DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Paramount Studios, Inc
and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are
copyright (c) 2006 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Out of Control
Slayer Turned #3
by Djinn
The light in the basement
apartment's little window burned low, and Emma eyed it from the street, feeling
strangely unwilling to go inside. She'd
been hunting all night--the need for blood was not the thing calling her away.
She sighed, impatience
filling her. She was the psychologist;
she should be able to figure out whatever was bothering her.
Christine and Jim were no
doubt inside. They would welcome her,
and she could lose herself in their strong arms and questing mouths. There was no reason not to go in.
Except... She turned around, scanning the darkness. Watcher training coupled with vampire senses
told her that something was out there.
Something dangerous. She slipped
into the shadows and climbed to the roof to get a better view. Nothing unusual, just the normal passersby, people
socializing or hurrying home from Starfleet or--
Starfleet. That officer who wasn't hurrying. An officer who was Vulcan and stiffer than
any Vulcan she'd ever seen. The way a
Vulcan might look if he'd just spent a great deal of time at Gol.
She hopped down, landing
heavily but feeling no pain, nothing but the exhilaration of her own strength
as her feet hit the pavement. Had she
wanted this? Had she set up her slayer? Made Christine take the decision away and
turn her so that Emma could have what she wanted--to go on living. Without pain.
And with Christine?
After what had happened with
Laura and David, Emma knew she'd closed down, kept her heart safe from any
kinds of entanglements. Kevin had known
it, too. Maybe he'd sent her to
Christine because he'd known any slayer who could anger him as much as
Christine did, might find a way to reach Emma, too?
And Christine had reached
her. And now she was doing more. Although, it was best not to overanalyze her
relationship with Christine and Jim.
Emma circled around, coming
up behind Spock. "Excuse me?"
She put on her best brogue.
He whirled. Damn--she'd moved too quietly. He was a Vulcan; he could possibly hear as
well as she could. No normal heavy-worlder
would have stepped as lightly as she just had.
No normal Earther, either.
Spock looked like he was
reaching for something, and Emma had a feeling she knew what it was. Pointy.
Made of wood. "Which one of
them are you looking for?" she asked.
"Or is it both?"
He stopped his movement,
studied her with a detachment that left her--a creature of the night--feeling
exposed.
"Who are you?" His voice was raspy, as if he hadn't used it
in a while.
She pondered his question. Who was she?
A watcher? A counselor? A vampire?
She settled for: "A friend of theirs."
"In the past, they did
not have vampires as friends."
"Unless you count
Spike," she said softly, and saw his detachment fade and give way to
something darker. So Gol hadn't purged
him of _every_ emotion, apparently.
They stood staring at each
other, and she decided to let him make the next move. She'd never tried to outwait a Vulcan; his
next move was forever in coming.
Finally, he said, "I must speak with Admiral Kirk."
"Why?"
"My reasons are none of
your concern."
She thought of how Jim had
made love to her a few hours ago, while Christine smiled lazily from the other
side of the bed. "You're
wrong. They are very much my
concern." She met his gaze frankly,
wondering what, if anything, he could read in her words.
If anything he saw bothered
him, he gave no sign. "I must see
him immediately." He looked toward
their apartment. "Information on
this place was surprisingly easy to come by once I found the right
people." He put a spin on the word
that told her he'd been querying things that weren't technically people. "You three are not popular." He raised an eyebrow, the icy detachment back
in place.
"You knew I was with
them?" He'd been playing with
her?
"I know what the three
of you are, as well."
She didn't know if he meant
lovers or vampires. She didn't ask him
to clarify.
He turned from her, started
to walk toward their apartment, and she caught up with him in two steps, gripping
his arm tightly.
"I'll get them."
"I will go
inside." He pulled out of her
grip. Easily.
"No."
Spock began to move again, so
she grabbed him by the collar and sleeve, and heaved him down the street as she
took off toward the apartment.
"Don't be naked," she muttered as she flung open the door.
They weren't naked, and they
were on their feet fast and headed toward her.
"Emma?" Christine
said. "What is it?" She stopped dead; Jim did, too, looking just
as stunned.
"Fascinating,"
Spock said, his voice loaded with judgment all the more annoying for his lack
of emotion.
