After the Fall

by
Josie_h

Part Six

It was one am when they made it to the closest small town, two am when they hotwired an old jalopy from a dodgy looking garage, and three am when it ran out of petrol. But according to the ancient, slightly torn road map (thankfully found stuffed under the front passenger seat) they only had a couple of miles to the Battle Lands Creek.

Their little band of injured brothers struggled on. Jonothon’s leg was better but had not been set properly, none had shoes and Xander’s head was aching again. He felt for Eddie. When he’d lost an eye it had been hospital and meds. Despite regular laving with vampire saliva by first Spike and now his lover Jonothon, Xander knew the blue demon had suffered. There was little to be done but bear all of their pains as stoically as they could. Jonothon’s teeth did not seem to be growing back. Spike quietly confided in Xander that he thought they might be many months coming in, as it was every tooth and his current physical state was seriously undernourished. Xander admired Eddie’s fortitude as he reopened the raw wound on his wrist night after night to feed his friend.

It was near pitch black on a moonless night as they struggled through a forested area. The vampires leading their visually impaired friends. Breaking out of the thick underbrush, they had been struggling through, the ragtag bunch found themselves facing a rather rundown set of farm buildings and a ramshackle house with yard full of rubbish and old harvesting equipment. What was a little more disturbing was the string of headless carcasses hanging beside the shed and enormous pile of chicken bones resting underneath the gory string.

They pushed cautiously into the shed. Spike saw it first, the pentagram on the wall and ring of salt on the floor. This was no ordinary farmer, but just what his thoughts on demons might be were still unknown.

They eased themselves out of the magic shed, deciding to err on the side of caution and make their ‘nest’ for the day in an abandoned truck that had somehow landed in the bushes. It’s rusty shell, sans motor, giving enough cover for the four. As dawn approached they all scooted underneath the body of the truck, Eddie and Xander sandwiching their two precious vampires between them and tucking the toxic waste coveralls over the top… just in case.

Xander woke some time near sunrise, to the muzzle of a gun leveled at his nose and a torchlight in his face.

“Git yer sorry arse outa there ya freeloadin’ hobo!”

Xander had no choice.

He was caught, but hoped desperately that the others would stay silent and hidden.

He shuffled awkwardly from underneath the truck, all the while conscious of the double barrel rifle aimed at his head.

As he heard it cocked to fire and the bloodhound he faced bared his teeth, he assumed he was to die. He did the only thing he could think of and fell into a begging position, kneeling completely down on the ground in front of the gun toting inquisitor. But he just could not control the final fear.

The smell of warm urine became evident.

Yet the gun did not fire.

"Good glory be!! Son… Good glory be!!”

The dog didn’t attack, merely sniffed. His elderly owner pointed the rifle away from his face and squatted down. The light was still blinding.

“Now from what Hell did y’all come from…. ‘cause I’m figurin’ there’s more to you as meets the eye.”

Xander still was not game to look up, let alone speak, but a calloused hand gripped his chin and forced him.

The elder gent took in the gaunt features and lost look, “Lord son, how long since you ate?....” The dog began to sniff around the truck and Xander knew their run was up as the hound barked and howled.

“Please….please… sir… No …. NO!!!... Please… we’re harmless…. we won’t …. Please we just need…” The excited dog was still bouncing around, snuffling and barking at the truck. As he inadvertently trod on the fugitive’s injured arm, Xander cried out, then paled and threw up the tiny amount of food he had consumed sometime earlier that day.

He lay his head in his own vomit and began to cry. “Just shoot me… please just shoot me…. Plea…ssse.”

The dog began to bark at the truck again.

There was no option this time and the other three shifted to join their prostrated friend, taking on similar positions of subservience. The old man noted that the waif thin long haired blonde had wrapped his arms around the now ‘self-soiled’ brunette. He shone the torchlight down the line of sorry individuals. Even clothed, it was obvious that the four were all so thin that an anatomy lesson would have been pointless if attempting to study the muscular form of humans. They were all bones covered by skin. He noted the bruising and the obvious injuries. These were no normal runaways.

Trained eyes focused on the odd coloration of the smallest in the group and he suddenly understood. An accusative, “You survived the blast!” was met by whimpers from at least two of the four, and the smaller pair reached to hold each other's hands even though they were still kneeling fully down.

The voice suddenly changed to become one of comfort, “Oh now…. No need to go frettin’. But ya might like to come on inside seein’ as the sun will be up in a while. Got a couple of deliveries comin’ this mornin’. Wouldn’t want for the neighbors to find yer sorry arses.”

A calloused hand again reached down to cup Xander’s chin and lift the now tear streaked face. “Ohhh son, you ‘n yer friends are safe with me, at least for now….” He reached down and lifted each of the prostrated figures to a bewildered kneel, then encouraged them to stand. He noted Jonothon’s struggle and the splinted leg, asking, “Can y’all walk or should I…”

Xander cut him off with a half hitched sob as he whispered, “We’ll be fine…. Oh please god… thank you… we’ll be fine….” The small blue figure also shook his head, and slipped a shoulder under his injured friend’s arm supporting him yet again as they struggled toward the house. The four limped behind the elderly gent as he led them indoors, walking openly, for the first time in two years… freely … welcomed.. into a home. Admittedly it was the dead of night and a rather shabby residence…. But the relief, the ‘freely’ and the ‘your all welcome’ was tear-worthy in itself.

They were ushered into a small lounge room, the worn couch and threadbare rugs gave away the precarious finances of the kind individual in front of them. As they went to sit a warm hand stopped Xander and a small bath towel was pushed into his arms.

“Son you need to go clean up…”


“Oh Gahhh I am so sorry… I..I..” A tear dropped but Xander was caught by his lovely vampire as he almost collapsed again. A warm hand patted his back just as a cool one supported him around his waist.

“No apologies needed son, there’s shampoo and all sorts in the shower room… you jes go git yerself clean and I’ll sort some spare threads for ya. Figure you folks are travellin’ ‘light’.”

Xander nodded still teary but with polite contrition, then was followed to the shower room by his vampire friend.

As soon as they were alone, he was the recipient of an unexpected, very hard smack to the backside, “You bloody idiot!!... You took a risk for us again!”

“It paid off!” Xander threw off the Tshirt.

“Ho yeah! Now your the so confident Mr I-peed-my-pants-when-the-rifle-was-in-my face person!”

“For f#$k sake Spike, what was I supposed to do? I can’t lose you!”

“And I. Can’t. Bloody well. Lose. You! You great. Selfish F#@$ing Git!”

Xander’s countenance dropped, he a raised tearfilled eye to his lovely friend as he dropped his rather ‘whiffy, damp, sweat pants and stepped into the shower with his cherished vampire.

