FIC: Fire and Ice (2 of 4)
Dec. 29th, 2006 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shipperx:
Title: Fire and Ice (2 of 4)
Spoilers: Post-NFA
Genre: Gen
Rating: R-ish
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. Never been paid and never will be.
Written For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
noel_of_spike
Summary As Christmas rolls around, Spike finds himself without plans... so he heads to Canada to atone for an old crime, confronts an ex, and faces down a dragon. He'll need whiskey in his egg nog after this.
II
Beyond the salted stone patio, snow stood in drifts so deep that Spike gazed at them in surprise. It might be Christmas in Canada, but he had been to Canada in December before, and it had never been like this. Of course, the last time he had been here, it had been 1910.
In the nineteenth century, the Banff Springs Hotel had been built by the Canadian Pacific Railroad to cater to rich Europeans who kidded themselves that they experienced the ‘wilderness’ when they left the Continent by luxury liner and crossed the Rockies in equally luxurious trains. Sleeping cars with crisp white linens and five-star hotels had provided a lavish hunting ground for vampires. No one knew or cared if tourists went missing, and Darla had loved the first class accommodations.
When Darla, Dru, and he had arrived at Banff, Darla had her pick of rooms with breathtaking views, and Dru had wanted to strip naked to wade into the sulfurous hot springs to commune with wood sprites. Spike hadn’t known whether there actually were wood sprites, but if there was a place to find them, the steaming pools beneath snow-laden evergreens seemed like the right place.
Dru had pronounced it perfect for the celebration of the solstice. The Long Night had been planned here before.
“Ice with fire,” she’d said. “The line between light and—“ She’d gestured towards the water that must have been heated by some subterranean volcanic source. “—and world’s end.”
She’d looked up at him as he stood on the cliff above the pools, and with a sly, flirtatious smile, she’d stood. Steam had risen from her slender white body and her nipples puckered in the cold as she climbed naked up the rocks to where Spike stood.
She had pressed her palm against his cheek. “Poor lost lamb,” she’d said.
He’d lightly nipped her neck. “No lamb here, love.” As he pulled her close, her wet body still warm from the spring though her hands and legs were blue from the cold climb up the rocks.
Dru had giggled, a mad almost unearthly sound. “You wish to be a dragon slayer.” Then she’d pulled back, looking startled. And with the swift change in mood that only Dru could master, a note of warning replaced her previously dream-filled tone. “Be careful that the dragon doesn’t slay you.”
There had been no dragon, of course—not the night of the solstice or the night after that. There had only been a motley collection of drunk and stupid vampires that had arrived along with some demons who had been in the mood to celebrate the Long Night.
Darla had complained bitterly about the execrable state of the affair. She’d ranted about the ‘proper’ rituals that she’d attended when she’d served The Master and had been part of the true Order of Aurelius.
Spike had mocked Darla and told her to run home to Daddy if she was so upset. This had set Drusilla to crying and whimpering that her daddy had left them. No one could hurt her properly except Angelus.
As vacations went, Spike remembered that trip to Banff as being only slightly more pleasant than hell.
Now Spike stood on the same hotel’s patio, gazing at the same the valley still filled with conifers and a winding, ice-edged river that ran beneath a low-hanging moon and star-studded sky. He wondered whether he’d initially given the place a proper chance, because Darla had been right, the view was magnificent.
He kicked his boot against the low stone wall, knocking the snow off his Docs and noting that the entire place was stone now. In the old days it had been wood and plaster, but before they had left, Dru had set fire to the hotel.
Flames had licked the sky during a white-out blizzard and Dru had danced naked in the snow. As they had watched it burn, Darla had clapped her hands and pronounced the conflagration, “Quite grand.” It was the most fun they had on the entire trip. Since that time, the hotel had been rebuilt from the ground up and re-designed to resemble a Scottish baronial castle.
“Oh my god,” a familiar voice said. “You.”
Spike turned to see a pretty, buxom blonde standing in the doorway, dressed in a white fur-lined pink parka and tight-as-a-second-skin ski pants.
He groaned. “Harm.”
Harmony preened a gave a flirty smile before she remembered that she was angry with him.
Her glossy pink lips tightened to a thin line. “Did you follow me?”
“What? No.” Spike walked passed her, straight into the hotel bar.
