Sunnydale, California, April 19, 1998
Patrolling half-heartedly around the Sunnydale cemetery, the Scooby gang was fighting the Sunday night blues. And it wasn’t just the ordinary Sunday night blues, it was the Sunday night blues signaling the end of their Easter vacation.
“So how’s the translation of the transliteration annals for the ritual of the undead going?” Cordelia asked Willow, who clomped next to her through the cemetery.
“Cordy,” Xander warned, knowing that that very subject was not one to be bringing up in the company of Spike. He marveled at how Cordelia could always say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
“Yes, Willow.” Spike, who was ahead of them with Buffty, swung around. “Tell us how close you’re getting to translating the ritual.” he said, his voice filled with sarcasm.
Willow sighed, as she addressed Cordy. “I managed to piece together the software program that Ms. Calendar developed for translating the ritual, but other than a preliminary start, I haven’t been able to do much else. Mr. Toben has just not been around to help me.”
“Bloody knob jockey has to keep his master happy,” Spike muttered spitefully, which earned him a reproachful look from Buffy.
“We know that Chax is very old and very dangerous. Give Toben some credit; it can’t be easy trying to smooth things with him on a daily basis.”
“I still think that we should have gone with my plan and fired the Law Rocket Launcher at this Chax. The old goat couldn’t have survived that.”
“We don’t know that ,” Buffy argued. “In fact, we still don’t know much about him, other than he’s really, really old, and at one time he kept company with the devil himself.”
“Right,” Willow piped up. “So if we launched an attack and it failed, then we’d not only have Angelus, Penn, and Drusilla to content with, but him too. Too much of a risk, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Spike turned back and returned to stomping ahead. His posture and heavy footsteps indicated his dark mood.
“It will get done,” Buffy tried to reassure him. “As soon as Toben and Chax come back from Vegas, we’ll be able to recurse your dad, and this should all happen by the time the school year ends. I’ll bet money on it.”
Instead of his usual witty comeback, Spike only nodded his head and said, “right, Slayer,” as he marched ahead of the rest.
**
Las Vegas, Nevada
“Recursing Angelus is an affront against nature. How would you like it if someone cursed you, so you were demon like? And the boy, the boy belongs to his father. It’s the natural order of things, even God himself wouldn’t interfere with a father’s child.”
The quarrel had started before they even had breakfast, and Toben was finding that for every argument he had for returning to Sunnydale, Chax had a counter argument.
“It’s just that, that,” Toben paused to take a breath. He, himself wasn’t sure why it was so very important to him that he help Spike and Angel, except something had touched him about Spike’s plight. A half-demon child, whose father was the infamous Angelus, who chummed with Slayer and whose only goal was to just finish High School. “He’s so young, and,” he stopped and sighed, like Chax would have any idea what it was like for a teenage boy in this world.
“And you still think you’re an angel, who goes around saving everyone and anyone.” Chax threw himself into a cushy chair of their penthouse suite, one leg over the chair’s arm. “Well, news flash for you, you’re mine now, and saving the world isn’t your job anymore. Course, if I were to decide to return to Sunnydale, what would you do for me?”
Toben didn’t answer, as he studied his master closely. There was nothing more he could give or do for Chax, since the demon owned him body and soul. He was being toyed with. “What do you have in mind?” he asked after a few moments of consideration.
“Hmm.” Chax pursed his lips, pretending to think hard. “You could always entertain a few of my friends. I might find that amusing.”
A shiver ran up Toben’s spine, as he understood perfectly what Chax was hinting at. A gang-bang with him as the main course. He looked over at the demon, whose dark blue eyes were piercingly cold. “You don’t mean,” he faltered. He had witnessed a few demon gang-bangs since he had been with Chax, and they had been the most horrifying thing he had ever seen .
Chax shrugged, flashing a wide grin. “I don’t know, just a thought.” Standing, he started for the kitchen; he needed some coffee. Brushing Toben’s shoulder as he passed, he asked, “is this kid worth that?”
Watching Chax saunter into the kitchen, Toben swallowed hard a few times, his stomach in knots.
**
Sunnydale, California, May 1, 1998
“And we’re quite certain that it was vampires that stole that artifact?” Giles pushed his glasses up his nose, as he stared across the library counter at Buffy and Spike.
Buffy exchanged a look with Spike before answering. “Kind a looked like vamps, but. . . .”