“I’m sorry Spike.” The large brown eye begged forgiveness… Spike gave it freely, grabbing the soap and sponge and gently beginning to wash his friend… “Yeah well… just don’t bloody well go doin’ it again… yeah?”

“I won’t… promise.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah… Spike?” The stress of the last days overcame the human and he fell forward resting his forehead on Spike’s shoulder as loving strokes drove soap across his thin form in the blissfully warm stream of water.

Spike heard a groan and worried about the arm, “What?”

“Just wanna let you know….”

“What Pet?”

“I… I love you… you know that don’t you? I am so lucky to have had you…. no matter what happens I love you.” The words were slurring together as Xander closed his eyes and gave in to the wonderful sensation of being washed by the warm cascade and gentle strokes.

But Spike heard the truth and the water diluted the salt of his own tears. Their current host was sympathetic, but they were still running. One day though, perhaps one day it might be possible that they be together openly and with the blessing of others…. One day.

A cheerful voice broke through his reverie and Xander’s semi slumber, ‘C’mon you two… grub’s up! We’ve got two more ta wash and a bit ta discuss I reckon!”

Part Seven

Their host ushered them into the cluttered, nineteen thirties style kitchen, complete with wood stove. The benches were littered with jars, fresh produce from the garden, unwashed pots and various appliances including an ancient mix master and what looked like a meat grinder.

A chipped wooden table was laid out for the meal, unmatching rickety wooden chairs jammed in to accommodate five places, and a cheerful collection of condiments forming the centerpiece.

“Take a seat boys, enjoy… I’m Samuel by the way. The dog is Missy.” The blood hound looked up from the mat near the door and gave a cursory wag of her tail.

The same bewildered look graced all their faces as they shakily took their seats, it was all a little too overwhelming to take in. They were welcomed to a breakfast of fried eggs with bacon, with side of home baked bread and, rather oddly, a large bowl each of steaming chicken stew.

“Figured ya’d all do with a good feedin’.”

The four sat in silence around the table, hardly able to eat. They were all clean, apparently welcomed to their first real meal for … years… and without exception, terrified that it might end at any moment… that their benefactor might turn on them… that this might be a trick and simply the courtesy of a last meal.

Finally Eddie could stand it no more… It was too perfect. Utterly panicked by his own thoughts of being sent back after but a few days of freedom, he pushed away from the table forcefully, having barely touched his meal. He fell to the ground, again prostrated himself at the feet of the old man, and began to beg, “Please, please sir… don’t send us back, please don’t…. we mean no harm… we’ve done nothing to hurt… Oh … please!!!......” The words trailed off in favor of a pathetic keening sound.

His shocked fellow escapees were jolted by the sudden act, unsure of what had happened to prompt it, but instantly terrified. They were about to vacate their own chairs and follow Eddie’s lead, when they were stilled by the simple firm command… “Don’t…. Please!!! Just don’t… and son?” A wrinkled hand reached down to touch the shoulder of the trembling form and Samuel dropped from his own chair, sat on the floor and pulled the overwhelmed small blue figure to his chest as one might a beloved young child. “Don’t know as what brought this on, I ain’t gonna hurt ya or turn ya’ll in. Now come and take yerself a hug from old Samuel here… that’s the way, never hurt no one to take a hug.” He rocked the tense figure and continued to whisper words of nonsense until the little demon relaxed and began to sob quietly, then seemed to nod off to sleep.

Spike staid Jonothon with a calming hand as they watched the scene. After Eddie calmed, Samuel nodded at the other three, and they slowly moved to surround their host and their friend on the floor.

Jonothon’s tear filled eyes and the toothless lisping “Thank you.”, garnered a gentle pat on the shoulder from their elderly host.

They remained on the floor for close to half an hour before Eddie seemed to recover and roused a little. They stood and began to return to their places, Samuel gently easing the very quiet blue individual into his chair. The others waited patiently but then reached for their utensils intent upon finishing to the now cold meal, reeling back confused when their host exclaimed “No, no, no!”. The jolt of adrenalin caused Xander’s stomach to grumble loudly but they all sat nervous, motionless and silent, none willing to risk a move.

“Oh Geez. My apologies folks… gonna have ta’ explain myself a whole bunch ain’t I…. I just mean don’t go eatin’ it cold! If y’all can wait a minute or ten I’ll have it up and pipin’ hot! Now sit yerselves down …and I tell ya what … have one or two of these whilst ya waitin’ … I know it’s too darned early but figure as you folks need it….It’s got a little more kick than yer average… but I ain’t gonna excuse that!”

Samuel quickly gathered up all the plates, and placed a large glass bottle of home brewed beer on the table along with five mismatched tumblers.

“Now, one of you will have to do the honors ‘til I’m done with yer food.”

Spike took up the bottle reverently, and tilted each glass shakily to he pour each of his fellow diners a drink of the rich amber liquid. Four groans accompanied the first draft of the beer. By the second mouthful, even the vampires had felt the effects and relaxed a little. Jonothon reached over to take Eddie’s free hand and squeezed, Xander did the same for Spike.

Sometime later, the four had struggled to do justice to the homemade hot food. Samuel noticed with horror that his lisping guest seemed unable to bite anything, simply sucking at his food. He had saw the raw cut on the blue friend’s arm and wondered.

Soon after, as the blonde reached for the brunette’s hand to squeeze it again reasurringly, their host noticed deep bite wounds on both wrists, then winced as he gazed at the horrendously rough nature of the ocular implant. He chatted amicably and after several minutes of discussing the farm and receiving taciturn, vague answers to any of his questions to the group, he decided to trust his gut instinct.

“I know you folks are from the Initiative 'Institute' that was done in a few nights back,” Mumbling under his breath, “and praise the lord for that.” Then continued, “I’m guessing you are part of our ‘glorious’ government’s ‘cleansing’ program…. and before any of you panic again…. I should also be one of the hunted…”

Spike looked at the old man hard, trying to sense a difference, but his head buzzed a little with the alcohol, and his brain simply would not compute, now that his stomach was actually full – even if only with human food. As Samuel continued with his story, all four companions could not help but wonder at the confluence of events and serendipity that had led to them to their current freedom… and survival.

Samuel’s mother had been part Maori and a practicing wiccan… borne and bred in the north island of New Zealand. She had fallen in love with a US gunner during World War Two. He survived nearly eighteen months of a Japanese POW camp in Borneo before they ‘got him out’. Samuel happily compared his guests’ current state to stories of his father’s early days after his liberation.