“It’s too late,” she told him, toddling after him in her plastic ski boots. “I’ve found someone new. Dirk—“
Spike stopped. “Dirk?” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Seriously?”
“What’s funny? He’s very handsome.” She glared at him. “More handsome than you.”
Spike snorted and ordered a single-malt whiskey. Straight-up. No ice.
Harm continued to prattle. “You can go home right now. I’m not coming back to you. No matter how much you grovel or beg or plead.” She crossed her arms across her chest in a way that she knew lifted and accentuated her cleavage. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot. But I’m warning you, I won’t give in.”
Spike laughed. “You forget that the last time I saw you, you betrayed the lot of us and left us for dead?”
She gasped. “I so totally did not!”
“’Course you did.”
“I didn’t betray anyone. You guys were mean to me.”
“Right.” He knocked back his drink in a single gulp, enjoying the heat as it warmed his throat. “And I’m warning you. If you’re off otter blood these days, I’ll be meaner still.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s the rules. I’d have to kill you.”
She sputtered and backed away with her ski boots clomping against the floor as a young male vampire came over and draped his arm over her shoulder. “Hey, babe, aren’t you gonna introduce me?”
Finding her courage and indignation again, Harm sniffed, did a hair toss, and cuddled against to her mop-headed vamp who was outfitted, head to tow, in black snow boarding gear.
“This is my ex,” she told Dirk as she casually waved her hand in Spike’s direction. “The one I was telling you about. Blondie-B…er… Spike.”
“Dude!” Dirk said while bobbing his head. “I’ve heard about you. You’re like really old, right?”
Spike frowned. “Not that old.”
“I heard you were a total bad-ass.”
“No,” Harm protested. “No, he’s not. He’s a… a…”
“Bad, rude man,” Spike supplied.
“Yeah, and he –“
Spike cut her off. “Is rather curious why the two of you are dressed in ski gear.”
“Dude, snowboarding is like totally my life. Or, you know, unlife.”
Spike rolled his eyes.
Dirk sat on a barstool. “It would’ve been a major bummer if I had to give up the powder after I ‘fanged-out.’ “ He even used air quotes.
Good lord, Spike thought. Harm found someone as vapid as herself.
Dirk caressed his black and red snowboard like it was the curve of Harm’s breast. “Then I remembered that Keystone had night skiing. Oh, and then I found out I had super, awesome night vision and could ski anywhere.” He pulled Harm up against him, he nuzzled her hair. “Now, we’re hitting all the resorts.”
Harm skimmed her hand down Dirk’s thigh while gazing defiantly at Spike. “We had a great time in Aspen. Dirk killed a celebrity just to get me a mink.”
“Anything for you, babe.”
“And,” she said. “I met Paris Hilton.”
Spike signaled the bartender to refill his drink. “So what are you snowbunnies doing here? This old rock hasn’t been a hot spot for the nobs since World War II.”
Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum then explained that they had arrived for the “bitchin’ party” planned for the Long Night. It was being held at the glacial Lake Louise, and there would be bonfires, blood sacrifices, and – if there was time – maybe ice climbing.
It wasn’t the exact same location as the bacchanal that he’d attended in 1910, but the itinerary sounded like it was the same, except for the ice climbing.
Without asking too many questions, Dirk and Harm allowed Spike to tag along. (Thankfully, Harm had the short-term memory of a fruit-bat and had forgotten – or had never taken seriously – his threat to kill her.)
When they arrived at the lake, Spike spared a thought for the way that Dru would have wanted to bask in the reflected moonlight while admiring the way the rocky peaks plunged into the snow-covered ice sheet. Spike also thought of Buffy, and wished that he could have brought her here, to see the majestic view… and the majestic ass-kicking soon to come.
Spike navigated his way down the hill as he decided that other than the North Face jackets and assorted ski paraphernalia the vampires at this Long Night were no different from the ones in 1910. They were still mostly drunk and stupid. And the ‘vampyres,’ the humans like Marvin who romanticized the ‘creatures of the night’ schtick, were even more drunk and/or stupid if they thought they had a greater than being the midnight buffet.
Spike saw Anne’s friend, Marvin-Diego, with a girl who looked somewhat familiar. Spike thought he may have seen her in Anne’s shelter, so it seemed that Anne had been right. Marvin had been recruiting and had talked one (and now he counted two) of Anne’s kids into his suicidal quest.
