Under the Forbidden Sun
Part 7 – Revenge
When Willow and Giles arrived at Xander and Spike’s apartment complex, both experienced an unsettling feeling. They hurried up to the apartment and were about to knock when they noticed a note taped to the door. Giles pulled it down and read it aloud.
‘Guys –
We’ve left. Can’t
tell you where, but we’re going to go meet my real family. We’ll be back in a couple of days.
Xander’
“Wow, that note is totally unXander-like,” said Willow, a little worried. “Where do you think they went?”
“I don’t know,” came Giles’ response. “It is rather odd that they would leave in the middle of a crisis like this. Especially Xander, he’s very conscious of his…”
“Slayage and Zeppo donut skills?” supplied Willow, a bit mischievously.
“I was going to say duties.” Giles then reminded Willow of something, “Besides he hasn’t gotten donuts since that unfortunate incident with the evil donut zombies.”
She shuddered, “Right.”
“Well, this is a dead end. I suppose we’d better get back to the others.”
“Xander gave me a spare to the apartment. We can go in and see if we can find anything,” said Willow, pulling out a key.
“I don’t think we should enter their home without permission,” said Giles reprovingly.
“Oh, come on, Giles, Xander gave me the key for emergencies. Isn’t this an emergency?” Willow unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Are you going to stay in the hall?”
Giles huffed for a second before entered the apartment. The two walked into the living area. “Where would he keep letters?” asked Giles as Willow walked over to the coffee table.
“Bedroom, I think.” She paused for a minute, then picked something up. “Giles. What’s this?” She held it out for the Watcher to look at.
He studied the strange object for a minute, noting the wires, then realized what it must be. “Willow, I believe this is Spike’s chip.”
“His chip?” she asked, a quiver in her voice. “The chip that keeps him from eating all of us? That is so not of the good.”
“I agree,” said Giles, returning the microchip to the coffee table.
Willow walked into the bedroom, followed by Giles. “Okay, letters. If I were Xander, where would I keep letters?” she asked, more to herself than to Giles. She stepped over to one of the bedside tables and pulled a drawer open. “Lube, lube, I don’t want to know, lube. Okay, nothing in this drawer.” She switched to the next one. “More lube, gods, how much lube do they really need?”
Giles made a strangled noise and Willow giggled. “Sorry, Giles. Too much information?”
“Quite,” he said. “I don’t think we need a running commentary on the contents of the drawers.”
Willow pulled something out of the drawer and held it up for Giles, “What’re these?”
Giles choked and turned bright red, “You don’t need to know.”
“Why? It’s not like they’re nipple clamps or…” she watched his expression. “Oh, okay. I’ll just put those back now.” Willow opened the third drawer and gasped.
“If it’s anything resembling a phallus, trust me when I say I don’t wish to know,” said Giles empathetically.
“No, it’s… Giles! I so didn’t ever want to hear something like that come out of your mouth,” said Willow, turning as red as her hair. She tried to shake off her embarrassment. “I found some letters.”
She quickly checked the return addresses, then handed them to Giles shakily. “These are all from Oz. But I can’t look.”
Giles scanned the return addresses and checked the postmarks, then remarked, “It looks like they were all sent from different places. But it’s a bit doubtful that Oz could be here. This last one is postmarked a week ago and it’s from Alaska. So unless Oz flew in from Anchorage…”
“It’s not him. Thank the goddess, it’s not Oz,” said Willow, relieved. “We’d better get back to the others.”
Giles followed the redhead out of the apartment, but he didn’t share her relief. He knew that there was still a chance that Oz was the werewolf, but he couldn’t kill the witch’s hopes and belief that Oz couldn’t be in Sunnydale.
“Buffy, are you sure you don’t want to come downstairs?” asked Wesley. He was tired of running up and down the stairs between Buffy and Doyle, but he couldn’t get either of the two to move.
Buffy didn’t even to turn to look at Wesley. Completely ignoring Wesley, she continued to stare at the wall.