"He wants to speak with
you, Jim." Emma kept her voice as emotionless
as Spock's. Two could play this
goddamned game.
Christine didn't move, seemed
to be keeping Jim behind her. Emma remembered
the fight Christine had described, how she'd had to stop Spock from staking
Spike.
Jim put a gentle hand on
Christine's shoulder--a move both territorial and practical--and eased her
aside. "Let's see what my good
friend wants, shall we, darling?"
Emma felt a pang. She wasn't in love with Jim, but it hurt to
hear him call Christine that. And it
shouldn't hurt. She'd known they were in
love when they'd pulled her into their passion.
But she didn't know what she was to them now. A love, too?
A convenience? A little spice on
the side? A burden?
And why did it also hurt
that, while they were very busy trying to shield each other from Spock, neither
one seemed terribly concerned with shielding her.
Then again, why should they
be? Spock didn't know her--didn't hate
her. And, looking at the ice in the
Vulcan's eyes, Emma was heartily glad of that.
Of course, he'd no doubt transfer his enmity to her soon enough. If only for tossing him onto the pavement.
Jim moved closer to Spock, a
strange smile on his face. Emma decided
it was a mixture of hurt and some degree of true happiness at seeing his
friend. He hadn't talked about Spock to
her; she'd learned what she knew of their relationship from Christine.
"Admiral
Kirk." Spock took a step back.
"Retreat, Spock? We've only just started this little
reunion."
Spock did not reply, but also
did not step back again as Jim moved forward.
"I wish I could say you
were looking well, Spock. But you seem a
little off."
"As you seem paler than
I remember, Admiral."
Something flashed on Jim's
face; Emma thought it was pain.
"You used to call me
Jim."
"You were human
then."
"And so were you. Half, as I recall."
Christine stood silently,
watching the two of them with a look that seemed to bespeak a guilty
conscience--Emma supposed that wasn't out of line. If Christine hadn't run from them after the
Gotterdammerung, none of this would probably have happened.
But Christine had run, and it
had happened. This was what life
was. Or un-life, anyway.
"Did you come just to
spar?" Emma asked, stepping forward, joining the group.
"I came to warn the
Admiral of something--something I thought he would have the means to help me
study."
"The Presence?" Jim
asked.
Emma looked at Christine, who
shrugged.
"You have sensed it, too?"
Spock asked.
"Big. Purposeful.
Inhuman. Yes, I've sensed
it."
"And you have made
Starfleet Command aware of it."
Jim looked a little
guilty. "That hasn't been my
priority, no."
"And learning which
blood type you prefer was?" Spock's
icy veneer cracked; the sarcasm seemed to come from somewhere deep within him.
"A-Positive is my
favorite." Jim crossed his arms
over his chest. "You're the
psychic; you tell Command about the big bad."
"I am not in favor with those
in a position to listen."
"And you think I
am?" But Jim looked thoughtful,
and Emma remembered the encounter he'd had with the werewolf who worked for
Nogura.
Spock shook his head. "Does the possibility of a new
intelligence--an intelligence so vast it can call across the galaxy--not
interest you?"
"What do you expect me
to do about it, Spock? Last time I
checked, Starfleet worked during daylight hours, too. Besides which, I don't have a ship, nor a
chance of getting one. So why come to me?"
"I did not know what you
had become."
"How did you find
out?" Christine asked, her voice surprisingly gentle.
The look he turned on her was
thoughtful. "I tried the places I
knew you should be. When you were not
there, and no one at Starfleet Command seemed to know what had happened to you,
I widened the net." He included
them all in a rather disdainful look. "I was not aware how unsavory
certain residents of this city are."
"You said we weren't
popular with them, though," Emma said.
"It is the reason I chose
to talk to Admiral Kirk rather than stake him."
"I'm standing right
here, Spock. And I doubt Chris would let
that happen."
Again, no mention of Emma.
But then Jim glanced at her
and grinned. "Not to mention my
secret weapon over there." Emma saw
Christine nod, her smile untroubled, and forced herself to quit questioning
what was.
Jim turned back to
Spock. "And I might have a thing or
two to say about you staking me, as well.