“Bugger.”
He’d have to do something about that. But when he moved to intervene, someone stepped in his way, blocking his view of the runaways.
Anne said, “I knew you hadn’t changed. I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” But then she paled as a new thought struck her. “Unless… Did Angel send you to save my kids? If he did, I’m totally embarrassed and sorry I accused you--”
“Angel didn’t send me.” But before a new storm of insults had time to roll off her tongue, Spike said, “Which doesn’t mean I’m the rotter you think I am. I’m not the villain here.”
“You’re trying to help?”
“I’m considering it.”
Anne digested this information as Spike pulled her out of the circle of light cast by the bonfire fire burning at the edge of the lake.
“Now,” he said. “You tell me. What are you doing here? And don’t tell me you’re alone, ‘cause that would be incredibly stupid.”
She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think it would go this far. Or that I would go this far. “ She looked over her shoulder where Marvin and her kids warmed their hands by the fire. “Marvin isn’t really dangerous. He’s just –“
“A moron.”
“He’s trying to find himself. It’s stupid, I know, but he’s desperate and I thought…”
“That you could catch him before he fell into this pit of vipers?”
When she had been young and going by the name “Chanterelle” Spike had thought that she looked soft, but tonight in the moonlight she looked as though she had been cast out of blue steel. “He brought two of my kids here. He’s a grown man and can destroy his own life, but not my kids. ”
Spike considered her for a moment, this wisp of a woman who had a hell of a way of standing her ground.
“Right, then.” He nodded. “I’m here to help.”
Dirk came out of nowhere and slapped Spike on the back. “Dude! You gotta get a move on. They’re about to light the Yule log.”
Harm sniffed. “A blonde. I should have known.” She shot Anne a look of contempt. “If he asks you to carry a stake and to call you ‘Buffy’ during sex, just say no.” As she flounced away with Dirk, she glanced back over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Spike.
Spike pushed his hands deeper into his duster’s pockets. “It wasn’t like it sounded.”
“It wasn’t?” Anne looked doubtful.
“Actually, it was. But I’d feel like less of a prat if we pretended the subject never came up.”
She nodded and looked toward the bonfire. “So the Yule log…?” When Spike didn’t say anything she asked, “What’s a Yule log doing in some vampire ritual? It isn’t a bit too cheery and Christmas-like? Or is this some kind of deliberate sacrilege?”
Thankfully, Dru, in her strangely lyrical way, had once answered the same question for Spike.
“The Yule log is pagan,” he said. “It has something to do with winter and living forever.” He shrugged. “Don’t know the details.”
Marvin-Diego stood in the yellow-red light cast by the fire, holding the log in his hands with the help of an equally stupid boy. Marvin announced in theatrically stentorian tones, “We, the children of the night, the vampyres, make this offering to the ‘gens Aurelia.’ ”
The flames gave Marvin an almost demonic look as he and the boy swung the log, tossing it into the fire, causing a shower of sparks to rise into the air. “We beg for a blessing, the rite of passage. We wish to become part of the battle between dark and light.”
The memories of the death, blood, and screams that had followed this invocation on the Long Night of 1910, drove Spike forward. Time had run out. Anne’s kids were in danger now.
The vampires at the party morphed in to gameface, and the willing human sacrifices took on the look of deer mesmerized by headlights.
Spike put his hand to Anne’s back. “Run!” Spike said.
Anne refused. “No.”
Spike twisted his face into a monstrous mask. “I said run.”
“Not without my kids!”
Grabbing Anne’s hand, Spike dove into the melee with his coat billowing behind them. Sensing danger, he stiff-armed one vamp as it charged him and then backhanded another, flinging it into the bonfire where it flew face first into the kindling and burst into a spray of dust, which crackled, sparked, and caught fire like New Year’s fireworks.
Screams echoed across the ice, and Spike saw Marvin-Diego struggling as Dirk wrapped his arm around him and began biting his neck.
“There!” Anne pointed to her horrified teens who had backed away from the fire and had moved onto the lake ice.
Grabbing his mop of hair, Spike pulled Dirk off of Marvin then shoved the ski-crazy vampire to the ground as he moved to rescue Anne’s kids from another vampire who had skidded out onto the ice. When Spike reached the young girl, intending to rescue her she looked into his face and screamed.
