Trickster´s Treat Sequel –
Janus´ Shadow 8
Xander parked his lady in the shadow of a jagged cliff, the moonlight showing an empty field of weeds and pebbles in various shades of grey, a wide–mouthed drainage pipe sticking out of the bottom of the cliff on one side, and a drunken barbed–wire fence on the other. Xander turned the car off and sat staring at the stone in front of him.
"Left Sunnydale a ways back there," Spike pointed out, shifting his boot from the dashboard to the floor.
"Technically, this is still Sunnydale, just really not a nice part of it."
"Don´t seem to be enough here for it to be one thing or another," Spike pointed out, and then Xander watched as vampire bones cracked into place and Spike turned his head toward the broken window. Xander didn´t have the nose for sniffing the air anymore, but given that he´d seen what kind of demons came stomping through here, he could guess what Spike smelled.
Xander opened the door, the dome light flashing on so that the pool around their car turned to color: the sick grey–green of grass, the brown and grey gravel, the grey stick like twigs that would never grow into trees, and it occurred to Xander that even with the lights on, this place didn´t have much color. A second door slammed right after his, and Spike came bouncing around the car, flexing his hands.
"Right, we here for a fight?" Spike asked, his eyes scanning the darkness. Xander couldn´t resist smiling at the kid–at–Christmas smile on Spike´s face.
"Not if we can avoid it, because killing? Not such a good way to ask for help."
"Ask for help?" Spike dropped out of game–face, his blue eyes focusing on Xander although in the dark, they faded to grey as well.
"I told you we´re seeing a man about a chip," Xander pointed out.
"Now?" Spike seemed confused, and now Xander cocked his head as he considered his vampire.
"Well, yeah?"
Spike slowly grinned, and if the last smile was a kid at Christmas, this was a pervert–in–a–sex–shop smile, a tired–husband–in–a–strip–joint smile and a teenager–discovering–Internet–porn smile all wrapped up in one. And why did all his metaphors about Spike´s curving mouth have to be pervy?
"Goin´ to fix me then?" Spike asked, and Xander finally understood.
"Doubt my word again, and I´ll fix you," Xander suggested with a veiled threat as he passed Spike and headed for the giant drain pipe. Behind him, Spike´s boots crunched over gravel and dead weeds, and Xander smiled at bringing that grin to Spike´s face.
Xander didn´t even have to duck his head to walk into the corrugated metal tunnel, Spike´s heavy boots clanking behind him. No one would accuse them of trying to sneak in. Xander kept his hand out in the darkness, stopping when he felt the warmth of a wooden door under his fingers. Rapping twice sharply, Xander stepped back in the pitch black and found hands at his hips, holding him lightly. Xander let his own hand trail over the back of Spike´s fingers, appreciating that touch in what, for him anyway, was complete darkness.
"What?" a wheezing voice demanded as a square section opened, and Xander could see broad shoulders and curving horns backlit so that it became only a black outline of a Fyarl demon.
"Xander Harris," he announced firmly. "Or Xan Nusa," he added.
"That supposed to mean something?" the door demon demanded.
Spike growled, and the Fyarl bobbed its head aggressively.
"Just tell your Master," Xander said as he turned his back and walked away. He wasn´t going to argue with minions, and turning his back on the beast made the strongest statement possible. Of course the fact that Spike´s eyes flashed yellow in the dark as he continued to growl made the whole back–turning thing a little easier to do without it turning into a whole peeing–the–pants thing. Xander heard the door slam shut, and he waited.
He´d expected demands and frantic energy from Spike, but instead, a hand simply found his stomach, cool fingers working under his shirt and resting there without moving. Xander rested one of his hands on Spike´s arm and looked out at the complete darkness, waiting.
The door banged open a second time and the outline of the demon returned. "This way," he practically coughed, his displeasure clear in the side to side movement of that massive head. Xander ignored the cranky Fyarl and walked into the inner passage which instantly widened out to a swap mart, well, a swap mart minus the funnel cake goodness and plus demons, racks of weapons for sale, occasional screams, and more than one creature on a leash, and very few of the leashed critters were actually dogs.