They had moved to the farm in the US, but his mother had kept to herself a great deal – aware of her ‘foreigner’ status, even in looks and more so in magical leanings. She did bring all her magical skills with her, however rarely practiced more than in a healer’s capacity.

He was borne eight years after their move to the USA. She died when her son was ten. His father passed on slowly after that. Samuel figured ‘they’d call it somethin’ fancy like emphasema these days’. The reality was that he was left with the farm at twenty but at thirty, still single, started to have ‘fits’ accompanied by bizarre visions.

A local doctor decided it was a form of epilepsy, and Samuel was put on to some hefty medication.

By forty, the fits gradually became accompanied by very clear visions. With no one around him, he fell into melancholy and confusion, and was treated for anxiety and depression. Eventually he admitted ‘an edited version’ of what he ‘saw’ to another doctor and was consequently diagnosed with a form of schizophrenia… By his fifties, he was a regular visitor to a private respite for those who suffered ‘mental distress’, occasionally choosing to use their live-in facilities when the visions became too overwhelming. He knew the true reason for his severe ‘attacks’, as he approached his late fifties, was the constant images of death and mayhem caused by the Initiative’s slaughter.

Fortunately as the first Initiative sweeps came through, he was deemed an invalid and non demon. In the second ‘round up’ (even though his visions were being shared with a select few), the testimony of an elderly local preacher and some sympathetic neighbors had him labeled an ‘unfortunate sufferer of mental illness’ and not of interest. And as the last purge of the area passed (taking with it several of his magically inclined contacts) fortune had it, that he was again ‘resting’ for a month in a respite for the mentally ill two counties away.

Despite it all, he had managed to survive on the farm and investigated the occult, eventually dabbling in witchcraft using his mother’s (still securely hidden) books. He slowly came to know the ‘fits’ for what they were, and when he found it possible, he passed on the messages the visions contained. He knew when he had, it made a difference. Over time he had become a very quiet member of the resistance movement working for ‘non humans’, continuing to help the persecuted quietly, whenever he could. The locals around simply seemed to think him a harmless, mentally impaired, chicken farmer, and he did not bother to correct the impression.

As he ceased speaking and rose to collect their plates, he took in the far more relaxed posture of his guests and decided it was time.

“So that’s me, and now ya know enough to have me arrested good ‘n proper. So can ya do me the honor of introducin’ yerselves.”

Despite his currently dulled senses, Spike had detected the pain, fear and anger as the man had continued his story, and felt its truth. He answered Samuel quietly, “I’m William, but go by Spike mostly. I am an ensouled vampire and a Master of the Aurelian line. This was my second time in the hands of the ‘Initiative’. This is my friend Xander, borne on the Hellmouth, a human, friend of the only Slayer at that time and White Hat warrior. He was taken for his sympathies….” He squeezed Xander’s hand and was about to continue when Eddie began to speak quietly.

“I am Edwin, I am a Parsalas demon. We are a peaceful race. I am the last of our family, we were all taken.” He paused after a hitched breath, composed himself a little then continued as he saw Samuel’s gaze fall on the other silent figure, “This is Jonothon, my dear, gentle vampire and my friend.” Then blurted out “They took all his teeth!! He is only a fledge of ten and they kept taking his teeth!”

“Yes, son I guessed ‘bout the teeth….” He returned to the table and looked at the two vampires particularly, “Now I honestly don’t reckon I have a supply of the real stuff y’all need but if ya can stand it, we can probably scrape by on a few donations from the bigger animals ‘til we come up with somethin’. Sorry ta admit that all I can offer is the old tornado shelter or the attic for sleepin’ with four of ya ‘n all, go for the shelter if I were you… Attic’s a mite cluttered….” Sighs of relief and heartfelt words of gratitude came from around the table as they all heard the ‘we’ and the indication that Samuel expected them to stay.

“Right well that’s settled. I’ll sort out some beddin’ later so long as y’all can amuse yerselves today. Fer now it’s work time so I’ll leave you ta sort the dishes.” With that he stood, collected an old plastic bucket and battered hat from the door, whistled the dog and departed out the back door of the house. He left behind four overwhelmed but deeply grateful guests to tidy up, then rest for the day.

Part Eight

They cleaned up the remains of breakfast as instructed, after Samuel left, then wandered the house a little lost and utterly exhausted. There had been no permission given or refused regarding which room exactly they were to be in, whether they should sleep or what they might touch. The bedroom was out of the question of course, private space. The bathroom, though an aqua blue and odd yellow color, was still tiled and cold… too reminiscent of their recent compulsory accommodations. The lounge was the only possibility for rest but the driving need for all four to be in the one place, for comfort and for courage, steered them away from the couch and led them to settling for the rug in front of the hearth. The fireplace was cold and the rug an old shag pile from the seventies, but it was softer than the bare boards and they were together.

As they lay down in their habitual fashion, spooned sardine-like, Xander tugged a hand crocheted, multicolored, rather worn throw rug from the couch, bringing with it two tattered looking cushions. The wealth was distributed. Two heads shared each pillow and the throw was stretched to cover three quarters of everyone. Eddie gasped at Xander’s audacity; Jonothon held him; Spike snuggled; and Xander ventured a smile as his head joined Spike’s on the small cushion. Within minutes they had all given in to sleep.

Two delivery vans and a postman’s motorbike disturbed their slumber a little during the morning. Two nightmares and a scream of anguish woke them completely early afternoon. Two friends realized it was Spike in the throws of a dream and Xander offered his wrist to quell and quiet. They all pulled closer and slept on.

Samuel returned to the house mid afternoon and spied his guests in the lounge room still on the mat. His countenance fell as he recognized their desperation, even in sleep. The four figures were pressed so closely that they appeared as one. Rather than disturbing the sleeping figures, he nudged Missy who was at heel, and they both backed silently into the kitchen.

He pushed the large tub of cow’s blood into the fridge, stood the bucket of fresh milk in the cool pantry to stand, and emptied his pockets of the lemons he’d picked on the way through. He nudged the kettle onto the hotplate of the stove and began to scribble the date on eggs collected earlier that morning. He was almost done when a sleepy brunette emerged followed by a rather disorientated looking blonde. They stood nervously by the door, then finally Xander plucked up the courage to ask. Still gripping his friend’s hand, he looked up and said, “Umm… Is there anything…. Ummmm… Is there anything we can do to help?”

Samuel smiled and responded warmly, “Why sure son!! A’course ya can help! It’s a farm… always somethin’ ta do… glad ya asked…” He reached into the pantry, easing out an enormous white bucket filled with the milk from the previous day and nodded at Spike.

“Don’t know your background son but you reckon you could skim the cream and put this lot into them bottles?” He nodded at the sink where a funnel and collection of glass bottles waited.