“Bloody hell.” Spike relaxed, returning to his normal face. “I’m—“
Anne caught and hugged the teen. “We’re here to help.”
Spike noticed Dirk climbing to his feet, his gameface dominated by a yellow-eyed glare of humiliated rage, which gave away his intent for head-on charge of revenge.
Spike dusted the vamp that had menaced Anne’s teens then turned on his heel and dusted Dirk in a single fluid motion when Dirk moved to leap onto Spike’s back.
Harmony yelled as the earth split wide open.
At least it felt and sounded as though the earth had split open. The lake ice cracked, jagged streaks snaked across the lake, opening fissures and marring the pristine blanket of snow. Then, everything exploded upward. A geyser of water propelled giant slabs of foot-thick ice twenty yards into the air as a primordial roar shattered the background hush of the endless expanse of unpopulated mountains.
Spike and Anne grabbed the teens and ducked and covered as a spray of ice and snow crystals fell back to earth.
“What is it?” Anne asked in a horrified whisper.
Spike wanted to say that he didn’t know, that he hadn’t seen what had shot up with the geyser. But he had seen, and he did know.
It was a dragon.
“You’ll do it this time,” Spike said. “You’ll run when I say run.”
She was already glancing toward the lake’s shoreline. “You won’t need to say it.”
“Run!”
Spike dragged one teen to her feet as Anne shepherded the other. They skidded across the ice until they hit the bank of snow at the waters edge then charged toward the cover of the trees.
There was the sound – and feel – of a rush of wind caused by the flapping of giant bat-like wings, as the dragon’s roar became an ear-piercing scream. The ear-splitting sound almost debilitated humans but drove most of the vampires to their knees.
Spike pushed the kids. “Go. Go.” They weren’t far from the treeline and their best bet was to hide.
“Marvin!” Anne said.
Spike looked at her in disbelief. “You're kidding me.”
“We can’t just leave him.”
Spike looked back at the disaster behind them. He caught a glimpse of Harm’s pink parka disappearing over the crest of the hill. And he saw Marvin on his back, his hands and feet failing to gain purchase on the so that he could stand and run. The idiot looked rightfully terrified.
“Right,” he said, hating that he was saying it. “I’ll go.”
The dragon landed on the bank of the lake with a thud that literally shook the ground, its talons providing sure footing in the snow as it circled the debilitated vampires who lay curled in a fetal position, clutching their ears. The creature roared – again – and as Spike doubled-over he could swear that his own ears began to bleed.
He touched his cheek and felt the stickiness of blood. “Shit.”
And he noticed that the sound of his own voice seemed muffled. Had the dragon’s roar burst his eardrums?
As Marvin crawled on his hands and knees on the ice, the dragon whipped its tail, driving the barbed end of it into the ground, blocking the man’s path of escape. The creature gave a smoking snort that caused ice to begin to melt, creating puddles then steam, and Marvin’s sniveling whimper became blubbering tears.
The dragon nudged the man, like a cat with a half-dead mouse that it wasn’t through playing with. It turned Marvin over, forcing him to stare into the face of certain death. Then it swiveled its horned head to examine the carnage on the lake’s bank before filling its lungs with clean mountain air, opening its massive jaws to spit a jet of flame that incinerated all of the incapacitated vampires on the spot.
While the creature was occupied, Spike dashed around the dragon’s tail to grab the mewling Marvin-Diego. He jerked at the man’s jacket, but Marvin shook his head and refused to move. He was immobilized by fear.
“Sonofabitch,” Spike muttered, causing the dragon’s ears to perk up.
The scales along the dragon’s spine rose like the hairs of a hissing cat, and it roared again. Spike refused to bend or fall to his knees no matter how much pain he was in, but he felt more blood trickle down his jaw and neck.
The dragon examined Spike. It sniffed him, and, for a moment, Spike wondered whether it was about to lick him or – like Illyria – decide to make him its pet. But the creature’s glacial-blue gaze narrowed and attacked. It happened so swiftly that Spike never had a chance to fight back.
“Spike!” Anne screamed, as the dragon wrapped its vice-like talons around Spike’s waist.