Finally Wesley gave up. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” When Buffy gave no signs that she heard him, Wesley turned and headed back downstairs.
When Wesley returned to the kitchen, he noticed Doyle was clutching his left ear, as though he were in pain. “Doyle, are you alright?” he asked.
“Don’t,” Doyle seemed completely unaware of Wesley as the volume of his voice steadily increasing until he was shouting. “Stay away. You can’t have them. Leave us alone! We’ve done nothing to you!”
While watching the rant nervously, Wesley noticed a strange looking earring in Doyle’s left ear. The ear that appeared to be causing Doyle’s pain, but Wesley wondered if it wasn’t the earring inflicting the agony. The earring was very intriguing, a dark silver Celtic cross hanging from a hoop that ran through the cartilage near the top of the ear.
“Let them come back before it’s too late!”
Doyle fell silent for a minute, and Wesley could barely make out a whispering voice that sent chills creeping through him. “It is too late, as you well know. Soon the savior will be tainted. With him comes the other. And I have just the thing to topple the dark saint. Once I’ve made him one of mine, nothing will stop me.” The voice stopped and Doyle sighed with visible relief and released his ear.
“So, Watcher, you listened in?” the voice said vehenemently before changing to a pleased chuckle. “Yes, of course you did. You live up to your training very well. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I have a present for you, Watcher, and Doyle as well.”
A shimmering portal opened next to Wesley, and two sets of arms pulled him into it. He yelled in denial and struggled, but was unable to escape. The arms yanked him in and the portal dissipated.
Doyle’s gaze locked onto the space Wesley had been occupying, for a ghost image of the one who owned him now stood there. “He’s gone now, Doyle. You can have your vampire back, for a little while anyway!” The image and its eerie mocking laugh dissipated slowly.
“Wake up, luv. We’re here,” Spike gently shook Xander, trying to awaken the boy without drastic measures.
“Nooo, sleep. Sleep good, awake bad,” muttered Xander as he snuggled up to the slightly agitated vampire.
“Bolloxs,” Spike said, before pushing Xander away. “We can sleep later, pet. I’m sure they’ll give us a bed.” No response. “Food, Xan, I’ve got Twinkies.” Spike crinkled the cellophane enticingly, but Xander still didn’t wake up. “No sex for you, then.”
“What? I’m awake!” Xander shot up instantly, while Spike snickered. “Did you say Twinkies?”
“I’m disappointed, luv. There will still be no sex for you,” said Spike as Xander ripped the pack of Twinkies open and shoved one into his mouth.
“Buh ah wuv ough,” said Xander through his mouthful of sugary goodness.
“Sorry, luv. I still don’t speak Twinkinese,” smirked Spike, noticing a bit of the crème filling had taken up residence on Xander’s lips.
Xander swallowed, and clarified, “But I love you, and you look damn sexy right now.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, pet,” said Spike, pulling Xander close and sucking the crème filling from his lips.
“Ahem,” came a female voice. Jericho had opened the door and was looking at the two, “There’ll be time for that later, boys. Right now we have an appearance to make.”
Wesley turned in a circle, studying the cell he had been placed in. It was completely nondescript, painted in a strange grey-green. The room held nothing at all except Wesley and the door through which he’d been thrust. He walked over to the door, and looked out through the glass-like substance that formed the door. And saw only an empty corridor, not even any other doors. Sighing, he settled into one of the far corners to wait for something to happen.
He wasn’t to be disappointed, for only a few minutes later, a demon materialized into the room. Wesley studied the demon, calmly noting its resemblance to Jericho. It had the same finely sculpted features the girl had. The main differences were the colors of hair and eyes, and that the demon before him was male and very muscular.
“Welcome,” said the demon with an oddly accented deep voice. “It’s wonderful to have you here.”
“Where exactly am I?” asked Wesley, looking into the orange-eyed demon’s gaze. He felt suddenly strange, as though he was sinking into an ocean filled with dancing orange flames.