I don't need to hide between these two, strong as they may
be." He smiled a little
dangerously. "I'd love to prove
that to you. Old. Friend."
Spock's lips tightened
slightly, but he didn't move.
"Guess you better go
home to Gol," Christine said, her tone a bit mocking.
"I left Gol. My return would not be welcomed."
Jim almost smiled. "You left Gol. To come see me?"
"I left Gol because this Presence calls to me as the Kohlinahr never
did. You, Admiral, seemed my best chance
of finding it."
"Before it found
us?" Jim looked a little
worried. Then he seemed to throw that
emotion off. "You sure you didn't
just flunk out for sending us those comms?
Hateful doesn't begin to describe them."
"As your betrayal was
extreme..." Spock took a deep breath, seemed to gather himself. "This Presence distracts me from you or
anything else. Therefore, I seek
it."
"Same old Spock. Nothing like a cause to get lost in."
Spock ignored him. He looked around at all of them. "What my sources could not tell me was
which of you turned the others."
No one answered; Emma smiled
at the sudden feeling of solidarity. She
wasn't in love with being undead, but she'd damn well stick with her own.
Then Christine said into the
silence, "I did it. I turned them
both."
"Chris." Jim's voice was sharp.
"No. Let him know.
What difference does it make?"
Christine moved closer to Spock.
"I looked around and picked the people I loved the most." Her words were hard, brutal.
"Christine..." Emma shook her head.
"It's okay, Emma. Poor Spock's just probably wondering if he's
next on the list. I wanted to set his
mind at ease." She turned back to
Spock. "You're in no danger,
lover."
Jim took a deep breath. "Spock, this has been swell. Really.
Catching up and all..." His
voice dropped. "Now, leave."
"Nogura needs to know
what we know."
"Nogura and I aren't
speaking these days. He likes his
Admirals breathing--unless it's his doing that they aren't." Jim glanced at Christine. "There's nothing I can do."
Spock only stared at him.
"I mean it, Spock."
"If you change your
mind, I will be at the Vulcan Embassy."
He turned and walked away quickly.
Jim went back into the
apartment, while Christine stood staring after Spock.
"Because our lives
weren't complicated enough," Emma muttered as she went inside.
Christine didn't follow her
for several minutes. And when she did
come in, both she and Jim were very quiet for the rest of the night.
---------------
The moon was hanging full and
heavy over the city. Christine stalked
the alleys and back streets with Jim.
Even this sordid part of San Francisco, which most people probably assumed
didn't exist, was quiet. As if the
moon--or maybe just the two of them--had everything spooked.
"Nothing to kill,"
she muttered.
Jim glanced at her. "You used to correct me when I used that
word. Hunt--isn't that what you said we
do?"
"I was in a better mood
then."
"You were?"
She glared at him, realized
he wasn't joking. "Yes."
"Because the image of
you happy isn't one I associate with our new state of being."
"Are you happy?"
"Well, I was miserable
before. So that's not a fair question." He pulled her close as they walked. "Is it regret?"
He knew her so well. Then again, this wasn't exactly a new
theme.
She tried to explain. "Watching you and Spock tonight..."
"I know. But he won't let go of his anger and--"
"No, Jim. I'm not sorry for that. And that's not what I mean. If I hadn't turned you, you could have gone
with him. You could have gotten your
ship back from Nogura, and that breach in your friendship with Spock could have
been mended."
"Did Spock strike you as
a man wanting to rebuild a friendship?
Because to me, he just seemed like a man on a mission. I was his best chance for success, is
all."
She could hear the hurt in
his voice. "Maybe I should be sorry
I ran from him after that battle. If I
hadn't..."
He stopped walking, turned
and yanked her close. "This is our
life, Chris." He kissed her
ferociously, then forced her chin up so she had to look at the sky. "This is what we have. The moon.
The dark. And each other. Our little family with Emma. Doing the right that we still can. It's not a life we can back away from and
start over. Not a one of us."
"Because I did
this. I made us like this."
He sighed--a slow, drawn-out
affair.
"Just say it," she
said.
"I've never seen anyone
with the capacity to wallow that you have."
"Like you weren't
wallowing at that desk?"
"I was
brooding." He grinned at her, and
she could feel herself responding.