Xander steeled himself against images he´d tried his best to forget. He´d come here before, several times in fact, but each time, he felt this same shock and horror and really rather uncomfortable curiosity as he spotted bits of iron that he wasn´t familiar with, and even more discomfort when he knew what they were. He´d stopped doing business down here not long after starting to do business down here, and Xander still blessed Uick for giving him a place to set up shop and meet customers.
"Knives, best around," a small brown elf–like demon offered, shoving a silver knife toward him. Spike´s growl rose in volume, and Xander struggled to not grab for his own knife and his gun and even wish for a stick or two of dynamite. He kept his eyes forward and pretended disinterest as the collidor narrowed and quieted into the twisting tunnels of the deeper regions. The Fyarl had to duck now, his horns scraping once on twice on the sloping edges of the ceiling.
"Here," the demon thumped a door with a clawed hand and then headed back down the tunnel toward the fair. Xander pulled open the heavy door and found a familiar room inside. The rough stone walls had irregular bookshelves tucked between veins of rock, and an ornate carved desk stood on a thick rug.
Xander figured the desk had either been carved in place or magicked in because it sure couldn´t have gotten through some of the turns in the tunnels. One soft brown leather chair sat behind the desk, and one smaller red leather chair waited for guests in front of the desk. Xander sat in the guest chair and tried to stretch his neck, making the bones pop loudly in the silence.
"Not feeling particularly good about havin´ ta fight my way out through that," Spike said softly.
"Um, I´m thinking it´s a ´no´ on the fighting. Well, unless we really have to. If we really have to, fighting is better than not fighting," Xander amended himself, and Spike snorted. Shooting his vampire a dirty look, he waited until Spike dropped his eyes down and shifted. Disgusted noises were on the ´no´ list, and Xander trusted that Spike had just gotten that message.
"Right, so if it comes down ta fists and fangs, what´s the plan?" Spike finally asked as his eyes roamed the room.
"Kill them?" Xander suggested.
"Bloody–" Spike snapped off his own curse.
"I did say this was a bad plan. It´s just the only plan I have right now because this guy has supposedly gotten one or two of these chip things out," Xander chewed a thumbnail absent–mindedly, the last of his cool used up in the bluff that had gotten them this far.
"Coulda just given me a name," Spike´s voice sounded brittle, and the vampire started pacing, his leather coat flapping behind him, whipping with a cracking snap each time he changed direction.
"I wouldn´t send you in here alone," Xander said around the hangnail.
"Not an idiot," Spike growled, and Xander found himself catching an unhappy glare.
"I never said you were." Xander abandoned his chair and intercepted Spike on the next pass. He pulled his childe to him with a hand on the back of his neck, drawing the vampire close until they stood forehead to forehead and Xander could look into those bright whiskey eyes. "This man knows me. He likes to get me worked up. He would have demanded to see me anyway because it´s part of his game."
"Then you soddin´ well shouldn´t be here." Spike´s voice carried a frustration and an anger Xander hadn´t heard before.
"I wouldn´t be if you weren´t with me," Xander promised him, letting his hand migrate south to Spike´s shoulder and then around to the font where he could feel Spike´s body vibrating through the fabric of his shirt. "I told this guy I´d never come back because I was starting to feel a little too much like some rare tropical bird he wanted to cage and look at..." Xander thought about that for a second. "Well, that and poke at, I get the feeling this guy´s a poker."
"Not makin´ me feel better, here," Spike complained, the swirling whiskey eyes now solid yellow and malevolent. Xander found the sight of his childe´s anger delicious.
"You´ll make sure I don´t get caged, and I´ll make sure he takes that chip out of my deadly childe´s head," Xander whispered even though anyone might be listening. He wasn´t trying to hide either his faith in Spike or his unhappiness at having to come here again.
"He touches ya and I´ll eat him."
"Don´t. You´ll probably just get indigestion," Xander answered with a smile. With Spike now settled down to a soft growl, Xander flopped back into the chair before his knees could start knocking together.
The sorcerer always did have a wicked sense of timing, and he chose that moment to open the door and brush into the room, his open–necked shirt and tweed pants yelling "nerd" more than "powerful, evil, life–sucking chaos–worshiping bad–ass sorcerer," but Xander wasn´t fooled.