Joholen turned his gaze from the mortal, releasing him from the pull of the depths. “Why, you are in the Seventh Pit of Hell. Where did you think you were?” Joholen asked, amused.
“I don’t know,” Wesley said. “Why am I here?”
“Because Doyle wished for you to be gone, and Jericho and I wanted him to be happy.” Upon seeing the look on Wesley’s face, Joholen clarified, “You see, we had to keep Doyle here until it was time to return him. And I had a little fun while he was enjoying my ‘hospitality.’ So this was a way to make up for a bit of that.”
Joholen brushed several strands of hair out of his face, and Wesley was unwillingly captivated. He stared at the crimson hair that fell to midway down the demon’s back. Wesley wondered if it was soft and had stepped forward and started to reach out and touch the hair before he caught himself and pulled his hand back.
When Joholen noticed the rogue demon-hunter’s aborted movement, he smirked, which drew Wesley’s attention to the demon’s mouth. Causing the Englishman to want to trace the outline of the silvery-red lips with his tongue. Wesley shook himself and angrily demanded, “What have you done to me? Make it stop this instant.”
“Me?” asked Joholen, feigning surprise and ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know very well what I’m referring to. The indecent thoughts. Make. Them. Stop,” Wesley said, adding authority to the last three words.
“I’ve done nothing to you, Mr. Windham-Pryce. Except locked you in a room without a bed, but,” Joholen’s eyes flashed and his next words were breathy and heavily laced with sexual tension, “I’m sure we can remedy that. If you wish.”
“I want nothing to do with you. Go away,” Wesley said firmly, though he wanted nothing more than the throw himself at the feet of the exotic demon.
Joholen sighed, “If that’s what you want. I’ll be back later, to see if you change your mind.” He then disappeared from the room.
Wesley leaned against the nearest wall and slid down it dejectedly. He cradled his head in his hands and began a quiet mantra, “Remember Angel. Angel needs your help. You love Angel; you want Angel. Remember Angel…”
Joholen watched from outside the door as the Watcher tried to convince himself he still wanted the souled vampire. He chuckled as he considered this. The demon-hunter wanted him; there was no doubt about that. And he hadn’t even had to do anything. It looked as though Wesley had been using Angel without even realizing it. Joholen laughed again and looked forward to corrupting the demon-hunter.
Xander stood nervously, waiting for someone to answer the door. As it began to open, he leaned into Spike, taking comfort in the vampire’s presence. Jericho stood off to the side, watching the men with a small smile.
“Hello,” came from the doorway. Surprised eyes turned to look at the teen at the door. “How can I help… Oh! Aunt Jericho, we’ve been expecting you. Come on in.”
Jericho threw a dazzling smile at the stunned pair, then followed the handsome auburn-haired boy into the mansion. Spike and Xander quickly fell in step behind her.
“How had you been?” the boy asked Jericho.
“Wonderful, Malachi. How’ve you been doing? Seen your father lately?”
“Yeah,” smiled Malachi, “he was here a few days ago.”
“Good, I’m glad he’s keeping up his visits.”
The young man gestured for the three to step into a room. “You can wait in here. Grandfather will be down in a moment.” Then the boy was gone.
“Jericho?” asked Xander, once they were all seated. “I thought Grogthk demons all had dark hair. “That kid had red hair.”
“Well, you know that Grogthk demons don’t always mate inside their species, right?” Spike and Xander nodded. “Well, Malachi is my brother’s son. The genes in certain mixed relations don’t always keep to the Grogthk genes. Even though, they are all dominant traits, with some demons, their genetic traits are even more dominant than the Grogthk genes.”
“Oh,” came Xander’s reply. “What kinds of demons does that happen with?”
“Was that a veiled attempt to find out what I am?” grinned Jericho.
“Um,” said Xander sheepishly.
