 |
 Lost and Found Rated- PG13
(there might be some NC17 parts posted separately) Spoilers-
Buffy: Summary- I’m
fixing everything Joss messed up. How? With a spell, a ghost, some visions, an
awakening, and a revised prophecy. Still don't know what this is about? Well,
then read it and find out. B/S, A/X, A/C, D/C, and maybe F/W (that’s Faith and
Wes. What do you think?) Disclaimer- I
don’t own Buffy or Angel. If I did I wouldn’t have to write this story ***Remember
that Spike still thinks Lindsey is Doyle. Also, the game Spike is plays is
Final Fantasy VIII if anyone is curious. Chapter 5-
Those Damned PTBs Lindsey
McDonald wasn’t an evil man. He didn’t wholly support the dark side. He wasn’t
all ra-ra for hell on earth, as some of his former Wolfram and Hart colleagues
had been. It was just that he looked out for number one. He disregarded
everyone else, and didn’t give a damn how they were effected as long as he got
what he wanted. The little civilian on the street was so far away. If the
person died so what? One life out in the massive crowd would never touch his. Until now. The visions
weren’t letting up. He ignored them as best he could. The television was the
best aid. But it was a pathetic attempt at blocking out the mind-blowing
images. No, not just images. There were sounds as well. And feelings. Oh, God,
the feelings! It was all too
real. All too close. He wasn’t in his apartment when the visions hit. He was
right there beside the victim. Almost a part of them. It had been so
easy before. He had been able to set himself aside from the rest of the world.
Now it was impossible. Eventually he
couldn’t take the TV anymore. He sat in his gray recliner, still, merging in
with the shadows. He felt like
crying. But he didn’t. The small
child’s scream echoed in his ears. The demon was eating him alive. Piece by
piece. The parents had already been taken care of. Lindsey wasn’t
aware of it, but his voice joined that of the boy’s. *********************** “Bloody hell!”
Spike exclaimed. He pushed the
buttons furiously as he watched the television screen. A giant bird streamed
out electricity on the enemy. “Not death
again! She already killed the Furious
pounding came from the door. Spike paid no attention and continued his game.
The pounding grew even more commanding. He threw down the green Playstation
controller out of frustration as the Game Over appeared. The
bleached-blonde vampire got to his feet. “All right, all right, keep your
knickers on.” He went over to the door and yanked it open. “Doyle, fancy seein
you here. Come for a beer? Some poker? A smoke?” His visitor
simply stared. He looked like shit. His eyes were blood-shot, and it seemed as
if he might fall over any second. “Guess not
then,” Spike muttered. He nodded. “So, it’s a vision again is it? I’ll get my
coat.” Spike
retreated back into his apartment. He quickly shut off his Playstation and
grabbed his duster. He donned the worn leather as if it were a second skin. He
was never completely whole without it. Spike stepped
out. “Where am I off to?” “Follow me,”
Doyle stated. It was said weakly, as if it took a lot out of him to get it out.
The vampire
thought about objecting. Doyle was in no condition to go on an excursion. But
he wasn‘t his keeper. Let the guy make his own decisions. “Right then.
You’re the leader.” The seer led
him through town. Spike noticed that he kept his eyes straight ahead, hardly
noticing anything around him. He wondered why the powers would pick a regular
guy like this to carry such a burden. Surely there was someone stronger for the
job. Not that he was volunteering or anything. He had had his fill of
headaches. Spike
recognized the surroundings enter the poorer side of town. Not the ghetto
exactly, but not Beverly Hills. Suddenly Doyle
halted with a holler. He supported himself against a nearby building. His gaze
roamed to the sky above. “I’m going!
You win, all right! I heard you the first time, I don’t need a repeat!” Spike narrowed
his eyes, peering at this man that called himself Doyle. He was beginning to
grow concerned about his guide’s sanity. Doyle was one step away from falling
to pieces. After a
moment, Doyle continued on. His pace was detectably slower, though. They
finally made it to their destination, which happened to be a small one-story
house. It was white, and packed between two identical dwellings. The front door
was partially open. Spike’s
nostrils flared. Blood. “This is it,”
Doyle got out. He breathed in deeply. “I’ll check it
out,” Spike told his companion. He expected a
response, but got none. Doyle was accepting. Spike nodded and proceeded solely.
Spike’s senses
perked. The stench of blood pulled at his demon. It was strong. He entered the
home, hoping for better, expecting the worse. Which he got. Red painted
the ceiling, walls, and floor. Parts scattered here-and-there. There was no
movement. No heartbeats. Nothing at all. Spike turned
away quickly. He had seen many things in his unlife. Deaths made up a majority
of them. He was used to the scenes. Didn’t mean he didn’t care. Just meant it
didn’t shock him. He made his
way back to Doyle, who was leaning against a tree. “They’re dead,
huh?” Doyle questioned, already knowing the answer. “Been that way
for awhile now,” Spike answered. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He
had been cutting back, but the call for nicotine was strong. He had seen the
mangled arm, too small to be an adult. There had been a bleeding kid in that
house. “Waited too
long,” Doyle murmured. “Yeah, well .
. .” Spike began, but then didn’t really know what he wanted to say. He stared
at his burning cigarette. He sighed and stomped it out. It wasn’t as appealing
after a second thought. “I need help,”
Doyle said. His voice was steady, stronger, more certain. “Look here,
I’d love to take away your nasty buggering mind jumblies, but I’m not an expert
in those things. I know of this shaman if you don’t mind venturin to A choked laugh
escaped Doyle. He flexed his right hand, transfixed by the movement. Then he
raised his head, his eyes clearer than Spike had ever seen them. “Take me to
Wolfram and Hart.” ______________________________________________ Sorry for the
wait. I’m kinda having trouble focusing on writing. My brain is a jumbled mess |