And, flapping its enormous wings, it tore upward through the night sky then plunged into the ice-covered lake…
Chapter 3
Title: Fire and Ice (2 of 4)
Spoilers: Post-NFA
Genre: Gen
Rating: R-ish
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. Never been paid and never will be.
Written For:
noel_of_spikeSummary As Christmas rolls around, Spike finds himself without plans... so he heads to Canada to atone for an old crime, confronts an ex, and faces down a dragon. He'll need whiskey in his egg nog after this.
II
Beyond the salted stone patio, snow stood in drifts so deep that Spike gazed at them in surprise. It might be Christmas in Canada, but he had been to Canada in December before, and it had never been like this. Of course, the last time he had been here, it had been 1910.
In the nineteenth century, the Banff Springs Hotel had been built by the Canadian Pacific Railroad to cater to rich Europeans who kidded themselves that they experienced the ‘wilderness’ when they left the Continent by luxury liner and crossed the Rockies in equally luxurious trains. Sleeping cars with crisp white linens and five-star hotels had provided a lavish hunting ground for vampires. No one knew or cared if tourists went missing, and Darla had loved the first class accommodations.
When Darla, Dru, and he had arrived at Banff, Darla had her pick of rooms with breathtaking views, and Dru had wanted to strip naked to wade into the sulfurous hot springs to commune with wood sprites. Spike hadn’t known whether there actually were wood sprites, but if there was a place to find them, the steaming pools beneath snow-laden evergreens seemed like the right place.
Dru had pronounced it perfect for the celebration of the solstice. The Long Night had been planned here before.
“Ice with fire,” she’d said. “The line between light and—“ She’d gestured towards the water that must have been heated by some subterranean volcanic source. “—and world’s end.”
She’d looked up at him as he stood on the cliff above the pools, and with a sly, flirtatious smile, she’d stood. Steam had risen from her slender white body and her nipples puckered in the cold as she climbed naked up the rocks to where Spike stood.
She had pressed her palm against his cheek. “Poor lost lamb,” she’d said.
He’d lightly nipped her neck. “No lamb here, love.” As he pulled her close, her wet body still warm from the spring though her hands and legs were blue from the cold climb up the rocks.
Dru had giggled, a mad almost unearthly sound. “You wish to be a dragon slayer.” Then she’d pulled back, looking startled. And with the swift change in mood that only Dru could master, a note of warning replaced her previously dream-filled tone. “Be careful that the dragon doesn’t slay you.”
There had been no dragon, of course—not the night of the solstice or the night after that. There had only been a motley collection of drunk and stupid vampires that had arrived along with some demons who had been in the mood to celebrate the Long Night.
Darla had complained bitterly about the execrable state of the affair. She’d ranted about the ‘proper’ rituals that she’d attended when she’d served The Master and had been part of the true Order of Aurelius.
Spike had mocked Darla and told her to run home to Daddy if she was so upset. This had set Drusilla to crying and whimpering that her daddy had left them. No one could hurt her properly except Angelus.
As vacations went, Spike remembered that trip to Banff as being only slightly more pleasant than hell.
Now Spike stood on the same hotel’s patio, gazing at the same the valley still filled with conifers and a winding, ice-edged river that ran beneath a low-hanging moon and star-studded sky. He wondered whether he’d initially given the place a proper chance, because Darla had been right, the view was magnificent.
He kicked his boot against the low stone wall, knocking the snow off his Docs and noting that the entire place was stone now. In the old days it had been wood and plaster, but before they had left, Dru had set fire to the hotel.
Flames had licked the sky during a white-out blizzard and Dru had danced naked in the snow. As they had watched it burn, Darla had clapped her hands and pronounced the conflagration, “Quite grand.” It was the most fun they had on the entire trip. Since that time, the hotel had been rebuilt from the ground up and re-designed to resemble a Scottish baronial castle.
“Oh my god,” a familiar voice said. “You.”
Spike turned to see a pretty, buxom blonde standing in the doorway, dressed in a white fur-lined pink parka and tight-as-a-second-skin ski pants.
He groaned. “Harm.”
Harmony preened a gave a flirty smile before she remembered that she was angry with him.
Her glossy pink lips tightened to a thin line. “Did you follow me?”
“What? No.” Spike walked passed her, straight into the hotel bar.
