Fidelius Charm (fih-DAY-lee-us)
"fidelis" L. trusty, faithful
Complex and powerful charm that hides a person or persons completely; their location is known only to their designated "Secret Keeper."
Used to try to protect Lily and James Potter from Voldemort. "An immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find -- unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"
From the Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowlings
Los Angeles, California, October 14, 2005
Sitting in what would be the lobby of a ramshackle hotel named the Hyperion, Spike was busily playing a video game while listening with half an ear to Angelus, who was at the moment stomping around the hotel in a temper tantrum.
“So the Council has Drusilla? And where exactly do they have her?” He stopped his stomping to eye the Lieutenant, who was making the report.
Smirking to himself, Spike decided to raise the volume of the video game. Nothing like being an annoyance, when Angelus was already on the edge.
“Spike!” Sure enough, Angelus spun around with a loud growl. “Turn that infernal game off before I break it over your head. And didn’t I tell you to move that in another room?”
“Ye-s,” Spike spoke slowly as if Angelus was retarded. “But if I moved it to another room, then I couldn’t be here to heed all of your important commands.”
“And when was the last time you listened to anything I had to say?” One long step and Angelus was standing next to Spike, pulling the video game controller out of his hand. Throwing it against the wall, he shattered it. “Now.” He walked over and turned the TV off. “Since you’re so eager to heed my orders, you can go and find out what exactly happened to Drusilla. Is she still alive, and if so, does the Council, in fact have her. And if they have her. . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Spike stood up with an air of disgust, wondering if aggravating Angelus had been such a good idea. Now he was stuck having to do something. Grabbing his duster, which had been thrown on one of the hotel’s settees, he was now the one to do the stomping. “And it was the last century that I listened to anything you had to say,” he mumbled under his breath, as it threw the front door of the Hyperion open and strolled out into the night air. “Poof.”
**
Actually Angelus’ task wasn’t that difficult, as all Spike had to do was give Faith a ring (she had left him her mobile number when she had paid him and Illyria a visit the month before), and then wait for her at a local pub. He had finished off a couple of pints when she arrived. It hadn’t taken long, since she had never left the LA area.
“Hey, Spike,” she entered the bar with her usual confident strut. “So what’s the news? I heard you were back in LA, but what’s up with your partner-in-crime? My sources say she isn’t in the area. Lovers’ spat?” She nudged him with her elbow, while giving the bartender her order.
“Sod off!” Spike pushed Faith’s arm away. “Illyria and I are not lovers, just mates.”
“Uh huh,” Faith grunted out with disbelief, as the bartender set a beer down in front of her. “Well then, just where is your new mate? You know, the one, who was once a demon goddess and ruled hell.”
“She did not rule hell, ya nit, sheez.” Spike did an eye roll. “I swear, you are the stupidest slayer I’ve ever met.”
“Whatever.” Faith shrugged carelessly. It was all semantics to her. Illyria had been a demon goddess, and she didn’t much care whether it was hell, earth, or some other planet the Old One had ruled. “So where is she?”
“Fishing for information, aren’t you love?” Spike gave her a grin. “Well, as it so happens, I’m in the market for the same, so how about we have a little exchange?”
“An exchange?” Faith mulled over Spike’s suggestion. “So you’ll tell me where Illyria is, and I’ll tell you. . .what?”
“About Drusilla.”
“Drusilla? And what makes you think I know anything about Drusilla?” Faith raised her hand to signal the bartender. “Another one?” she inquired.
“Need you ask?” Spike emptied his glass and then set it down on the bar. “I have sources too, and they tell me that the Council took Drusilla. Now I want to know if that’s true, if she’s still alive, well, undead, and where she is.”
“Not asking for too much, are you?” Faith slammed down a ten-spot on the bar. “And why, all-of-the-sudden, are you so interested in Drusilla?”
“All-of-the-sudden?” Spike feigned puzzlement. “How can you say that? For more than a century, Drusilla has been my black goddess, my salvation, who delivered me from a life of mediocrity, my. . . .”
“You can stop the bullshit,” Faith interrupted, as she lifted her now filled beer mug to her mouth. “I know for a fact that you and Drusilla have been broken up for years.”
“Well, yes,” Spike admitted. “But that was because I was under the delusion of being in love with the Slay-Buffy. But my head’s on straight now, and I realize that. . . .”
“Jesus, fucking Christ!” Faith interrupted again. “Will you stop the con job. Being an accomplished bullshitter myself, I know bullshit when I hear it. Just tell me the true reason why you’re suddenly so interested in Drusilla.”
“Alright.” Spike considered for a moment. “But if I tell you a few truths, then you’ll have to give me the info I want.”
“Deal,” Faith quickly promised, as she finished off her second beer. “But I think we need another round first. It’s your turn to pay.”