She couldn't imagine not
having him with her. "What if I'd
just run off with David? Taken on the
watchers and then left?"
"I would have followed
you. I would have found you." He nuzzled her neck, then bit down with
excruciating slowness. Pain popped along
the path of his teeth, then she felt the bliss of his sucking. He didn't take much, lifted his face to hers
and let her lick the blood from his lips.
There was more smeared there than usual, and she knew he'd done that for
her. So they'd have this to share.
How could she not have
him? "If there were a way to change
back...?"
"There's not."
"Are you sure? Maybe Weasel...?"
He looked down, and she
realized he must have already asked.
"Oh," she said.
He met her eyes, shaking his
head. "I didn't ask him to
look. He did it on his own."
She could tell by his voice,
by the earnestness of his face, that he wasn't lying. "And there's nothing?"
"Nothing. He found reference to a spell that can bring
a dead vampire back as a human. But the
spell has been lost for centuries."
"If we could find it though...?"
"Sweetheart, this was in
the same book that talked about two vampires having a mortal child. I think as credible sources go..."
She sighed. "Emma's probably looked, too."
"Do you think so?"
She shot him a confused look.
"She's taken to the life
rather well," he said.
"To the life, to our
bed. Emma's a survivor--except when
she's giving up."
"Maybe you should look
at what she did--what she led you to do to her--as her way of surviving."
They'd been over this. Christine knew he was right. God, she did love to wallow, didn't she?
She pulled him close, kissing
him hard, biting down on his tongue, welcoming the slow stream of blood. He always tasted so good. Strong and magical. Emma didn't taste that way. Neither had David. Even Christine's own blood, tasted secondhand
off one of their lips, didn't seem so sweetly powerful.
"I love you," she
said as she drew away. She stroked his
cheek for a moment, then pointed him in the direction of Weasel's. "There's nothing to hunt tonight. Go learn stuff."
"You're sure?"
She nodded.
He smiled, a boyish look full
of anticipation. "We're working on
water spells. Weasel was pretty
impressed with what I've been doing with fire.
Said I should move on to the other elements."
She smiled. "Don't come home all drenched."
"I'll dry off before I
leave." He gave her a quick
kiss. "Go back to Emma."
"I will. If she's back." Emma had left them in bed, gone off on her
own. She did that. Didn't always tell them where she'd be or
when she'd be back. But Emma had been on
her own for so long. She probably just
needed some "me" time.
Jim looked concerned, as if
he wasn't willing to leave Christine alone.
"Go on, Jim. I'll be fine." She pushed him gently.
With a last glance at her, he
headed away, and she set out for home, her route taking her near the cemetery
where she'd first met David. What would
David be like if they could resurrect him?
Disturbed, still? Filled with
hate and anger over Laura? Would it be
any better to be a human than a vampire in that case?
She decided to walk through
the cemetery, reliving memories until she heard footsteps behind her. Whoever it was seemed to be trying to walk at
the same pace, disguising that they were there.
Christine scented the air; the powerful, warm blood-smell of a human
wafted to her.
Turning, she saw a girl, no
more than sixteen. Petite and blonde,
she'd have looked more like a student if she hadn't been staring so intently at
Christine. The girl had her hand pushed
deep into her pocket--no doubt touching comfort in the form of sharpened wood.
"Go home,"
Christine said loudly. "I'm not
your enemy."
"You're a vampire,
aren't you?"
"Got me
there." Christine was horrified to
feel something rise inside her--she wanted to fight this slayer? Did she want to kill her, too?
As the girl began to move
closer, Christine held up her hand.
"Hold tight, youngster. I've
got a bit of a dilemma I need to work out."
"What?" But the slayer stopped.
Christine scented again. She could read both fear and excitement from
the girl. She could smell the strong
pull of blood--slayer blood--but she didn't feel irresistibly drawn to it,
despite being hungry.
"Are we going to fight
or not?"
"I don't think
so--"
Another vamp leapt from the
bushes, his powerful bulk knocking the girl down as he crashed on top of her.
"Hey!" Christine moved to them in a rush.
"Grab your own dinner,
babe. This one's mine."
"Like hell she
is." Christine kicked him away from
the girl, feeling the lust for a fight finally being answered. Maybe she was just antsy? Spock being here and all, and no good slays
recently.