"Ethan," he said stiffly as he stood and held out a hand.
"If it isn´t my protègè," Ethan Rayne smiled, taking Xander´s hand in both of his own, a gesture of friendship that made Xander long for some good old–fashioned lye soap. "What has brought my successor back to me?" Ethan asked as he walked around the desk and settled in, his elbows resting on the papers spread across its surface, his chin resting on his palms.
"I´m not your protègè. I´m not your anything. Ever." Xander paused for a second as he sat down again. "Ever." He bit his tongue to keep from saying more, but for some reason Ethan always did pull up his Zeppo side. Spike shifted slightly, and now Xander could hear shuffling near the door. He guessed from Spike´s carefully disinterested expression that Ethan had brought a guard.
"Oh, my dear boy, you know I made you the man you are today," Ethan disagreed with a smile.
"You made help the slayer? Wow. I missed that memo. Your buddies must be really put out with you." Xander struggled to hold back a dozen other comments since he needed Ethan. Otherwise, he would never be in the same room with the man.
"Now, now, bitterness does not become you," Ethan waved off the insult. "So, what brings you to my little corner of the world? I seem to remember that last we spoke, you said you would never grace me with your presence again."
"I didn´t–"
"The words ´hell´ and ´freezing´ were used," Ethan interrupted.
"I hear there are some interesting weather patterns in Pylea this year."
"Brilliant," Ethan laughed. "You do have a wicked sense of humor, my boy." Ethan turned his attention to Spike, who stood with his back to a bookshelf as he watched the room. "I don´t believe we´ve met."
"Spike."
Xander had to admit he was surprised at this new silent, deadly version of Spike. He´d seen Spike dance with glee through death and blood, but this version of Spike promised swift, emotionless death. Xander couldn´t decide which signals gave him that impression, but he noticed that Ethan didn´t offer his hand.
"Ah, William the Bloody. I had heard you and Xander had come to some interesting arraignments last year. You know how demons love to gossip."
"If they want to keep their heads attached to the soddin´ bodies, they´d better keep their yaps shut about me," Spike´s voice had a soft tone that made his words seem even more sincere.
"So defensive. Perhaps the rumors are not just hyperbole and conjecture," Ethan offered, and Spike´s sudden growl and the sharp snapping sound that could only be teeth made the man jerk back.
"Rumors? What rumors?" Xander demanded, even while appreciating seeing Ethan off guard for once. The man was always so damn smug that Xander felt a constant need to check his fly and make sure he didn´t have a cow´s lick of hair sticking up. However, Spike´s ability to make the man flinch put him in a whole new light.
"That William the Bloody managed a short stay with our boys in green," Ethan offered.
"Oh shit." Xander had thought they would have more time. Any human with a grudge or a bounty could target Spike now.
Ethan laughed. "Word has traveled rather quickly that the Aurelius house has shifted yet again. One needs a scorecard to track allegiances."
Xander glared at the sorcerer for several long seconds, hating that Spike shifted uncomfortably. "I have every faith in Spike, and his allegiance is quite firm even if he is proficient at hiding what I have demanded he hide," Xander defended Spike. "But right now, I just want the Initiative chip out of Spike´s head."
"Oh, so the buggers *did* manage to bag William the Bloody."
"Watch it, mate, just as happy to rip your throat out as look at ya," Spike interjected, and Xander leaned back in his chair, enjoying the fleeting expression of concern as Ethan glanced toward his own bodyguard.
"Well, that´s just ungrateful. After all, I am the proud... I suppose ´sire´ is the wrong word–"
"Call yourself my sire and I´ll gut you myself," Xander growled, leaning forward in the chair as the guard behind him took a rather loud step forward. Knowing that threats sometimes had to be followed through, Xander closed his hand around a knife he had tucked in his sleeve. Xander didn´t lose focus on Ethan as Spike shifted into a fighting stance in response to the shifting bodyguard behind him. Xander just prayed the thing had some demon blood or it would be one hell of a short fight.
"Now, now, kill me and your pet is stuck with that thing."
"He´s not a pet." Xander pulled his knife and sank the end of it a good inch into the wood of Ethan´s desk, spearing a number of papers.