“Right.” Spike pulled out a few crumpled bills from his pocket. “But I’m not rolling in it, so any rounds after will have to be on you.”
“I’m in the same boat you are,” Faith said with a sigh, lamenting her lack of cash. Pausing a minute, she checked out the bar and its occupants. “But I tell you what, after we have our true confessions, how about hustling those two?” She pointed out a couple of half-drunk Fragilis demons standing by a pool table. “Then drinks will be on them.”
“Brilliant idea, pet.” Spike grinned widely. Mission accomplished while having some fun; unlife was looking up.
**
October 15, 2005
The very early hours of the next day found Faith and Spike weaving their way drunkenly back to Faith’s hotel.
“Okay, okay.” Spike shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “So you said that Red cast some kind of spell, so Drusilla is magically hidden.”
“Yep,” Faith said between hiccups. “Eyes got all black and shit. It was wild.”
“And the name of this spell?” Spike was genuinely puzzled. He had never heard of such magic.
“The name?” Faith stopped her weaving a moment to scratch her head. “Are you fucking kidding me? It was some Latin mumbo jumbo that sounded like it was about fifty letters long.”
“Bloody hell, Faith. I think you actually pay less attention than I do!”
“Well. . . .” A tiny voice inside Faith told her she should be offended by Spike’s insult, but she was too drunk to care. “Dawn explained it to me that it worked pretty much like the Fidelius Charm.”
“Harry Potter! They both yelled out at the same time and then burst out laughing. “So, Spikey.” Faith stumbled over a small bush, as they made their way into Budget Suite Hotel’s parking lot. “How is it that a big, bad vampire like yourself reads Harry Potter?”
“I guess when I found out that they were the books of choice of the Slayers,” Spike replied as he watched Faith fumble for her hotel key. “So,” he immediately got back to the subject at hand. “This spell means that it’s pretty much impossible for anyone to find where the Council is hiding Dru?”
“As far as I understand it, yes.” Faith finally managed to work the hotel key and open the door. “So now you can go and report to Angelus that even if he were to employ the services of a witch or warlock, he still wouldn’t be able to locate her.”
“Yeah, he’ll have a real arse-on about this,” Spike said gloomily.
“Man.” Faith was sympathetic, as she invited Spike into the room. She knew first hand what Angelus was like when he was in the mood. “You’d think after getting his happy with the love-of-his-life, he’d be in a better temper.”
“And that’s something else that’s peculiar.” Spike threw himself down onto the room’s couch. “He and Buffy aren’t even together. She’s in Europe with her latest squeeze, thee Immortal.”
“I heard she was in Europe but hadn’t heard that she was hooked up with the Immortal again. So-o, what’s she up to in Europe?” Faith couldn’t pass up the chance to fish for more information.
“Don’t have the foggiest, love,” Spike said truthfully, as Faith threw off her jacket and walked into the kitchenette.
“So, Spike,” she called over her shoulder, as she rummaged around in the refrigerator. “Why exactly are you siding with Angelus now? I thought you had a soul, and as we all know, Angelus is one evil bastard.”
“Because, because.” Spike had no idea how to explain to her. “He followed me to northern Alaska, and, and. . . .”
“Spanked you until you agreed?” Faith asked with a wicked grin.
“Fuck yo. . . .” Spike began, but then realized that wasn’t far from the truth. “Well, it wasn’t a spanking, more like needles through the knackers.”
“Ohh, ouch!” Faith winced in sympathy, as she pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels from the refrigerator. Grabbing a tray of ice and two plastic hotel cups, she joined Spike on the couch. “So Angelus tortures you some, and you just give in? Spike, you’re not the vampire I thought you were.”
Spike took the plastic cup from Faith, even though he was giving her a look of disgust. “It wasn’t the torture, pet, it was, it was,” he fumbled for an explanation. “It was loyalty, familial loyalty.”
“Give me a fucking break.” Faith poured out bourbon in both cups. “Since when are you and Angelus family?”
“”Since when?” Spike scowled, as he grabbed a few cubes of ice and dropped them in his cup. “Faith, you are such a nit. Angelus is my Sire, my GrandSire, so. . . .”
“Oh, just because he’s the vampire, who made the vampire, who made you, he’s family, and you owe him loyalty?” Faith interrupted. “Bullshit! Because if memory serves me, Angel had no qualms in killing the vampire, who made him, Darla, and two of his, what’s the term you use?” She snapped her fingers, thinking hard. “Oh yeah, childe. He killed two of his childes. . . .”
“Childer!” Now it was Spike’s turn to interrupt. “One is a childe, and two or more is childer. Bloody hell, you’re a vampire slayer, know something about your subjects. And for the record he did those deeds, when he was souled, so. . . .”
