers up to?" Spike demanded.
"Welcome to the Initiative," Antonio offered. "And if anyone knows what they're up to, they'd be ahead of us. At this point, I'm not sure that even these pendejos know what they're doing."
"Great," Spike said as he sucked on his fangs in frustration. Get free, find his childe, and eat the pendejos. Worked for him.