“It’s okay, Xander. I’ll tell you what I am.” She looked at Spike to see his reaction to that revelation. He tensed up a bit and grabbed Xander’s hand. “I am a Saveric demon.”
Xander just looked at her for a minute before the words registered. “Saveric? As in ‘We rule Hell, we are the Gods of torture and anguish, we rule over all demons, there are no written descriptions of us anywhere’ Saveric demons?”
“Yep. I rule the Nineth Pit of Hell,” she said, chuckling at Xander’s flabbergasted expression. “At least, for right now.”
He opened and closed his mouth several times, as though trying to decide what to say.
“Bloody hell, mate. Snap out of it,” Spike snapped his fingers next to Xander’s ear. “We’ve got bloody company.
“Welcome, I am Mordecai Chyr-Severin,” said the demon. He wore a stylish suit and his curly black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He shook hands with everyone, stopping at Xander. “I understand you’re looking for your roots. I hope I can help you find your clans.”
Xander stared at the man who looked so much like the picture of Jeremy. “Yes, sir,” he said, trying to stay calm. “Family is very important to me.”
That seemed to be the correct response, because Mordecai released Xander’s hand and sat in a chair across from the couch he and Spike were perched on. “Now, I understand this fine vampire here is your lover.”
“Ye-yes, he is,” stammered Xander nervously. “The love of my life.”
“I am not a fine vampire,” snarled Spike as he morphed into game-face, severely offended. “I am an evil, vicious monster. You should beware of me.”
“Spike!” hissed Xander.
“No, no. It is quite all right. Don’t worry. I merely meant you must be special to have gained the trust and love of a Grogthk,” soothed Mordecai.
“I bloody well am,” said Spike, relaxing a bit and slipping out back into his human guise.
“Now,” Mordecai smoothly changed the subject, “I understand you might be pregnant, Xander. I have my finest physician standing by, if you’d like to get that over with.” Xander nodded shakily. “Good, after that you’ll be shown to your rooms and then dinner will be served.”
Buffy was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking. ‘Is there anything left for me?’ she thought, tears welling up. Her mother had been gone for a while, and now Riley and Dawn were gone. Riley had just proposed and she was going to tell him yes after they had gotten off patrol. But he didn’t come home with her that night. And Dawn: Dawn who had so much ahead of her. With no threat of being a Slayer hanging over her head, Dawn had seemed destined for great things. Instead she died, drained in a cemetery miles from where Buffy had been at the time. Alone and scared, and now Buffy was feeling the same.
Yes, she had Giles, and the others, but she had no family and no boyfriend to hold her when she needed it, when the slaying got to be too much. And that terrified her more than she cared to admit. She knew she was letting the others down by her apparent withdrawl from reality, but they didn’t really need her. They could do so well on their own.
With an inaudible sigh, she reached under her pillow and pulled out a stake. The one she kept there at all times, because the possibility of Spike’s chip burning out and the recurrence of Angelus to think about. The one she kept razor sharp. Carefully, she raised it to her right wrist, and placing it firmly against the skin, she drew the stake down hard. It left a fiery line of rapidly gushing blood. Shakily, she transferred it to her right hand and repeated the action on her left wrist. Then Buffy dropped the stake, pulled the blanket up, and closed her eyes.
Hopefully for the last time.
“I’m sorry. I love you all so much. Goodbye…”
Wesley paced slowly through his cell. He’d been locked in for about three hours now. The monotony of the room was starting to get to him, and he wondered if this was part of the torture.
“Is it working?” came a voice behind him.
Wesley spun and stared at Joholen, realizing he must’ve said that out loud. “Does it matter?” he asked, a bit angrily.
“Now, now, there’s no reason to get upset.” Joholen smiled at the mortal. “Did you have a chance to think about my offer?”
“I don’t need a bed,” said Wesley defiantly. “Especially not one with you in it.”
“I’m hurt, Wesley. Very hurt,” Joholen assumed an air of sorrow. “I thought you wanted me.”
