| After: The Alaska Eclipse by Shiver |
| Rating: NC-17 Pairing: A/S Spoilers: Everything, including “Not Fade Away” (AtS: S5) Notes: The show is now over, but since I received so many positive comments on the series, I’m going to continue with it as long as the Muse cooperates and there is continued interest. Hell, I probably won’t even need the interest. My Muse is kind of a bitch that way. Thanks, and thanks for reading. - - - - - The decrepit fishing boat pulled into dock, its three-man crew lassoing the wooden pilings. It groaned and creaked before coming to a rest against the truck tires lashed to the pier as a cushion, and then was still. Two dark figures leapt from the foredeck onto the pier, soundlessly moving towards the city, slightly blacker blurs in the darkness. Angel and Spike had been moving generally east, but erratically, zig-zagging around southeast Asia in a so far successful attempt to elude the forces massing against them. Spike had gotten good at operating the laptop, but the news of events following the closing of the first three gateways had become more and more alarming. Demon clans, now cut off from their home dimensions, made violent moves to seize and maintain control of territory and wealth. At the same time, the human organizations dedicated to their destruction were mobilizing, seeing this chaotic power shift as an opportunity to eradicate demon threats for good. The Order of St. Michael was massing in Nepal, ready to take the battle to the next closing ritual, wherever it should be. The scattered remnants of Wolfram and Hart scrabbled to create even the semblance of a united front. Some of the more organized pockets of the Quadrivium Society had begun to seek out demon clans pre-emptively, routing them out of their nests. There were even rumors of squadrons of Slayers moving into the battlezones, taking out demons when the other lines of defense failed. That information was frustratingly vague, and Angel and Spike both wondered how deeply involved those they cared about were. Now the two vampires had come ashore in another city in southeast Asia. They had lost track along the way of exactly where they were, only that they were rounding China, waiting for Wesley to channel himself through another medium and let them know where and when. Angel’s shock at hearing his old friend’s voice (almost) had reawakened the still-unresolved guilt of what had happened between them, and he longed to tell Spike. Spike knew him better than any creature alive, they had a shared history decades long. Spike, more than anyone, might have understood. At the very least, Spike would not judge him; even the soul had not changed that. And right now, Angel longed for that acceptance. But Spike was still reeling from his ordeal in India, and though he’d had no visions, they couldn’t count on their absence for long. When this was over, Angel promised himself, he and Spike would have a long talk. He never wanted secrets between them again. - - - - - “You okay, mate? You don’t look all there.” “Just thinking about the last few days,” Angel said. “It’s all too much.” “No argument from me,” Spike replied, squinting as the breeze blew his cigarette smoke into his eyes. He had led them both into a section of town that could have been a Hell district, if those sorts of distinctions were made in this part of the world. As it was, demons did business alongside humans whose dealings would rival the most evil dark gods. Here there were traffickers in magically-enhanced drugs, in weaponry and explosives, in human organs, and in sex-slaves as young as five. It was as corrupt a place as existed on earth, but the chaos was a safer hiding place for the two vampires than a stone fortress. Spike found a nightclub that “looked promising,” as he put it, and he and Angel took a table near the stage, under a purple spotlight that lit their pale skin in interesting ways. Spike watched the show with a cool detachment, which impressed Angel, as he had been previously unaware that such things were even anatomically possible, and sure enough, within two minutes a girl had approached their table. She had a strange face, as though the veneer of a fifteen-year-old had been laid on that of a much older woman, which still showed underneath, like a gray shadow. She wore heels that looked like stilts, a pink vinyl miniskirt about six inches wide, and a black baby-doll halter with a pattern consisting of the word “fuck” printed over and over. “Hey, you looking for a good time?” she said. “You want a date for tonight?” Spike and Angel glanced at one another and Spike raised one eyebrow. “You both want me at the same time?” the girl persisted. “Sandwich? Or me do one while the other watch? If you want I can call my