“Who gives a flying fuck if it was vamps, demons, or aliens from outer space,” Spike broke in rudely. “What progress did you and Willow make with the translation of the transliteration annals for the ritual of the undead?”
“We’re, we’re making a bit,” Giles hedged. Without Jenny or Toben’s knowledge, he and Willow were working in the dark.
“Right.” Spike dropped into the nearest library chair with an air of defeat. He had heard the whole, we’re-making-a-bit-of-progress before, which he knew translated into we-have-no-idea-what-we’re-doing. “I’ll be an old man before my Sire is ever recursed.”
“Yes, well, we’ll keep toiling away, but in the meantime, I would like you. . . .” He addressed both Buffy and Spike. “To investigate this stolen artifact. I want to know who stole it and why.”
“Right, then.” Spike stood up. Might as well relieve some frustration by kicking some bad guy’s arse. “Come on, Slayer, let’s see who we can beat the information out of,” he broke off, as the library doors swung open, and Christian Toben walked in. “You! I suppose you were in Vegas again, living it. . . .” A sharp elbow in the ribs from Buffy cut him off.
“Chax was having too much fun in Vegas, couldn’t get him to leave,” Toben muttered staring at the floor with embarrassment.
“Well, it is good to see you.” Giles looked up from the text that he had copied off the artifact at the Sunnydale Museum of Natural History, the now stolen artifact. “I must admit that Willow and I are at a dead end with the transliteration annals for the ritual of the undead, but now that you’re here. . . .”
“We have another problem,” Toben interrupted. “Angelus has the tomb of Acathla, and his intention is call forth the demon and suck this world into hell.”
**
May 2, 1998
“So off to help the Slayer to prevent the world from ending?” Chax asked, as he sat up in bed, and leaned back, striking a casual pose.
Coming out of the shower, Toben couldn’t help but give the demon the eye. Chax cut a beautiful figure with his powerful physique and remarkable blue eyes. “We’re almost finished translating the transliteration annals for the ritual of the undead. If we can recurse Angelus before he awakes Acathla, then we can save this world from being sucked into a demon dimension.”
Chax let out a short laugh, as he raised his arms and put his hands behind his head. “You’ve got time; Angelus doesn’t know how to awaken Acathla. . .yet.”
“Doesn’t know. . .how. . . .” Surprise turned into elation, which quickly turned into suspicion. “How do you know that?” He frowned at Chax, trying to ignore the bulging biceps and muscular chest. As soon as the question was out, Toben regretted it and resisted the urge to hit himself in the forehead. A day didn’t go by, when a multitude of demons lined themselves outside of their doors, hoping to get a word with the ancient demon. Many considered him godlike. Consequently, Chax was never out of the loop; he knew the comings and goings of every demon within a thousand mile radius.
“A little birdie told me.” Chax flashed a toothy grin. “Now come here.”
Two steps and as soon as Toben was in arms’ reach, he was pulled roughly down onto the bed. He knew that struggling was pointless and only enraged his master, so he kept himself perfectly still and submissive. But to his astonishment, Chax did nothing violent, but began to helpfully button up his shirt.
“Go save the world, bitch, that’s what you’re good at,” he whispered into Toben’s ear.
Rising very slowly, Toben waited for the other shoe to drop. As usual he didn’t know why Chax had suddenly decided to humor him and return to Sunnydale, and why the demon was permitting him to work with the Slayer against Angelus.
Chax leaned close, and Toben froze, but again all there was, was a whisper, “You smell sexy; don’t keep me waiting too late tonight.”
Toben nodded, as he slowly stood up, wondering for the umpteenth time what quality or qualities he had that seemed to intrigue this centuries old demon.
**
“Almost there, Spike,” Toben called across the library to announce that he and Willow had just about completed the translation of the transliteration annals for the ritual of the undead.
Sitting at a library table with Buffy, Xander, and Cordelia, Spike gave the thumb-up sign, while slamming shut the book that was in front of him. “Nothing on Acathla here, next,” he said, while grabbing another book off the huge stack that Giles had given them.
“Explain to me again, why we’re researching this Acathla?” Xander immediately took advantage of the slight interruption to air his concerns. “I mean, since Toben there has the recipe to recurse Angel, then there shouldn’t be any awakening of the demon-who-will-suck-us-into-hell. So why do we have to find out his life story?”