Spike brightened and gave Samuel a naughty grin, “So long as the help can have a spoon of the cream.” To which the old man snorted, “No problem… plenty more where that came from…. And by the way when you’re done there’s a treat in the fridge for ya… It’s ta share with your friend in there mind, and y’all can thank Shirelee for it later (she’s the black ‘n white one with the horns). But yer friend here is gonna be lackey fer the chef… ”

Samuel grabbed Xander’s arm and tugged him toward the door, all the while handing him an ancient paring knife, slinging an open basket over his arm and shoving a beaten up old Stetson hat on his head. “I need you ta collect some vegetables for supper… don’t care what, just gotta be enough for the whole lota ya – patch is down the back there. ‘N don’t you go frettin’… maybe plenty of sunlight but there ain’t no one gonna see.” He all but pushed the man out the door then turned to see Spike carefully and rather expertly skimming the cream from the bucket into a wide mouthed ceramic jar provided.

He asked quietly, “Where’d ya learn to do that?”

Before he had time to think, Spike answered rather wistfully in his original upper class English accent, “Cook used to let me help sometimes.”

Samuel recognized the slip for what it was, and ran with it, “Reckon ya ta be quite the fine helper, how old were ya then?”

Spike’s eyes glazed over even further as he remembered, “I guess I was around five or six. If Mother was out, Nanny Cartwright had the habit of a nap in the afternoon so it was my good fortune to have the run of the house. Cook told wonderful stories when prompted…. And I remember she had huge arms, and always smelled of cinnamon and cloves.” Samuel noted the wistful demeanor and decided to push a little more.

“So England?”

Spike was caught in his own reverie but also began receiving vague feelings of happiness… strangely…. he realized… from Xander…. Their regular blood exchange was having an effect despite no official claiming or mating. He refocused on Samuel and answered… “Indeed….”

“So ifn’ it aint a rude question… when son...?” His voice dropped to a near whisper, “When were you turned?”

Spike looked at their host and answered with utter honesty, “Eighteen eighties… shortly after the twenty sixth birthday… bloody baby I was….”

“Well my lord… and here’s me callin’ you son!” Samuel smiled at the vampire and it was returned easily, then Spike fell back into the speech patterns he was now used to.

“’S OK mate, I forget the age thing meself most of the time. And being called ‘son’? More than happy, so long as you don’t mind the occasional ‘Pa’.” Spike gave his best ‘naughty boy’ grin and his *younger* host roared with laughter then turned to make a pot of coffee. Spike was about to continue the easy conversation, when he was hit by a jolt of panic through a tenuous bloodlink. He dropped all premise of attending to what Samuel was saying, and raced toward the back door of the house.

……

Xander had been bustled out of the building before really acknowledging to himself what that might mean. It was not so much the sunlight, it was the abundance of it and the vastness of the sky. He faced an open space bathed in light so brilliant that his implant ached terribly and his good eye watered. It had been more than two years since he had been outside in the day.

The back door slammed shut and the rather shaky former Scooby stood contemplating how best to cross the yard. They had been outside when on the run but always in the cover of darkness. Outside still held fear, more the ‘what ifs’ than real threats, but fear nonetheless. What if he was seen? What if someone came? What if…. He edged his way around the yard using the various buildings as ‘cover’ then finally plucked up the courage to sprint across the wide, lit gap between chook house and rickety stand alone garage. From there he nervously entered the exposed vegetable patch.

He felt ridiculous being so uptight about such a simple task, yet had utterly no control over his own body’s reactions. The sun was glorious, warm and bright… too bright for his good eye and warm on his skin, yet he began to shiver as though it were mid winter. He pulled a few carrots and took a head of lettuce but he could not settle his thoughts. By the time he had gathered vine ripe tomatoes and a few herbs, he was frantic. The wind rustled leaves on a nearby tree. Instead of picking the basil as he had intended, he pulled it up by the roots, threw it into the basket and sprinted for the back door.

With the painful emotions flowing freely to him, Spike was up and heading for the door. Samuel heard the panicked footfalls and opened the screen for his terrified guest. He kicked himself for forgetting the still raw effects of their incarceration and torture, and resolved that solo activities might need to be ‘passed over’ for a time.

Xander all but dove into Spike’s arms and the two promptly fell to the floor. The intrepid garden harvester was embarrassed and ashamed, but could do little more than bury his face in the worn flannel shirt Spike sported, and allow himself to be hugged and comforted. Eddie wandered into the kitchen just as Xander began to regain his composure. The two exchanged a rueful smile. There really was no way to explain the feelings, nor a need to.

Samuel simply lifted the laden basket onto the table and retrieved the produce that had escaped to the floor during Xander’s fall. He then continued to make coffee as though two men hugging for comfort on his kitchen floor was a daily occurrence.

Vampire and friend finally stood, Spike returning to his task of bottling the milk. Xander joined Eddie who was now sitting at the table shelling some peas that had landed in front of him, courtesy of Samuel (with the accompanied “Idle hands do no one any favors” reminder). Xander turned to the elderly host looking apologetically at the basket of gathered vegetables.

“I’m sorry about the plant.” He touched the basil he had wrenched from the ground in panic, now lying limp in the basket. Before he had finished speaking, Samuel had placed a piping hot cup of coffee in front of both ‘sun resistant’ parties and patted the human on the back. “It’s OK son… It’s OK! Figure you boys have some issues. Besides! Been plannin’ to have a planter box nearby the door for months…” With that, he picked up the basil, pulled off a few leaves for dinner, then headed outside to retrieve a pot and dirt to pot said herb.

Samuel’s four guests eventually all pitched in making supper. They sat in silence but did eat a little more than at breakfast, and the vampires were served with ‘Chateau Shirelee’ and all seemed to avoid any ‘anguished outbursts’ during the meal.

At the conclusion of dinner, Samuel congratulated each of his assistants, noting Eddie’s rather teary response to the compliment. He then led them outside to the tornado shelter.

The well equipped space had lighting equipment and a generator ‘ready to go’. More importantly, there were two double futons, a ‘port-a-potty’ and make-shift shower.

“Apology’s folks, two doubles is all I could manage!”

Eddie moved to sit on one of the beds while Jonothon stood rather protectively beside him. Xander and Spike took the other bed and looked across at their fellow fugitives a little puzzled by the vampire’s sudden possessive bent.

“Hopin’ y’all will be right comfy here. And just so’s ya know… never was an Orwell fan so there ain’t no fancy cameras or nothin’ down there. Just a nice family affair.” The elderly gent gave a kindly smile to the blue demon and his (now assumed) partner Jonothon, then noted the continuing look of distress on Eddie’s face. He moved to squat in front of the pair seated on the right hand bed.