girlfriend, we have a party. Only fifty dollar American.” “Have a seat,” Spike suggested, and the girl slid in across from them. “What’s your name?” “Oy.” Spike glanced toward the door. “You got a room nearby… Oy?” “You bet, mister.” Spike held up a hundred-dollar bill folded between two fingers. “We want you to take us there, Oy. We want to stay there all night tonight, and all day tomorrow, and we’ll pay you another two-hundred dollars. Can we do that?” She hesitated a moment, clearly wondering what kind of freaks she was hooking up with, then, “whatever you say, mister.” - - - - - Oy’s “room” was a corrugated tin and plywood shanty in a warren of similar structures. Even at four a.m., the area was crowded with a disturbing mix of middle-aged western men and Asian children, none of whom seemed older than sixteen. Angel watched as a young teen boy “negotiated” with a sweaty, balding man in broken German while a skinny girl of about eight stood nearby, then he took Spike’s hand to keep from digging his nails into his own palm. “It’s only for a day,” Spike promised. “A day and I’ll take you away from here.” His voice dropped lower. “And only one more gateway, yeah? We’ll find out where tomorrow and be done by next week.” Oy led them into her home and lit an oil lamp. The smoky light revealed a futon, a couple of crates to serve as chairs and a cable-spool table. “You take turns or both together?” she asked, crossing her arms and grasping the hem of her halter. Angel recoiled, shocked, and Spike stepped quickly forward. “No, no, none of that,” he said, and she froze mid-strip. “Listen, Oy,” Spike said. “My friend and I are in a little bit of trouble, and we want to hole up in your room for awhile. Now… how much will it cost to make that happen?” He held up a few more hundreds, folded between his fingers, as before. Oy looked quickly down at the money then up at Spike’s face, her street-toughness melting into confusion and a little fear. “My… boss,” she said uncertainly. Spike extracted a few more bills and held them out to her. “How much will get you out of here permanently?” he said. She looked at the money again, said nothing. “I’m not lying, Oy,” Spike said. “This is big. You help us and we help you. How much?” She took the leap. “Twenty-five hundred. American dollars.” “Done,” Spike said, and he tossed her a roll of bills. “That’s five thousand. I want you gone by sunrise, Oy.” Her face broke into a smile that revealed how young she really was. “Yes, mister. Thank you.” She went to a cardboard box, quickly gathered some clothes and a toy dog into a plastic bag. Within two minutes she was out the door. “That was a good thing you did,” Angel said. “Yeah, I’m the next Mother Teresa,” Spike replied. “Now help me. We have to get this rat-hole sun-proof by down.” - - - - - Angel found he had no moral qualms whatsoever in calmly breaking the neck of Oy’s pimp when he came round the middle of the next morning, but although he and Spike had both subsisted on rats and other vermin in the recent past, they both deemed the greasy boy with the pencil mustache too pestilent to feed from and left him behind the shanty under a tarp. By early afternoon, the thirty-hour laptop battery was dead, and the QS forums were no closer to pinpointing a location and time for closing the third gateway. “We’ll have to risk checking into a real hotel,” Spike said. “Maybe if we stay in the tourist areas we can blend in more.” “Or we can find a medium,” Angel suggested. “Contact Wesley ourselves.” Spike massaged his temples with his fingertips. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Hurry, sundown.” - - - - - As the afternoon deepened, the shanty-town began to fill with tourists and residents, and Angel and Spike watched through the curtains at the horrible business. “I wish I could buy freedom for all of them,” Spike said quietly, even as his lip curled in disgust, and Angel put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Just before sunset, as the last dusty beams of light shone down the alleys between the shacks, they heard sirens and barking dogs, and shouts from nearby. “What the hell?” Spike said, and they heard a girl begin to scream outside the door. They looked through the windows, saw policemen kicking down doors and dragging customers into the street. “You can’t do this,” one man complained. “I am an American citizen.” A brisk young woman in a blazer, carrying a clipboard, stepped out of the confusion. “That’s very interesting, sir,” she said. “I’m sure your local police department would be interested in knowing one of their citizens took a vacation to have sex with a…” She looked through the open door he had just exited. “…I’d say ten-year-old boy. Perhaps your wife or boss would