“No, I don’t,” came Wesley’s emphathetic response.
“This isn’t because of Angel, is it? Because you don’t really love him, you know.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Wesley incredulously.
“Because I can see into your mind. You’ve been using the vampire so that you won’t be alone. You even deluded yourself into thinking you loved him,” said Joholen smugly.
“You lie,” said Wesley, but not with as much conviction as before.
“Sometimes,” said the demon coyly. “But not all the time. And I wouldn’t lie about something like this. It’s too important.”
Wesley snorted, not sure if he should trust the demon or not.
“Don’t trust me, Wes,” said Joholen. “Never trust me. But you can love me.”
“How can there be love without trust?” asked Wesley.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” Joholen replied cryptically before dissipating.
Giles and Willow met up with Angel and Gunn outside Giles’ house.
“Find anything?” asked Gunn.
“Yep, letters that put Oz in Anchorage a week ago,” said Willow as they walked into the house.
Once they were inside, Angel noticed something. “I smell blood.”
“Blood?” said Giles, hurrying into the kitchen. Doyle sat at the table, tracing random patterns on it with a permanent marker. “Doyle, where’s Wesley?”
“Gone,” came the reply.
“The smells coming from upstairs,” said Angel as he ran up the stairs, followed by the others, excluding Doyle.
They went straight to where Buffy was, and at first didn’t notice anything amiss. But Angel could smell the blood and went right to the bed and pulled the covers away from the prone Slayer. She lay in a puddle of blood that was even now drying.
“She’s not dead, yet,” said Angel. “But if we don’t do something soon, she will be.”
Giles called an ambulance, and they all waited, praying that Buffy would live.
Spike and Xander were waiting nervously for the doctor to tell them the results of the tests. They both jumped up when the doctor reentered the room.
“Well?” asked Spike impatiently.
“Please, sir, have a seat and I will gladly tell you what’s going on,” said the doctor, smiling reassuringly at the nervous vampire. Spike and Xander sat back down. “Well, I’m going to have to start with congratulations, gentlemen. You’re going to be daddies.”
“I… I really am pregnant?” asked Xander absolutely astounded. Spike grabbed his hand to help steady his nerves.
“Yes, you’re about two months along. But that’s not the really good news,” said the doctor.
“There’s more?” asked Spike and Xander in unison.
The doctor laughed, “Yes, you’re having twins.”
Thud! “Spike!” cried Xander, slipping to the floor next to Spike. “You broke him!”
“No, he’s just had a bit of a shock. He’ll be fine,” said the doctor moving to help Xander revive the fallen vampire.
“Why does everyone always break my boyfriend?” asked Xander, just before Spike came to.
“Bloody hell! What happened?” asked Spike.
Xander giggled, “You fainted.”
“Well ta very much,” he said to the giggling boy at his side.
“Now,” said the doctor, after everyone had returned to their chairs, “is there any way you can come here for regular check ups?”
“No, we live in California,” said Xander.
“Are you anywhere near LA?” When Xander nodded, the doctor smiled, “Good! My brother’s a doctor there. I can give you his card and he can take care of everything.”
A knock came at the door. “Come in.”
“Steven, sorry,” said Malachi. “Grandfather said I should show them to their room now.”
“Here’s Nick’s card. Just tell him I sent you. He’ll take good care of you,” said Steven, showing them to the door.
While they waited for the ambulance, Giles returned to the kitchen. “Doyle, what did you mean when you said Wesley was gone?”
“Arms took him. He’s in Hell with Joholen,” said the half-demon, shredding a napkin.
“Why was he taken?”
“As a gift. To help me and to help him,” came the cryptic response. Doyle started laying out the scraps of napkin out on the table.
Giles stared at the pattern that was emerging, formed by marker lines and the pieces of napkin. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Angel!” Giles called into the other room. “Please come in here.”
“What is it?” asked Angel, as he wearily entered the kitchen.
“Look at the table.”