“What’s up son?...” He sat and was about to take the small demon’s hand when he received a desperate reply…

“I just… it’s just…” Tears began and could not be stopped… Jonothon moved lightening fast and pulled him into a hug. Samuel shifted back a little to watch as the (apparently!) soulless demon held, stroked and rocked his lovely partner…

“ C’mon dear heart … you’re OK… we’re OK… we’re OK… talk to me… please dear heart, talk to me!” Jonothon was in game face making his absence of teeth even more obvious, but the ‘true face’ leant weight to the tender gesture of rubbing foreheads together as ridges met smooth blue.

Samuel patted the vampire on the knee then stood to give the two space, “I’m sorry to have upset him son, guess I just figured I needed to know what prompts the tears.”

A drawn blue face turned to their kind host and whispered, “I’m the *male* of our species, but the Initiative changed my status… They…. They…They….I’m with child, sir … Jon knows… I am with child!… and I need… I need… Oh gahhh” Eddie burst into tears again.

Samuel squatted down silently for a few moments then asked quite matter of factly, “You know what it…”

Eddie cut him off, “It’s pure bred, from our own family DNA. Oh Gahhh… Jon…um Jon… oh gahh please!!!” Jonothon wrapped his arms even tighter and held on fast as Eddie sobbed inconsolably. “They killed… and they took… then… um then… Oh gahhh…. Why??? Why would…?? I’m…[hic] with… [hic]…. child…..”

Spike smelt it. Waves of unadulterated anger and incensed hurt flowed from their host Samuel, yet he managed to address them all in very controlled voice, “The ones who did this will pay. And Edwin?... you ‘n your little-uns are welcome here.” He then nodded at the others, reserving a special smile for Jonothon, “As are you all.”

By the time Samuel was showing them out of the tornado shelter, Jon had been stroking his blue friend for almost two hours and they were seriously talking of bringing up Eddie’s children on Sam’s farm. Spike squeezed Xander’s hand as they casually nodded their support for the ‘odd couple’.

Samuel smiled then leaned over to the vampire blonde and human brunette simply saying, “Your time is coming… you already have a taste… this moment is only the beginning… you cannot go wrong by loving freely.”

Xander looked up utterly confused... "What??"

Part Nine

The question was left unanswered and Samuel bustled them back into the house to collect some extra bedding, additional clothes and snack food in case they woke peckish before sundown. It would be possible to get to the shelter in the shade of the house of an afternoon but the vampires would have to stay put for the first part of the day given the easterly position of the shelter.

Once that was settled Spike assisted Samuel as he mixed up some plaster of paris. Spike checked the alignment of the bones in Xander’s forearm, the splint seemed to have done enough to hold them steady. Samuel expertly wrapped the arm with gauze and the white paste. He patted his patient on the knee and promised to strap Xander’s still painful ribs in due course. “Jes plum outa tape, I’ll sort it today for ya… Right... next youngster…” He looked over to Jonothon who blanched even whiter than his normal shade of pale. They all knew, the leg would have to be re-broken and set properly.

The toothless vampire moved to the floor and Eddie shifted to sit behind his friend. He pulled him tight to his chest and reopened the slice across his wrist with a knife. As Eddie pressed the dripping wound to Jon's mouth, Spike took the leg and with Samuel’s help cracked the bones again and forced them to properly align. Despite the distraction of drinking, Jonothon cried out around the wrist. He fell limp and passed out as Samuel swiftly created the cast while Spike continuing the slight tension on the limb to keep it straight.

“Ain’t much I can do ‘bout that eye o’ yours little one, I’m sorry, but I sure as heck can give somethin’ fer the pain and a bit of a patch to stop the dirt.” Eddie simply nodded his thanks and continued to hold his unconscious friend.

For the next few weeks, a pattern began to establish itself and became a quiet and welcome routine.

Most deliveries and pickups happened at the farm in the morning. Samuel’s eggs and chickens left for market along with the occasional box of vegetables and less frequently, a brace of rabbits.

Early afternoon they would emerge to the shade of the house. Xander and Eddie busied themselves collecting eggs and tending the garden. Eddie proving the most useful in the horticulture area, and taking great delight as the vegetable patch flourished under his loving touch. Xander provided the muscle once his ribs began to heal and cast came off. The garden was extended and Eddie delighted as his own bump grew (surprisingly quickly) apparently keeping pace with the produce!

They were all careful to have a cover story ready in the event that they might be seen – particularly in the day. Consequently a bee hive was placed in the corner of the patch and Eddie always had the full bee keeper overalls on when working and the all encompassing hat and gloves ready should they have visitors. With his softly spoken voice and small stature (and now obviously pregnant state) Xander and he were to give the story that Xander was one of Samuel’s friends from the hospital, and Samuel was helping out ‘Edwina and Alex’ in their time of need. Happily the excuse was never needed for Eddie.

Eventually Xander split his time between the garden and the shed where he had discovered an ancient lathe and various woodworking tools. He sharpened the tools with expert hands and spent the first few weeks restoring every chair in the house to ‘mint condition’, even using a cured cow hide from a few years previous to re-cover Samuel’s mother’s favorite piece, a chaise lounge. Originally rickety and ‘stored’ in the bedroom, it had been Samuel’s turn to shed a tear of gratitude when Xander opened the door of his bedroom to reveal the now spectacular, cherished item.

After fixing cupboards and renewing doors Xander ran out of ‘handyman’ projects and began making new pieces.

He was in the shed sanding a broad, naturally shaped piece for the top of a coffee table when a soft touch and a loud female voice sent a jolt of fear through the link to Spike, who was in the house on his ‘milk duty’. Anguish flowed through the link, which should have been expected, yet even after five months, the vampire watched helplessly and utterly unable to traverse the sunny space. He felt the terror personally and watched the female enter the work shed further.

Xander immediately turned off the sander and removed his goggles, but his gaze simply could not be raised to look at the woman in the face as he thanked every deity he knew for the fortunate of having the black eye patch on, (mostly to stop the horrendous pain that implant was still eliciting every time it was hit by too much light).

Kathleen was bursting with good cheer given the lovely, if overly so, “Well Hi!!! I’m lookin’ fer Sam… ?”

It was coming up for two and a half years since Xander had interacted with a woman – other than one or two of the Initiative scientists. He immediately went very red, which Kathleen interpreted as shyness, though for Xander it was pure unadulterated fear and confusion. “Umm… ummm…” He quickly recalled the ‘cover story’, “I’m ummm… ummm…. I’m a friend of Samuel’s from the respite centre? And ummm… ummm… he said I can be here and ummm… oh gahhh…” Xander couldn’t work out his piqued anxiety, and was close to tears, yet felt compelled to keep talking, “I ummm…. Well I’m making stuff and I’ve been fixing all his furniture and I guess you’re a neighbor um… um… [sighs in desperation] Geez sorry!”