like to know, too. Let me see your passport.” As the man spluttered, Spike backed away from the windows to gather their bags. “We have to get out the second that sun goes down,” he said. “They probably have the whole district surrounded,” Angel said. “We might have to punch our way out.” “I was hoping you’d say that,” Spike said with a humorless grin. And then their door was kicked down. “Come out quietly,” said the figure framed in the doorway. “You’re under arrest.” “For what?” Spike said, spreading his arms. “We’re the only two here, and we’re both well past the age of majority. And what’s your jurisdiction here, anyway… Yank.” “Spike,” Angel hissed, holding up one hand, and he stepped closer to the door. “Hello, Connor,” he said. - - - - - All three stood frozen for a long moment, but the boy at the door spoke first. “Dad?” he said, and his voice was small and filled with bewilderment. “What are you doing here?” Angel glanced past him, at the last orange rays of sunlight extinguishing. “Spike, get the bags,” he said, and the younger vampire broke out of his stunned daze and began to move. “What are you doing here?” Connor said more forcefully. “We’re hiding,” Angel said. “There are a lot of very bad things that want us dead, and we needed to go someplace they couldn’t find us.” “But… here?” The boy regarded the shanty with utter disdain. “We paid for it, fair and square,” Spike protested, and Angel raised his hand again. “I don’t want you involved,” Angel said. “It’s too dangerous.” Connor took a step back. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said in a hushed voice and Angel laughed. “I’m thinking the exact same thing,” he said. Spike thrust two bags in Angel’s direction. “We have to go,” he said. “When this is over, I’ll get in touch with you,” Angel said to Connor as they pushed past him. “I promise.” Spike gave Connor a hard look of his own going by, and then he and Angel were moving through the maze of muddy alleys. “I just have to clarify here, Angel,” Spike said. “That kid called you *Dad?* Did I hear that?” “Spike, this isn’t the best time,” Angel said. “I’ll explain. Just not right now.” “Yeah. I can’t wait…” Connor dropped off the roof right in front of them. “Bloody hell!” “I’m staying at the Hilton,” Connor said. “Tourists, mostly, and businessmen. I can’t guarantee it’s clean, but I’m ninety percent sure.” Angel gave a curt nod. “Thanks,” he said, and Connor sprang straight up back onto the roof and ran off. “Bloody hell,” Spike repeated. - - - - - They got out of the red-light district, made their way along the river to the business center, found the Hilton, a gleaming spire rising out of the decay. Angel got a room for Spike and himself; they showered, long, hot soaks that, even after scrubbing themselves pink, made them feel no cleaner. After, Spike filled the tub, washed out their clothes as best he could and hung them on the rod. Then he and Angel put on fresh outfits and repaired to the hotel lounge. They sat where they had a clear view of the entrance. “So,” Spike said, the first word he had spoken since leaving the shantytown. “Dad?” Angel downed his brandy, laced his fingers together. “It started with Wolfram and Hart,” he said. “They found a way to bring Darla back to life…” - - - - - Several hours and many drinks later, Angel had exhausted his story to Spike’s varying degrees of shock, anger, and sadness. “God, did the Powers jerk you around,” Spike said. “Fuckers.” “I can’t say it was all bad,” Angel said. “I never expected to have a child, and Connor… I can’t tell you how amazing he is, Spike. When he was born, he was so…” “Beautiful, incredible, miraculous, yes, you told me,” Spike said. “I got it.” “Sorry,” Angel mumbled. “I can’t get over it myself, sometimes.” “No, it’s okay,” Spike said. “Wish I’d known it earlier, is all.” “I was going to tell you after we closed the fourth gate,” Angel said. “I meant before,” Spike said. “When your boy was first born. I’m part of the family. I could have helped, maybe.” Angel stared at him, unable to react. “Spike, I…” Spike gave his head a dismissive shake. “No, that’s stupid,” he said. “I was different, then.” Angel touched Spike’s wrist. “We both were.” Spike gave a sad smile, looking down at Angel’s hand, then shook it off with a light laugh. “Still, water under the bridge, yeah? Can’t go back in time.” “Yeah…” Angel said. The front doors of the hotel slid open, admitting several people, some in business suits, some in paramilitary gear. Connor, in the latter group, spotted the vampires and nodded, pointed to his watch, mouthed “twenty minutes,” and headed for the elevator. It was nearly half an hour until Connor came down, but he was smiling. He joined Angel and Spike at their table. “You’re