Angel looked, staring at the odd design covering the table. “It’s a message. In Gaelic.”
“What does it say?” asked Giles. Doyle continued to place the scraps, ignoring the two men.
“I can’t tell yet. It’s not finished.” Gunn hollered from the other room. “The ambulance is here,” said Angel. “Take Gunn with you, I’m going to stay here with Doyle.”
“You said you wished to see us alone?” said Mordecai, entering the room. Three more Grogthk demons followed him. Mordecai gestured to the other black haired man. “This James, my husband.”
“I am Jared Tor-gethin,” said one of the brown haired men.
“And I am Tyler,” said the third unknown, sweeping his hair out of his face. Eyes remarkably like Xander’s twinkled at the men seated on the couch.
“I am pleased to meet you,” said Jared. “But I am a bit concerned about why you wished to see us.”
“Well,” said Xander, as Jericho secured the door. “I asked to see you because of who I am.”
“Jericho said you were searching for your roots…” began Tyler.
“Yes, but she failed to mention that I already knew who my parents were,” said Xander. “My birth name is Xander Jeret Chyr-gethin.” He sat back, waiting for his words to sink in.
“You’re Jeremy and Ken’s missing son, aren’t you?” asked James.
“Yes. I only just recently found out that I was not human, and that my parents had been killed by you four,” said Xander smoothly.
“Why are you here, then?” asked Mordecai.
Xander simply said, “Revenge.”
When Xander left the room with Spike and Jericho, he had four locks of hair tucked into one of his pockets. Mementos taken from the severed heads of his grandparents.
Spike and Xander climbed into the backseat of Jericho’s Thunderbird, tired and ready to go home. When Jericho came down to the car, she had Malachi with her.
“He’s coming with us. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, as they drove away from the mansion.
Angel read and reread the words before him, willing them to say something different. He sighed, knowing that they were going to stay the same.
‘Lost and found twice before, the dark savior will again
fall to the devils
Unless the one already fallen is restored to the regal
Hell.
Coming together, the dark saint and the fallen one set in
motion
That which was written in the blood of the saved souls.’
“Doyle?” asked Angel. Doyle looked directly into his eyes, causing the vampire to squirm uncomfortably. He did not like to see the pain that was evident in those green orbs. “Can you read this? Do you know what it means?”
“How long did you wait?”
“What?” asked Angel, confused.
“How long did you wait after I was gone before you fucked Wesley?” asked Doyle, locking Angel’s eyes with his.
“Does it matter? We’ve got more important things to do!”
“I saw, Angel. I saw every single time, over and over again.”
Angel tried to look away from the pained eyes, but couldn’t.
“How long did you wait?”
“A week after I met Wesley,” said Angel.
“Why?”
“I couldn’t take the pain. I had found a way to stop from losing my soul when I had sex, but you died before I could have the spell performed.”
“I didn’t die.” The words were soft, but they still cut fiery paths into Angel’s soul.
“I didn’t know. You were gone and I was alone! What else was I supposed to do? I didn’t, couldn’t love him. Couldn’t lie and say I did, either.”
Angel felt his heart break as Doyle turned his gaze away. “I’m here now.”
Moving over to where the half-demon stood, Angel pulled him into his arms, “Yes, you are.” Doyle met Angel’s eyes again and shuddered as Angel lowered his head and their lips met.
“How’s your new toy?”
“Stubborn, but I like that. Makes it more fun. Is everything ready?”
“Yes, the key has become tainted by the blood of his ancestors. And the dark saint is about to take his fall.”
“Ah, see, he’s playing with one of my toys now.”
“My toy! You were only borrowing him.”
“Of course, of course. I’m sorry.”
“I know. Once we return, I want you to meet us there.”
“Did you…”
“Yes, Malachi is with me. You can set your chosen on them now.”
“Wonderful.”
“I thought so.”
“You have all of your chosen now?”
“If the final one has arrived, then yes. The five are gathered and ready with the dark saint’s fall.”