A kindly voice cut him off now the noise had ceased, “Hey honey, it’s fine!!! Sammy’s always bringin’ home a stray or two. Mind if I take a look at ya work?” Xander’s confusion turned to embarrassment as the rather portly woman all but pushed past him and began to look around the shed.

“Sure um I’m… it’s not all that good.” He looked up at the wall and noted gratefully, but a little belatedly, that the pentagram had been painted over. The entire space was apparently devoted to the making of fine furniture. One completed table stood in the back corner, ready to be carried into the house and five ‘natural’ table tops were stacked waiting for legs, plus there was the beginnings of a mobile ‘cutting board/central island’ for a kitchen evident near the only window.

“Why this is *gorgeous* work! You funny young thing, there ain’t no way you should be tellin’ fibs about your talent… seems as you are quite the artiste!” She noted the eye patch, the thin frame and the downcast eyes, and drew some assumptions of her own. He was obviously one of those food problem/depression/artist types that Sam had taken under his wing. He was younger than the usual ones that came through Sam’s ‘care for the similarly afflicted’ and decided that there wasn’t anything quite so nice as Kathleen’s pie and her abundant motherly care to put this young one back on track!

“Now if you’re anythin’ like Sam’s past borders, you’re jus’ gonna hafta come meet a few…”

Xander’s arms flew around himself and he began backing off “Noo… I can’t … I’m sorry I can’t…” Spike was almost about to sprint across the sunlit quadrangle when an elderly calm hand found his shoulder. “It’ll be OK son, it’s just Kathleen… our lovely friend Kathleen… s’long as your dear Xander sticks to the story it will be fine…”

Spike thought of all the Xander babble of years gone by and the awkwardness and the covering up of a sharp mind, yet simply wasn’t comforted.

Samuel recognized the panic for what it was and rather than risk a desperate sprint by Spike, Samuel did something he had never ventured before. “Trust me son… trust me on this one… Your friend is gonna be fine… we’ll all be fine!” Spike quickly came to his senses with the smell of pure human blood mixed with a familiar scent. He took the limb with all the reverence it deserved, but instead of drinking as Samuel expected, drips were carefully caught and the wound laved until closed without taking any extra. Samuel looked puzzled at the obviously distressed vampire.

Spike looked up with crystal blue eyes brimming with appreciative tears, “Deeply appreciated mate, but best kept for desperate times… Just those few drops… from a friend ‘n all… gesture means the more than you will ever know…” Spike finished by kissing the already healing wound, then the hand below it. They stood and waited to see what transpired. Finally foot steps were heard heading for the back door. Spike made himself scarce. He took a large pile of basil and mint into the bedroom along with a couple of bowls resigned to sitting and stripping said leaves ready for processing into pesto and mint sauce respectively.

Kathleen had taken her time, but eventually Xander tentatively ushered her into the house with promises of “tea or coffee or …”. Kathleen was utterly intrigued. She had quickly decided that Xander was the classic example of the ‘tortured artist’, sensitive to a fault and terribly fragile. She resolved to take him under her wing… or more importantly his woodwork!

The consequent tea and discussion with Samuel, revealed his intention to host a ‘few such friends’ over his retiring years, something Kathleen had been trying to encourage for some time, she felt gleefully responsible for her lovely new acquaintance. Samuel was renown for inviting rather ‘limited’ or ‘dubious’ types into his home, something that had always bothered his supportive neighbors. But this ‘Alex’ was a whole different character. He looked lost and sad, consistent with a life plagued by mental problems, but also had a passion and obvious artistic talent when it came to wood.

She ordered three tables, for a fixed price, and promised to sell them (and take orders) at the next farmers market. She was also keen to search for a local gallery that might be interested… all for a ‘finder’s fee’, which Samuel happily agreed to.

Shortly after she left, Jonothon hobbled in from the back. His leg was still not quite healed which still was not quite right, but Spike had taken on the role of Sire for the fledge, and since then, he seemed to be much more balanced. In the first weeks of his leg in plaster, they had been forced tie to him down during the sunshine hours after two dream induced suicide attempts also risked his other sunshine allergic compatriot and their hiding place. He apologized but also seemed to fall further into depression. It was then that Spike stepped in. Better fed, he felt it his duty and privilege.

With the blood of a Master in his system, the young fledge quickly regained much of his speech, life memories and general intelligence. The toothless vampire had not been turned as a minion, but the childe had been deprived of his Sire and blood of any type for so long (courtesy of Initiative hosts), that he was seriously compromised until Spike began his regular feedings. He had been a veterinary graduate student when turned, though he did not remember the detail of his training until Spike stepped in.

They discovered that he had been chipped one afternoon, just after Xander’s ribs had been strapped. Jonothon inadvertently fell on his fellow fugitive as he reached for the blood supply and slipped on a slightly wet patch on the kitchen floor. Xander cried out in pain when his chest was struck, but Jonothon had screamed in agony, curled up on the floor and continued to keen for many minutes. Spike knew the signs. He had never seen the younger vampire kill, had assumed it was tooth related, but now they knew. Spike was hoping to bring him back from his ‘broken’ status as his position as ‘father’ to Eddie’s two or possibly three children loomed as a reality.

Jonothon was utterly dedicated to the blonde as surrogate Sire, but enamored and increasingly devoted to his beautiful Eddie. Something both Samuel and Spike encouraged. Regardless of all other ‘attributes’, his animal husbandry and surgeon skills were invaluable to the elderly farmer as the ‘creature of the night’ joyfully assisted with nighttime deliveries of several calves and advised on some of the more complicated techniques. Samuel began buying the ‘higher end’ journals from the web and Jonothon read as he held his ever more pregnant partner, and read… and read...

In month seven of their stay, Eddie, with the help of his beautiful vampire’s surgeon’s skills, delivered three exquisite, tiny blue forms with huge blue eyes. Two girls and a boy. Jonothon cried openly as he kissed his beautiful partner and wrapped each tiny form in a fluffy white towel. The household rejoiced as ‘Willow, Jessie and Samuel the second” joined their number. The children slept in the arms of friends as their exhausted parent recovered under the careful eye of his lover/doctor.

Xander felt strangely jealous as he held the tiny snuggling form. His own hormone treatment had left him teary, physically weaker and with strong sexual feelings for Spike, but no child, and the residual legacy of no body hair and unpredictable libido. But beyond any other effect left over after some eight months since the Initiative, it was his ocular implant that continued to bother.