the last person I expected to see,” he said, taking Angel’s hand. “What are the two of you doing here?” “You know, demon stuff,” Angel said. “I’ll tell you in a minute; I’ve been talking for awhile now. What are you doing here?” Connor sat down. “Started after I saw you last,” he said. “I had this power I didn’t know I had before. I knew I could do so much good.” He gave a small smile, said quietly, “you taught me that. “Anyway,” he went on, “I found out about this lawyer, comes to places like this and does everything he can to make it very difficult for these scumbags who exploit children to do business. Pretty much, we shame these countries into enforcing their own laws and make it undesirable for potential customers to make the trip.” “Hit ’em where the money is,” Spike said. Connor grinned slyly. “Exactly.” “So where do you fit in?” Angel said. Connor leaned back. “They’ve found it’s helpful to have someone on your side who’s very hard to kill,” he said. He signaled for a waitress, then turned back. “So you have to tell me. What are you doing here?” - - - - - “And that brings us up to this evening,” Angel concluded. “Wow. That’s quite a story,” Connor said. “But I’m not sure on a few things. Like the last gate. What kept Spike from keeping Shanshu? What bound him to this plane?” Angel and Spike exchanged glances, Spike looking away first, his expression tight. “Well, Spike… and I…” Angel began, helplessly trying to explain without explaining, but a light seemed to click on over Connor’s head. “Wait a minute,” he said, starting to laugh in disbelief. “Do you mean the two of you..?” “Yes,” Angel said softly, and Spike turned back, sheepish. “It’s like that sometimes with vampires,” Spike explained quickly. “The shared blood, the Sire, um… *offspring* relationship…” “Spike…” Angel shushed him. “It is that way with vampires sometimes,” he said to Connor. “But in this particular case, I care very deeply for Spike. I love him. It’s much more than just blood.” “Oh…” Connor considered this. “So this brings the total to four fathers, now,” he said. “My family tree is gonna look like the Gordian knot.” “Yeah,” Spike agreed. “Especially since your mother is also your grandmother and I’m kind of your brother.” “Nephew,” Angel corrected, earning a laugh from Connor and a glare from Spike. “Sir?” This was one of the hotel porters. “Are you Mr. Angel, sir?” Angel and Spike were instantly wary. “Who wants to know?” Spike said. “I have a phone message, sir,” the porter said, holding a folded piece of paper. “I’ll take it,” Angel said, and the porter retreated. “It’s from Wesley,” Angel read. “Shit,” Spike muttered. “We forgot to check the laptop.” “Kyoto, Japan. Four days,” Angel said, and re-folded the sheet. “He sends Connor his regards.” “He’s good,” Spike said, impressed. “Wait,” Connor said. “Is that the last gate?” “God, I hope so,” Angel said. “I’m coming with you,” Connor said. “The hell you are,” Angel answered. “Come on,” Connor cajoled him. “We have to leave the country by tomorrow anyway. I’d much rather go with you than back to school.” “You’re skipping school?” Angel growled. “Midterm break,” Connor said. “I don’t have to be back until Monday morning.” “That is five days,” Spike said reasonably. “And we’ll be done in Japan in four.” “Whose side are you on?” Angel said, even more annoyed now. “The side where we have as many good fighters on our side as we can manage,” Spike came back. “That’s two against one,” Connor said. Angel crossed his arms and glowered at his two “sons.” “Okay,” he said after a minute, then pointed one finger at Connor. “But you do not get yourself into any combative situations without my say-so. Got it?” “Yes, sir,” Connor said meekly. “As for you,” Angel pointed at Spike, “this is not a holiday. You are to protect Connor at all times. And no bars.” “Lighten up,” Spike said. “He’s… how old are you?” “Twenty.” “See that. He’s a grown man,” Spike said. “He doesn’t need Uncle Spike…” “Nephew Spike,” Connor said. The hotel doors slid open again, and all three turned, suddenly alert. Two enormous men and a squirrelly guy in a shiny suit entered and walked towards the reception desk. “Demons?” Connor asked quietly. “The two big ones, maybe,” Spike said, “but the one in the middle is looking for your lot.” “Time to go,” Angel said, and they seemed to evaporate from the table. - - - - - An hour before dawn, three dark figures entered a panel truck delivering wrapping paper to the city’s largest flower market, had it hotwired and pulling onto the main highway before the driver even realized it had been taken. The non-flammable one of the trio quickly took the wheel while his companions secured their gear, and then hid themselves beneath blankets in the darkness. |