“He would never have done them as Angelus. Okay, but what about you, Spike?” Faith leaned in closer. “You’re soulded now, so I ask again, how can you side with him?”
“Bloody hell!” Spike murmured, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Because there’s a blood tie, that I can’t ignore, but,” he paused to take a swig of Jack Daniels. “I don’t want this war, and in fact I’m willing to lie, cheat, go behind his back to prevent it. So what do you say you help me out?”
"I’m with you, buddy boy.” Faith raised her cup. “I’m still recovering from the last one, two wars.”
“So here’s to the upcoming war.” Spike raised his cup and clinked it with Faith’s. “May it never happen.”
**
Evening of that same day, both vampire and slayer were soundly passed out on the bed. They had worked their way into the bedroom area with the intention of having a good time, but the liquor proved stronger than both of them. They slept the day away, until a loud pounding on the door roused them.
“Blo-ody hell!” Spike sat up slowly, holding his head. He had suffered many hangovers both as a human and a vampire and immediately knew that this one was going to be a doozy. “Faith.” He gave her a shove. “Expecting someone?”
“Probably one of the junior slayerettes, wondering where I’ve been all day,” Faith said with a groan, as she raised her head up off the pillow. She wasn’t in any better shape than Spike.
“Well, tell them to bring us some aspirin, and then to get lost.” Falling back down on the bed, Spike closed his eyes with a grateful moan.
Faith wasn’t even half-way to the door, when the pounding became more forceful and a voice yelled out, “Spike!”
Stopping in her tracks, Faith looked over at Spike. “It’s not the slayerettes, it’s your daddy, so how about you answer the door, and you can have him bring us some aspirin.”
“Fuckin’ell!” Spike sat up, this time too fast, which made his head pound even more. “How the bloody hell did Poofy manage to track me down here?” he grumbled, as he made his way through the hotel room on shaky legs. Opening the door, he stared out with bleary eyes at an enraged Angelus, backed up by a group of minions.
“Spike!” Angelus reached in to grab his wayward Childe by the throat but was stopped short by an invisible barrier.
“Oh, we had one of those anti-vampire spells put on each of our rooms,” Faith explained between yawns. “So you. . . .” She paused as a huge yawn overtook her. “Can’t enter without an invitation.”
“You could have said that before I opened the door.” Spike turned and gave Faith a killing glare.
“I send you out on a mission of information gathering, and instead you decide to socialize with the enemy.” Angelus was beyond enraged, and at that moment the only thing that saved Spike’s life was that he was in the sanctuary of a slayer’s room.
“Enemy?” Faith feigned surprise. “Doesn’t seem all that long ago that I was helping you end of the reign of darkness in LA, and of course, I was with Spike here battling the First back in Sunnydale.” Approaching the door, she wrapped her arms around Spike in a friendly manner, while giving Angelus a sweeter than sweet smile. “Don’t you remember? I sure do because it was such a trip sharing your memories. That hair, and oh yeah, Barry Manilow.”
Spike couldn’t help but snicker, which prompted a loud growl and a hard crash that shook the room, as Angelus banged hard into the invisible barrier. At that moment, all he wanted was to get his hands on both Spike and Faith.
“Spike!” Angel gritted out through clenched teeth. “Come out here now, or I’ll burn this hotel down.”
“Oh, shit.! That sounds like a threat.” Faith turned her head and addressed Spike. “So that means I better do something like. . . .” She looked around the hotel room for her cell phone. “Call my army of slayers to come fight off the big, bad vampire and his minions.”
“Fuckin’ell, Faith!” Spike mumbled. “You’re not suppose to antagonize him. Remember, the whole, let’s avoid a war.” Reaching over to the couch, he grabbed his boots and coat, figuring the best way to prevent the hostilities from escalating was to do what Angelus wanted. Giving Faith a nod, he walked out of the hotel room.
**
October 16, 2005
Chained to the bed naked, Spike stared up at the ceiling and counted the cracks. He was bored and wished Angelus would hurry up with his punishment. It would be nice to get it over with and go on with his unlife, but the older vampire was taking his time, pacing back and forth alongside of the bed.
“So basically the only information that Faith wanted from you was the whereabouts of Illyria?”
“Yeah, seems the Council is still quite interested in Old Blue,” Spike answered obediently. Anything to get the show on the road.
“Interested or afraid?” Angelus pondered.
Spike shrugged, rattling the chains.
“And you say that Faith told you that Drusilla is in the Council’s custody, and that she’s been magically hidden by a spell cast by Willow?”
“Ye-s,” Spike answered slowly, wondering why Angelus thought it necessary to go over everything twice. “Faith was probably lying though, cause I never heard of any such magic.”