“It’s too late,” she told him, toddling after him in her plastic ski boots. “I’ve found someone new. Dirk—“
Spike stopped. “Dirk?” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Seriously?”
“What’s funny? He’s very handsome.” She glared at him. “More handsome than you.”
Spike snorted and ordered a single-malt whiskey. Straight-up. No ice.
Harm continued to prattle. “You can go home right now. I’m not coming back to you. No matter how much you grovel or beg or plead.” She crossed her arms across her chest in a way that she knew lifted and accentuated her cleavage. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot. But I’m warning you, I won’t give in.”
Spike laughed. “You forget that the last time I saw you, you betrayed the lot of us and left us for dead?”
She gasped. “I so totally did not!”
“’Course you did.”
“I didn’t betray anyone. You guys were mean to me.”
“Right.” He knocked back his drink in a single gulp, enjoying the heat as it warmed his throat. “And I’m warning you. If you’re off otter blood these days, I’ll be meaner still.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s the rules. I’d have to kill you.”
She sputtered and backed away with her ski boots clomping against the floor as a young male vampire came over and draped his arm over her shoulder. “Hey, babe, aren’t you gonna introduce me?”
Finding her courage and indignation again, Harm sniffed, did a hair toss, and cuddled against to her mop-headed vamp who was outfitted, head to tow, in black snow boarding gear.
“This is my ex,” she told Dirk as she casually waved her hand in Spike’s direction. “The one I was telling you about. Blondie-B…er… Spike.”
“Dude!” Dirk said while bobbing his head. “I’ve heard about you. You’re like really old, right?”
Spike frowned. “Not that old.”
“I heard you were a total bad-ass.”
“No,” Harm protested. “No, he’s not. He’s a… a…”
“Bad, rude man,” Spike supplied.
“Yeah, and he –“
Spike cut her off. “Is rather curious why the two of you are dressed in ski gear.”
“Dude, snowboarding is like totally my life. Or, you know, unlife.”
Spike rolled his eyes.
Dirk sat on a barstool. “It would’ve been a major bummer if I had to give up the powder after I ‘fanged-out.’ “ He even used air quotes.
Good lord, Spike thought. Harm found someone as vapid as herself.
Dirk caressed his black and red snowboard like it was the curve of Harm’s breast. “Then I remembered that Keystone had night skiing. Oh, and then I found out I had super, awesome night vision and could ski anywhere.” He pulled Harm up against him, he nuzzled her hair. “Now, we’re hitting all the resorts.”
Harm skimmed her hand down Dirk’s thigh while gazing defiantly at Spike. “We had a great time in Aspen. Dirk killed a celebrity just to get me a mink.”
“Anything for you, babe.”
“And,” she said. “I met Paris Hilton.”
Spike signaled the bartender to refill his drink. “So what are you snowbunnies doing here? This old rock hasn’t been a hot spot for the nobs since World War II.”
Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum then explained that they had arrived for the “bitchin’ party” planned for the Long Night. It was being held at the glacial Lake Louise, and there would be bonfires, blood sacrifices, and – if there was time – maybe ice climbing.
It wasn’t the exact same location as the bacchanal that he’d attended in 1910, but the itinerary sounded like it was the same, except for the ice climbing.
Without asking too many questions, Dirk and Harm allowed Spike to tag along. (Thankfully, Harm had the short-term memory of a fruit-bat and had forgotten – or had never taken seriously – his threat to kill her.)
When they arrived at the lake, Spike spared a thought for the way that Dru would have wanted to bask in the reflected moonlight while admiring the way the rocky peaks plunged into the snow-covered ice sheet. Spike also thought of Buffy, and wished that he could have brought her here, to see the majestic view… and the majestic ass-kicking soon to come.
Spike navigated his way down the hill as he decided that other than the North Face jackets and assorted ski paraphernalia the vampires at this Long Night were no different from the ones in 1910. They were still mostly drunk and stupid. And the ‘vampyres,’ the humans like Marvin who romanticized the ‘creatures of the night’ schtick, were even more drunk and/or stupid if they thought they had a greater than being the midnight buffet.
Spike saw Anne’s friend, Marvin-Diego, with a girl who looked somewhat familiar. Spike thought he may have seen her in Anne’s shelter, so it seemed that Anne had been right. Marvin had been recruiting and had talked one (and now he counted two) of Anne’s kids into his suicidal quest.