He often wondered of late..... “Pain”… noun or verb?

Part Ten

Over the previous few months, Xander had been increasingly concerned that his ambiguous sexual status and constant ‘episodes’ with the implant had rendered him unworthy of…. anything… Spike had never failed to reassure or caress, but like Jon’s teeth that seemed impossibly slow to repair, Xander’s continued hormonal imbalance was the cause of serious concern. By month three, Xander’s tiny breasts had all but disappeared, but his body definitely appeared to be cycling hormonally on a monthly basis. He was still missing body hair and his skin was unusually soft to the touch. More worryingly, his morning erection simply did not occur any more. He wondered if he was ‘capable’ any more. Ironically it had been Jonothon who first broached the subject with Spike in month four of their stay, in the context of his own compromised status… and (at that time) impending fatherhood.

“Sire, we have discussed my teeth but may I speak freely with you of another matter.”

At the time, the two vampires were lying on the same bed in the early afternoon, intertwined as had been their habit since Spike ‘adopted’ Jon as his Childe. Their partners were on ‘garden duty’, so this was a couple of hours of quiet time for the vampires. The formal address gave Spike pause. This was something important. He answered accordingly…

“Of course Childe, what is it that troubles you?”

“I believe your friend… um your partner… um consort? I believe that Xander’s hormonal struggles have gone well beyond his injected treatments. If you permit me Sire, I can do a couple of simple tests to prove the same.” Jonothon watched nervously as the blonde fell into game face and began to growl. “They are non-invasive … Oh please Sire… I would never hurt Xander! But Sire… he is being hurt daily… and we need to know why… Please let me try to help… Please Sire, you have done *so* much for Ed… and me… and… just… Please! For Xander…!”

Spike began stroking his adopted Childe’s now thick, shoulder length locks, then ran his fingers along the mere beginnings of white bumps on the violated gums. They were in themselves puzzling. Samuel suggested that there must have been magical intervention for vampire healing not to have replaced them more quickly… but for the Initiative to do that… well, they were breaking their own ‘rules’ if they had any. But it did also beg the question as to whether Xander’s ‘challenged state’ was similarly related.

Jonothon conducted numerous simple and non invasive tests. Xander had been patient and the results confirmed their suspicions. Despite the initial withdrawal symptoms after their escape, something within Xander was still causing him to have extremely high levels of estrogen and low testosterone, more akin to a female system than a human male. Yet he was still able to achieve an erection… with determined physical encouragement. It all made little sense. Eventually, all privy to the results came to the same conclusion. Something had been done or inserted in one of their many trips to the Initiative ‘labs,’ and apparently it was now permanent. Whether it was ‘medical’ or magical in nature could not be established without the aid Samuel’s wiccan contacts. Xander slumped in his chair as that news came to light.

All adult parties agreed, the physical connection with Spike was vital for Xander’s mental well-being and should be encouraged. Spike agreed readily. Xander simply worried that ‘everyone knew’. But in the fifth month of their freedom, kisses and caresses became more… much more… and the brunette honestly could not care that family was aware of their undoubted ‘bed buddy’ status. By then Spike was already able to bring him to the brink of tears, and the beginnings of arousal, with a simple, pointed smile across a room. If they were touching in any way, Xander now found himself ‘rising to the moment’ for his blonde friend. That in itself, came as something of a relief.

It had been a Friday night when the major shift in Xander and Spike’s relationship occurred, after so many months of sharing sleep with the kissing-friend.

The chaise lounge had been dragged in from the bedroom so, the then heavily pregnant, Eddie and Jon could perch in sight of the tiny television, while Sam had his favourite chair, and the other two took the lounge. The film was not Xander’s usual fare, ‘Rozencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, by Tom Stoppard’. Two of the ‘oldies’ in the room were Shakespeare experts. Xander, Jon and Eddie were simply amazed that they followed any of it at all… Xander smiled as his lovely vampire delighted in the complex philosophical banter, rejoiced in the ‘tradgedians’ and preempted the lines of Hamlet, then openly cheered for the game of ‘question tennis’.

Xander's socket insert began to throb around the middle of the film, so he shifted to lie behind Spike and no longer trying to watch the bright screen. The vampire joined him, their heads now sharing an aptly placed cushion. Samuel smiled knowingly and patted Xander on the arm, as he wandered past on the way to making a pot of tea. The blonde in front of the human remained oblivious to the gesture, utterly taken in by the play and mouthing the words from Hamlet that were interwoven into the new text.

Xander smiled to himself, and began to stroke down Spike’s side, then stroked, and stroked…. until his friend began to reflexively purr…. They had played the ‘caress and purr’ game before.

Spike was engrossed in the movie, so Xander snuggled closer to spoon his lovely friend, continuing to caress the pale torso from behind. His hand wandered to rub Spike’s burgeoning erection through the material of his jeans he whispered, “I’d like more of this after…”

Spike’s hardness twitched against the material in the hands of the prospective lover. And as the movie finished, he rolled to face the owner of the hand. “C’mon Pet. Let’s skip the tea, and work with this good and proper.” He cupped Xander’s erection and squeezed, “Then we can explore a few more techniques see if we can’t sort your morning’s out.”

Spike bade their friends goodnight and led him to their sleeping quarters. Xander’s good eye took on the guise of the ‘deer in headlights’ as Spike stripped them both and tugged a tube of lube from a small clothes cupboard. He realized Samuel must have supplied it. The human shook a little and worried that his performance might not be ‘up to scratch’, but as their coupling progressed in earnest, Xander relaxed. He was the partner to a considerate and passionate lover, and there was no doubt that Spike also wanted this, wanted Xander! Xander was stunned that the Master Vampire wasn’t repelled by him, by his strangely effeminate skin and softer body, by his missing eye and precarious emotions. After all, Spike was perfect: hard body, now back, almost to ‘fighting weight’; immaculate skin; and exquisite unmarred face. Xander was utterly enamored by the beautiful blonde Master, now stretched full length against him, yet Spike had no doubts and matched his passion.

The consistent evidence of Xander’s arousal following their first encounter was a relief; his willingness to experiment with his newfound sexuality enthusiastic; and his deepening love for his partner openly acknowledged. Spike rejoiced in the downy soft skin and rather slim, rounded lines of his male partner. His own preferences ran to both genders, so there was not ever a question of the attractiveness of his lovely brunette. Xander’s hormonal situation saw him alternating between lusting after Spike and needing a ‘reassuring shag’. Regardless, their coupling was once or twice… or (in bad times), more per day. Jon and Eddie learned to ‘ride the passion wave’ with them… but as Eddie came close to delivery and their own lovemaking slowed, they generally opted for a quiet evening stroll, or sat on the ‘Xander built’ porch seat until the enthusiastic couple finished their activities.