"Well, I never meant to insult," Ethan began, holding up his hands in surrender. More shifting behind him. "Whatever your relationship, I simply meant to point out that you need me."
"I know that or I wouldn´t be here," Xander snapped. "Now what do you want to get that thing out of Spike´s head?" Xander asked, pulling the knife from the wood and sitting back down. He noticed that Spike kept his fighting–ready stance, and Xander smiled approvingly at his childe´s aggression.
"Well, there are certain factions that would like to see this three way race with the Initiative, the slayer, and the demon–population narrowed down," Ethan pointed out with a small wave of one hand. "Eliminate a player, and the game changes, shifts."
"I´m not big with the taking down the Initiative plan since that would take months, and I want this chip out now. Try again." Xander slid the knife back into place even though his kept his hand close.
"I never suggested targeting the Initiative. You don´t even have to take action. You provide a little intelligence on the slayer–what she values, what motivates her, what she fears–and I will spirit the chip out of your..." Ethan stopped as he looked up toward Spike.
"Childe," Xander supplied the word. Ethan smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"Oh my boy, I am so proud of you. The day will come when I will point you out and say that I put your feet on the true path."
"Don´t bet on it, you son of a–"
"Language, no need to get crass," Ethan interrupted him. "You know, I think I have just discovered where I made my mistake with Rupert. I tried to keep him by my side, keep him sheltered. He tasted power only through me, and so he found it easy to walk away from the potential. But you´ve tasted that power, haven´t you, my boy?"
"Call me ´boy´ again, and I´ll cut your tongue out." Xander leaned forward, and out of the corner of his eye, Spike shifted again, moving closer with a cat–like and lethal grace.
"It would make it unfortunately difficult for me to complete the spell you want. So, will you meet my price?" Ethan asked. He held up his two hands as though weighing items. "You give me some irrelevant information," Ethan tipped his hands one way to show a scale tilting, "and I cure your childe."
"Name another price." Xander fought to keep his voice calm.
"There is no other price." Ethan´s smirk made Xander wish for vampire strength and vampire speed and a vampire´s lack of morality over the whole killing issue.
"Maybe I´ll just tell Giles that you´re still here, sliming in the corners of the sewers," Xander threatened.
"Oh bugger. No! Please not that," Ethan mockingly begged in a voice heavy with sarcasm. "Do you truly think he doesn´t know? Where else would a serious sorcerer be but a Hellmouth? And Cleveland is not my style."
"You suck." Xander said, realizing just a little too late that the defeated Zeppo voice revealed entirely too much to this man who did have a huge part in creating him, no matter how much Xander tried to deny it.
"And swallow," Ethan said with a smile and a waggle of his eyebrows. "It´s not like I´m asking you to act against your precious slayer. You just give us a little information the way Giles can go to his books and call his friends and find out a little information on any assassin who targets *her*. It´s all quiet fair."
Xander stared at the man, feeling the helpless rage as he found himself wanting to choke the spell out of Ethan, but they would never leave these tunnels if he tried that, and Xander knew that entirely too well. It didn´t stop him from having violent fantasies including Ethan, a rope, and a face slowly turning purple.
"Deal?" Ethan´s voice came out honey–smooth and soft like a kindergarten teacher.
"No deal," Xander said as he stood.
"Interesting. So, you´re going to allow your childe to suffer? After all, you aren´t sacrificing the slayer; you are simply providing a little intelligence to even the battle field."
"There are no even battle fields with you," Xander pointed out as he turned toward the door. A Kungai demon stood there, his yellowed skin and horn gleaming in the dull light of the office.
"Oh ye of little faith. How can you think that of me?" Ethan asked in a voice full of mock–indignation and very real humor.
"Because in nine hundred years I never played an even field if I could find a way to rig the game," Xander pointed out, glancing over his shoulder before heading for the door.
"I´ll be here when you change your mind," Ethan yelled. Xander didn´t bother answering. Xander also tried to ignore that carefully neutral expression on Spike´s face... the expression Xander was learning meant that Spike was thinking something he didn´t want to say to his sire. Why couldn´t life be easy for him just once, he wondered as he headed through the tunnels, the Kungai occasionally offering directions either left or right from behind as the tunnels split.