“Bugger.”
He’d have to do something about that. But when he moved to intervene, someone stepped in his way, blocking his view of the runaways.
Anne said, “I knew you hadn’t changed. I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” But then she paled as a new thought struck her. “Unless… Did Angel send you to save my kids? If he did, I’m totally embarrassed and sorry I accused you--”
“Angel didn’t send me.” But before a new storm of insults had time to roll off her tongue, Spike said, “Which doesn’t mean I’m the rotter you think I am. I’m not the villain here.”
“You’re trying to help?”
“I’m considering it.”
Anne digested this information as Spike pulled her out of the circle of light cast by the bonfire fire burning at the edge of the lake.
“Now,” he said. “You tell me. What are you doing here? And don’t tell me you’re alone, ‘cause that would be incredibly stupid.”
She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think it would go this far. Or that I would go this far. “ She looked over her shoulder where Marvin and her kids warmed their hands by the fire. “Marvin isn’t really dangerous. He’s just –“
“A moron.”
“He’s trying to find himself. It’s stupid, I know, but he’s desperate and I thought…”
“That you could catch him before he fell into this pit of vipers?”
When she had been young and going by the name “Chanterelle” Spike had thought that she looked soft, but tonight in the moonlight she looked as though she had been cast out of blue steel. “He brought two of my kids here. He’s a grown man and can destroy his own life, but not my kids. ”
Spike considered her for a moment, this wisp of a woman who had a hell of a way of standing her ground.
“Right, then.” He nodded. “I’m here to help.”
Dirk came out of nowhere and slapped Spike on the back. “Dude! You gotta get a move on. They’re about to light the Yule log.”
Harm sniffed. “A blonde. I should have known.” She shot Anne a look of contempt. “If he asks you to carry a stake and to call you ‘Buffy’ during sex, just say no.” As she flounced away with Dirk, she glanced back over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Spike.
Spike pushed his hands deeper into his duster’s pockets. “It wasn’t like it sounded.”
“It wasn’t?” Anne looked doubtful.
“Actually, it was. But I’d feel like less of a prat if we pretended the subject never came up.”
She nodded and looked toward the bonfire. “So the Yule log…?” When Spike didn’t say anything she asked, “What’s a Yule log doing in some vampire ritual? It isn’t a bit too cheery and Christmas-like? Or is this some kind of deliberate sacrilege?”
Thankfully, Dru, in her strangely lyrical way, had once answered the same question for Spike.
“The Yule log is pagan,” he said. “It has something to do with winter and living forever.” He shrugged. “Don’t know the details.”
Marvin-Diego stood in the yellow-red light cast by the fire, holding the log in his hands with the help of an equally stupid boy. Marvin announced in theatrically stentorian tones, “We, the children of the night, the vampyres, make this offering to the ‘gens Aurelia.’ ”
The flames gave Marvin an almost demonic look as he and the boy swung the log, tossing it into the fire, causing a shower of sparks to rise into the air. “We beg for a blessing, the rite of passage. We wish to become part of the battle between dark and light.”
The memories of the death, blood, and screams that had followed this invocation on the Long Night of 1910, drove Spike forward. Time had run out. Anne’s kids were in danger now.
The vampires at the party morphed in to gameface, and the willing human sacrifices took on the look of deer mesmerized by headlights.
Spike put his hand to Anne’s back. “Run!” Spike said.
Anne refused. “No.”
Spike twisted his face into a monstrous mask. “I said run.”
“Not without my kids!”
Grabbing Anne’s hand, Spike dove into the melee with his coat billowing behind them. Sensing danger, he stiff-armed one vamp as it charged him and then backhanded another, flinging it into the bonfire where it flew face first into the kindling and burst into a spray of dust, which crackled, sparked, and caught fire like New Year’s fireworks.
Screams echoed across the ice, and Spike saw Marvin-Diego struggling as Dirk wrapped his arm around him and began biting his neck.
“There!” Anne pointed to her horrified teens who had backed away from the fire and had moved onto the lake ice.
Grabbing his mop of hair, Spike pulled Dirk off of Marvin then shoved the ski-crazy vampire to the ground as he moved to rescue Anne’s kids from another vampire who had skidded out onto the ice. When Spike reached the young girl, intending to rescue her she looked into his face and screamed.