“Back-up in case something goes wrong,” Buffy said, just as happy as Xander that there was an excuse to take a break from their research. Research was not her forte, and most of the time, she got out of it because she was the slayer, the person of action, but tonight, Giles had even decided to forego her usual patrol, stating that there was more of a need for she and Spike to help research Acathla.
“Don’t even think it.” Spike waved a hand at her, his eyes skimming rapidly over the pages of his next text. “We’re going to recurse my Sire, bury Acathla’s tomb half-way to China, and by Monday life should be back to normal.”
The words had barely left his mouth, when the library doors swung open with a bang and in marched Angelus, followed by Drusilla, a now healthy Penn, and an army of minions.
“You people really need to starting posting guards,” he said with a sneer, as his eyes swept over the room’s occupants, stopping on Spike. “And you, boy, I’ve had enough of playing hide-n-seek with you.” His eyes glowed yellow, and his fangs elongated. “It’s time you came to daddy.”
**
May 2, 1998
Sitting in Sunnydale General Hospital next to a comatose Willow, Buffy took her dear friend’s hand, as she fought back the tears. Last evening’s events kept flashing through her mind like a bad nightmare. All of them trying to fight off Angelus and his army, but there had been too many of them. Again, she saw and heard the sickening sound of Xander’s arm being broken, the bookcase crashing down on Willow, the screams and yells of pain from all of them. And the blood. She closed her eyes, and everything was red, as Christian Toben fell to the floor, clutching his throat from Drusilla‘s razor sharp fingernail, blood spewing and there had been nothing she could do about any of it.
“Buffy.” Her name was spoken softly, and she opened her eyes to the welcome sight of Cordelia and Xander, whose arm was in a cast, but looking more-or-less fine.
“Guys.” She sprung up and hugged them both. “Thank God, you’re alright.”
The three stood together for a few long moments before Cordelia stepped back and stared over at Willow. “How is she?”
“We’re waiting,” Buffy said with a sigh. “And you? There was so much confusion, that I lost track of. . .of,” she broke-off too embarrassed to admit that she had failed all of her friends.
For once Cordelia was empathetic, as she immediately said, “I ran. I think I made it through three counties before I realized no one was chasing me. Not too brave.”
“It was the right thing to do,” Buffy reassured her; in that instant she had never felt closer to Cordy
“Buffy.” Xander cleared his throat. “We were just in Mr. Toben’s room, and. . . .”
“Did he take a turn for the worse?” Buffy asked with alarm.
“No, still unconscious.” Xander shook his head. “But I think you need to go and check on him.” He exchanged a long look with Cordelia. “We’ll stay here with Willow.”
“Okay,” Buffy didn’t argue, as she turned and exited the hospital room. Since both Toben and Willow’s conditions were serious, they were on the same floor, so it was a short walk to his room. Entering it, she wasn’t surprised to see Chax at Toben’s bedside; what she was surprised to see was the demon bending over Toben, running his hand gently through the ex-angel’s hair.
“Slayer,” he hissed out. He had sensed her coming before she had arrived. “What the hell happened last night?”
“We were attacked by Angelus and his crew.” Buffy saw no need to lie to the demon.
Letting out a short laugh, Chax straightened up and faced Buffy. “I always admired Angelus for his ballsiness; the man was little more than a fledgling when he defied old Heinrich to his face and survived. But now, now, he picked the wrong demon to cross.”
“The curse, if we can just recurse him,” Buffy started, but was immediately stopped, as Chax held up a hand.
“He doesn’t get off by being recursed. He dared to touch something that was mine, so he’s going to pay the price.”
Buffy nodded. She had known that it was unlikely that Chax would agree to just recursing Angel, but she had to at least give it a shot.
“I know where Angelus is hiding out, and I also know that he’s got your Watcher. He’s torturing him now, trying to dig the secret on how to awake Acathla. Come with me, and you can save him.”
“And Spike?”
“Perhaps you can save him too, although it’s possible that Angelus has already turned him.”
Buffy’s heart sank, but she put on a businesslike front, as she continued to make a pact with the demon. “Fine, I’ll get Xander; he can find Giles and get him out while you and I take care of Angelus and company.”
“He’s hiding out at an old mansion on Crawford street. We hit them by daybreak. Be ready, Slayer,” were Chax’s parting words, as Buffy walked out of the room to find Xander and make her plans.
**
Marching alongside Chax with a legion of assorted demons behind them, Buffy couldn’t help but keep looking behind her. The situation was surreal, and a part of her wished she had a camera to save the moment for posterity’s sake.