“It’s powerful magic.” Angelus stopped his pacing and stared off into space. “Only high-level magic users can cast such spells.”
“Really?” Spike was astonished, speculating for the first time if J.K. Rowlings was perhaps a witch.
“Yes.” Angelus folded his arms across his chest and leaned up against the wall. “And my guess is that the Council probably has Connor magically hidden also.”
Spike shrugged again; he had never gotten around to asking Faith about Connor. “So now what?” he asked with the desperate hope that maybe Angelus would now just forget the whole defeating-the-Council-and-taking-over-the-world plan.
“I think,” Angelus spoke slowly. “We need to go back north and find your friend. I may not have Dru and Connor to back me up, but an Old One would make a fine substitute.”
“She’s not that mighty anymore,” Spike said quickly, looking for any argument that would dissuade Angelus. “Wesley shot her with. . . .”
“I know what Wesley did,” Angelus interrupted. “I was there. Illyria isn’t what she used to be, but she’s still a powerful being, old, and cunning. That’s why the Council is so concerned about her whereabouts. They‘re going to try and get to her, so we need to get to her first. And you‘re going to help me do that.”
Marshalling his thoughts, Spike opened his mouth to argue some more, but was forestalled by a finger to his lips. “Shh,” Angelus warned. “You’re already skating on thin ice, boy, don’t make things worse for yourself.”
“I told Illyria to go where she couldn’t be found, so she’s probably hiding in some snow bank in northern Canada. It will be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Spike protested despite Angelus’ warning.
“Well, then I guess the sooner we start looking the better.” Angelus ran a hand down Spike’s body. “I’ll make the arrangements, and we’ll set-off at sunset.”
Body tensing, Spike braced himself for some pain; it was punishment time. But Angelus’ hand kept up a steady, gentle massage, which eventually worked itself down to Spike’s genitals, and then more caresses on his upper thighs, penis, and testicles. Throwing his head back, he tried to stop his breathing, an unfortunate human habit he continued to cling to whenever in pain or aroused.
“So, Childe.” Angelus climbed up on the bed and spread Spike’s legs as wide as the chains would allow, settling between them. “Anymore arguments you want to throw at your Sire?”
“You. . .are. . .not. . .my. . .Sire,” Spike slowly gritted out, as he suppressed a moan. Now the hand was softly stroking his anal ring.
“Tch, tch.” Angelus shook his head as if in disappointment, while grabbing a pillow and shoving it under Spike’s hips. His own cock was hard and throbbing. “Such a disobedient Childe. I really must correct that.”
“If you’re going to punish me, then just do it.” Handling pain from Angelus was easy for Spike, but handling pleasure was a whole different animal.
Pants unzipped, cock out, Angelus bit his tongue and then spit a mixture of blood and salvia on his hand. “Tell me who I am,” he ordered, as he spread the blood and spit lubricant on the head of his penis.
“Sod off!” Spike knew exactly how this argument was going to end, but he couldn’t help but play it out anyway.
“Tell me who I am.” Angelus’ voice became louder, as he lined himself up and then thrust in hard.
Biting his lip hard, Spike stopped himself from yelling out. He had experienced sex with Angelus before and knew of its pain, but also knew that the pain would soon dull. He willed himself to relax, although now Angelus was grinding his pubic bone into his sensitive perineum.
“Tell me who I am, Childe,” Angelus growled out, as his fangs lengthened.
“Fuck of. . . .” Spike began, but teeth ripping into his carotid artery stopped his ability to speak. His blood was drained quickly, and soon he was lightheaded, his vision fuzzy, consciousness seeping away. But before he became totally comatose, he felt Angelus’ fangs withdraw from him.
“Drink, Childe.” A bleeding wrist was held to his mouth. The blood tasted of power, strength, and oneness. It tasted of family, of Sire and Childe.
“Now tell me who I am,” the voice whispered again, as the wrist was wrenched from his mouth but stayed tantalizingly close.
“My Sire,” Spike whispered back, as he eagerly latched onto Angelus’ bleeding wrist again. The blood was ambrosia; he had to have it.
“That’s my boy.” A hand stroked through his hair. “And tonight we’ll start our search, and you’ll take me to Illyria.”
**
It was late afternoon before Spike could arouse himself from his dead-like sleep. Groaning, he waited for the room to stop spinning, realizing that getting pissed and having his blood drained in a twenty-four hour period was a lethal combination, and something to be avoided in the future. He tried to sit-up, but that only made him dizzier, which made his stomach roll. He wanted to heave.
Groaning again, he gathered his strength to call for a minion. Sustenance would help. Opening his mouth, he focused on yelling out, when suddenly someone was at the side of the bed.
“Shh.” Illyria knelt down to look him in the face. “Don’t make a sound. I’m here to rescue you.”
****