“Bloody hell.” Spike relaxed, returning to his normal face. “I’m—“
Anne caught and hugged the teen. “We’re here to help.”
Spike noticed Dirk climbing to his feet, his gameface dominated by a yellow-eyed glare of humiliated rage, which gave away his intent for head-on charge of revenge.
Spike dusted the vamp that had menaced Anne’s teens then turned on his heel and dusted Dirk in a single fluid motion when Dirk moved to leap onto Spike’s back.
Harmony yelled as the earth split wide open.
At least it felt and sounded as though the earth had split open. The lake ice cracked, jagged streaks snaked across the lake, opening fissures and marring the pristine blanket of snow. Then, everything exploded upward. A geyser of water propelled giant slabs of foot-thick ice twenty yards into the air as a primordial roar shattered the background hush of the endless expanse of unpopulated mountains.
Spike and Anne grabbed the teens and ducked and covered as a spray of ice and snow crystals fell back to earth.
“What is it?” Anne asked in a horrified whisper.
Spike wanted to say that he didn’t know, that he hadn’t seen what had shot up with the geyser. But he had seen, and he did know.
It was a dragon.
“You’ll do it this time,” Spike said. “You’ll run when I say run.”
She was already glancing toward the lake’s shoreline. “You won’t need to say it.”
“Run!”
Spike dragged one teen to her feet as Anne shepherded the other. They skidded across the ice until they hit the bank of snow at the waters edge then charged toward the cover of the trees.
There was the sound – and feel – of a rush of wind caused by the flapping of giant bat-like wings, as the dragon’s roar became an ear-piercing scream. The ear-splitting sound almost debilitated humans but drove most of the vampires to their knees.
Spike pushed the kids. “Go. Go.” They weren’t far from the treeline and their best bet was to hide.
“Marvin!” Anne said.
Spike looked at her in disbelief. “You're kidding me.”
“We can’t just leave him.”
Spike looked back at the disaster behind them. He caught a glimpse of Harm’s pink parka disappearing over the crest of the hill. And he saw Marvin on his back, his hands and feet failing to gain purchase on the so that he could stand and run. The idiot looked rightfully terrified.
“Right,” he said, hating that he was saying it. “I’ll go.”
The dragon landed on the bank of the lake with a thud that literally shook the ground, its talons providing sure footing in the snow as it circled the debilitated vampires who lay curled in a fetal position, clutching their ears. The creature roared – again – and as Spike doubled-over he could swear that his own ears began to bleed.
He touched his cheek and felt the stickiness of blood. “Shit.”
And he noticed that the sound of his own voice seemed muffled. Had the dragon’s roar burst his eardrums?
As Marvin crawled on his hands and knees on the ice, the dragon whipped its tail, driving the barbed end of it into the ground, blocking the man’s path of escape. The creature gave a smoking snort that caused ice to begin to melt, creating puddles then steam, and Marvin’s sniveling whimper became blubbering tears.
The dragon nudged the man, like a cat with a half-dead mouse that it wasn’t through playing with. It turned Marvin over, forcing him to stare into the face of certain death. Then it swiveled its horned head to examine the carnage on the lake’s bank before filling its lungs with clean mountain air, opening its massive jaws to spit a jet of flame that incinerated all of the incapacitated vampires on the spot.
While the creature was occupied, Spike dashed around the dragon’s tail to grab the mewling Marvin-Diego. He jerked at the man’s jacket, but Marvin shook his head and refused to move. He was immobilized by fear.
“Sonofabitch,” Spike muttered, causing the dragon’s ears to perk up.
The scales along the dragon’s spine rose like the hairs of a hissing cat, and it roared again. Spike refused to bend or fall to his knees no matter how much pain he was in, but he felt more blood trickle down his jaw and neck.
The dragon examined Spike. It sniffed him, and, for a moment, Spike wondered whether it was about to lick him or – like Illyria – decide to make him its pet. But the creature’s glacial-blue gaze narrowed and attacked. It happened so swiftly that Spike never had a chance to fight back.
“Spike!” Anne screamed, as the dragon wrapped its vice-like talons around Spike’s waist.
And, flapping its enormous wings, it tore upward through the night sky then plunged into the ice-covered lake…
Chapter 3