A figure came crashing out of the bushes at her, and she startled, automatically taking a defensive stance. But it was only Xander, who had quickly make a stop at home and then raced to catch up with her.
“Cavalry's here. Although, I think. . . .” He couldn’t help but stare at the large mass of demons, who were in all shapes and sizes. “The Cavalry’s already here.”
“Brown-nosers, all of them,” Buffy whispered, as she and Xander had momentarily stopped on the side of the road, while Chax and his army marched on. “They’re all hoping to gain favor with Chax.”
“Well, I guess in this instant, that’s a good thing,” Xander said, as he and Buffy merged in at the end of the line and began to walk toward Crawford Street. “What’s with the sword?” he asked, admiring Buffy’s new weapon of choice.
“Chax gave it to me; it’s been blessed by the Knight, who first slew the demon, so if by chance Acathla awakens, then this sword will. . . .” Buffy frowned in concentration. “Send him back to hell. . .I think, wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention, when Chax was explaining it because in my mind Acathla will not awake. Well, anyway, you're not here to fight. Just get Giles out and run like hell, understood? I can't protect you, gonna be too busy killing and then trying to find Spike.”
“Gotchya,” Xander agreed, as Buffy handed him a stake, and a large mansion came into view.
“This is it, Slayer,” Chax called out, as the mass momentarily paused.
“That’s my call.” Buffy exchanged a long look with Xander. “Good luck.”
“Same to you.” Xander raised his good hand, as he watched her walk to the head of the crowd. “Kick ass, Buffy,” he whispered softly to himself.
**
May 3, 1998
Sitting once again at Sunnydale General Hospital, Buffy should have been elated, whooping with joy. They had once again thwarted evil and stopped the world from being sucked into hell, but instead all she could do was stare worriedly over at Spike, whose whole being radiated depression.
Christian Toben, now conscious, was sitting up in bed looking pale and weak. Willow, seated in a wheelchair at the end of bed, Cordelia, and Oz were all there listening to how the world had once again been saved.
“Sorry, Spike.” Willow looked sympathetically over at her friend. “Sorry, I wasn’t faster with the spell.”
“Not your fault, Red,” Spike said moodily, as he marveled at how many what ifs there were in yesterday’s events. What if Willow had been able to curse his father just an hour sooner? What if Chax hadn’t turned his attention to Drusilla and Penn after temporarily knocking his Sire out? Angelus would not have had the chance to complete the ritual and awaken Acathla. What if Buffy hadn’t come to rescue him and stayed in the battle? What if. . . . The list was endless, and all he could do was brood about it, reminiscent of his father.
“You need to talk about it,” Toben told him softly. “Otherwise it will eat away at you.”
“What’s to talk about?” Spike was defiant and angry. “It was me, me, who plunged a sword in my father and sent him to hell. And right before I did it, his eyes glowed, and he was disoriented and confused; he had just been recursed, but I still had to do it because, because I could see Acathla emerging from. . .from his tomb, and, and. . . .” His voice broke, and he looked away, ashamed of the tears filling his eyes, the screams of Buffy shouting that only his blood would seal the demon back into his tomb, ringing in his ears.
The room was momentarily silent; no one knew what to say. Spike fought to regain his composure, but he couldn’t forget his father’s face and the words he whispered right before he had been sent to hell. “William, my childe, what’s going on?” Angel hadn’t remember anything about Acathla, Drusilla, Penn, his curse. It was all too tragic.
“And what about you?” Spike had regained control of himself and changed the focus of the conversation to Toben. “What’s going to happen to you now?”
“Chax is going to whisk me away to his kingdom, safe from human and demon, and we’re going to live happily ever after,” Toby said with an ironic smile.
Again there was an uncomfortable pause before Buffy spoke up. “You know, when you were here lying unconscious, Chax was quite concerned. In fact. . . .” She cleared her throat, not sure how to explain the look of tenderness she had seen on the demon’s face.
“He loves me,” Toben finished her thought. “That’s my curse; the man loves me, but remember, he’s an ancient demon, whose definition of love isn’t the same as yours and mine. And being a demon, he has periods of resentment toward me because making him feel love is a weakness. A weakness, he so desires to rip out of himself.”
“So what happens?” Spike asked.
“We go on.” Toben turned his head painfully toward Spike. “We just go on.”
****
A rough draft of the next chapter has been written. I’ll be traveling the months of July and August, so I hope to post it sometime in September. P’al Kwai