Eddie’s babies changed all their lives, as the family rallied to care for the tiny individuals. Xander found himself treating them as though he had carried them to term himself, and finally confided in Spike that he really didn’t mind having a body that thought it was part woman, if it meant that one day he might indeed have their children. Spike had snorted at the notion of his lover getting ‘knocked up’, but was quietly pleased that Xander was more comfortable in his own skin, and finally talking about his hopes and feelings. Their lovemaking matured over the next few months and became less desperate, as Xander fully accepted his status. Babies were unlikely though perhaps not out of the question; he was the lover/mate of a Master Vampire; he was hormonally at least, female; he loved Spike and was loved back; he had an odd version of family around him; and for the first time in, forever, he felt content.

However, Xander’s headaches had continued, made worse by the ocular implant sparking painfully at increasingly shorter intervals. Thought compared with Samuel’s ever more frequent and more painful visions, Xander felt fortunate. The problem was that there were sharp jolts of electricity and blinding sparks of white without context, they remained intermittent and fairly short lived. The last seven months of transmissions/impulses from his implant had contained no real images, just electrical jolts, and pain, and increasingly a mental confusion as his brain was apparently scrambled from the ocular centre out. The only blessing was that it was extremely unlikely that there were any outgoing signals but if so they would constitute a jumble of interrupted colors and obscured, out of focused images, similar to those sent by a damaged unit, free of a functional body.

Spike and Xander had their own suspicions about the implant being out of operation but still worried in their first days with Samuel. Their host had tested for radio signals and various other frequencies as Xander stared painfully into a lamp, then into the dark. The implant was most definitely damaged, therefore they were indeed somewhat luckily. It simply provided pain without transmitting a signal. Xander covered the instrument with a patch almost permanently, and bore the hurt stoically, but ultimately… they knew they would have to get it out… just as they all knew, Jonothon’s chip had to go.

It was a Sunday, toward the end of month three of the triplet’s lives. Jonothon and Spike were inside tending to Samuel, who was lying on the lounge with a damp towel on his head, a sports bottle of water beside him, and a bottle of painkillers ready and waiting. Soft classical music played in the background, Spike smiled as soft strains of the various arias from the Magic Flute and Madam Butterfly permeated the tiny home. Spike tended to their host yet again. The visions had been getting closer together all month and each time more devastating in their content.

After nearly ten months of liberal intervention bringing some relief to the persecuted demon community (invoked following a leak to the public detailing some the activities at the bombed Initiative ‘medical centre), the Initiative were apparently ‘ramping up’ again. It was an election year. Things were ‘not so positive’ economically, so the threat of ‘the other’ was an easy agenda, and the politicians demanded Initiative become ‘tougher’, detailing the draconian measures they were prepared to back to keep ‘people safe from the monsters’. The members of the farm’s little ‘blended’ family all felt for Samuel. They gave him frequent hugs to try to compensate for the horrid images he continued to witness… but knew it would never be enough.

The afternoon had involved the three little folks being fed by loving parents and ‘uncles’, before Xander and Eddie took the tiny people into the sun. The miraculous little forms crawled around on a broad picnic rug next to the gardens while ‘Da’ and ‘Unca’ tended the rows of produce. The cooing and squeaks from the three little forms as they happily patted, cuddled and sucked each other (and various soft toys) were the sounds of pure innocent joy. Both Xan and Eddie listened and knew it… the heartfelt love and devotion, so strong that made the chest hurt, and when they looked up to catch each others’ eye, a happy tear or two fell, even as leaves were picked and the three little figures enjoyed their afternoon under the cover of a pitched mosquito net … The two adults occasionally wandered over to blow ‘raspberries’ on tummies, and giving attention to each of the little ones in turn. They were picking the latest abundant crop of rocket lettuce ready for market in the morning.

The little figures squirmed and responded to the intermittent attention of family… and…. all was well, until late in the afternoon... Xander fell to the ground in agony as he advanced on the small forms for another round of playtime. Fortunately he was several body lengths away from the helpless little people as he crashed to the ground. His ocular implant began to fire again and again. Eddie watched his lovely friend collapse and gave himself an internal kick for missing the signs. He had noticed twinge, the wince, the unnatural paling and stoic silence a few times during the afternoon. It all meant pain, but this did seem different, he grasped his friend’s hand hard knowing the agony Jonothon’s chip had caused, but had no other real comfort to offer.

Inside the house, Samuel all but passed out with the onslaught of a terrifying vision; Jonothon fell to the ground screaming as his chip fired for no apparent reason; and Spike’s legs buckled when the pain flowing across his blood link with Xander hit him full force. This was no ordinary episode…

Samuel curled into a fetal position until Spike reached over and took his head into his cool lap for the third time that day. This time he also fed him a little of his own Master Vampire blood to their benefactor, mixing it into his drink bottle water. A teary-eyed Jonothon accepted a wrist from his Sire. While Eddie helped an extremely shaken Xander into the house, kissed Jonothon, then returned to the babies and his task. Xander replaced Jon on the wrist, and shed a tear as he took the precious blood. Spike continued to stroke the sweaty forehead of a quietly sobbing Samuel with his free hand.

Eventually Eddie came inside with the children, all happily riding an enormous basket of rocket, the greenery ready to be pushed into plastic bags for market as usual. Xander stood, and moved to bring in the other two boxes inside while Eddie handed the now weary little figures to Spike, Jon and Sam, then busied himself fixing the children's afternoon bottles.

Finally with babies all suckling happily, the family surrounded Samuel. He fixed them, one by one, with a desperate gaze and shared his latest vision with his dear friends… and most definitely *his* family.

Along with the ‘solution to the Demon Problem’ (Spike unable to quell thoughts of the ‘Final Solution’ - The Third Reich - circa 1942), it was evident that the Initiative had been developing a way of sending messages to any of their devices, and the associated capability to destroy any of the Institute developed implants from a distance.

According to Samuel’s visions, Jonothon and Xander’s implants were prototypes, since then, many non-violent demons had been chipped, implanted with monitors, and released on ‘limited home detention’ terms. In the light of the latest political swing, the Initiative was planning to ‘correct that error’. An application had been put to the Senate to use the remote destruction capability and ‘neutralize these threats to society’. Samuel estimated they had three weeks to a month, before the legislation was passed and implemented, all fast tracked to coincide with the last Senate sitting before the election.

As they settled for the night, the mood was somber. If they could not remove Jon’s chip and Xander’s implant, the two would likely die or be permanently brain damaged. They *had* to get help.

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