"I said she's
mine." The vamp punched Christine
hard, forcing her back.
She let him think he had the
upper hand, waited until they neared a tree with several low-lying branches and
finally let loose. Giving in to her urge
to pummel something repeatedly, she knocked him down and followed him to the
ground, punching his face viciously.
When he kicked up, she let the motion carry her away until she found her
feet and met him with a flying kick as he rose.
Two more kicks and he flew back into one of the spear-like branches.
As he stared down a the
branch that had plunged him, he said, "What the f--"
Then he was dust.
Christine heard movement,
whirled and saw the slayer fling her stake at her. It was an excellent throw, but Chapel
moved--slayer reflexes combining with vampire speed to let her slide out of the
way and snatch the stake from the air.
She tossed it back to the
girl. "Tremendous form. Next time don't make so damn much noise
getting up."
The slayer stared down at her
stake, then back up at Christine.
"But...but you're a vampire."
"We've established
that." Christine turned her back on
the girl, continuing on her way. Her
senses were on high alert as she listened for the sound of wood leaving flesh if
the slayer tried again.
But instead she heard
pounding feet and a, "Wait up."
She turned. The girl was running toward her; she jammed
the stake back into her pocket before she got to Christine.
"Why did you do
that? Give me tips? Throw my stake back?"
"Because I have no
instinct for self preservation?"
The girl laughed. "No, you sounded like you cared. Like you had a stake in this." She grinned, an open, easy expression. "No pun intended."
"Very funny."
"I've killed vamps. Lots of them.
They didn't help out during the process."
"Maybe I'm
retarded? That could be why all the
other vamps hate me."
"Actually, I think it's
'cause you're slaying them." The
girl studied her. "They probably do
hate you, don't they?"
"Maybe."
"You were a slayer,
weren't you?" The girl looked
confused. "My watcher told me that
slayers being turned was just an old wives' tail that vampires use to make us
more afraid."
"Your watcher's full of
shit."
"So, you really are a
slayer turned to a vampire?"
Christine sighed. What was the use of hiding this? "I really am."
"Don't you want to
feed?"
"On you, you mean?"
The girl nodded.
"Not particularly."
"Weird." She touched Christine's arm quickly. "Yep.
Vamp temp."
"I can see you'll be a
scientist when you grow up."
"Is that what you
are?"
"That's what I
was." Although she still could be
one. Labs didn't have to come with
windows. Hell, she could build a lab in
their apartment--barring the fact it was too small for the three of them, much
less the three of them and a makeshift lab.
"I was a doctor. Just graduated
from med school." That night came
rushing back. That night that changed
everything.
"You're Chapel, aren't
you?"
She knew she looked
startled. "Who told you about
Chapel?"
"Some of the older girls
got this weird comm from an ex-watcher named David Wharton. He said if the notes were being read, that
he'd been killed. He said if he wasn't
around, that we should find a slayer called Christine Chapel."
Christine smiled. How like David to make sure he'd get his
revenge on the watchers--dead or alive.
"He said you'd protect
us from the nasty stuff he claimed the watchers would do to us. Especially when we turn eighteen."
Christine frowned. "What happens then?"
"He called it the
Cruciamentum. Some kind of test, where
we're made helpless and locked in with a vampire? If we survive, we pass. If not..."
"Oh, god." Christine sat down on the nearest bench.
"You didn't know?"
Christine shook her head,
reliving that time in the sewers. Roger
had done that to her? He'd made her sick
and then locked her in with a monster?
Damn the watchers. Damn them all.
The slayer studied her. "This David guy forgot to mention you were
a vampire."
"Did he remember to
mention he was one, too?"
The slayer frowned. "No, he left that part out."
"He must have made the
comm before he turned me."
"He was your sire?"
Christine nodded.
"Okay. Weird, again." The girl went back to studying her. "I remember hearing about you through
the slayer grapevine. Weren't you
Starfleet?"
"Yep."
"And you're not
now?"
"Do I look Fleet to
you?" Christine changed into vamp
face.
"Does it hurt to do
that?"
"No." Christine changed back to human and
laughed. "You're a weird girl,
yourself, you know?"
"My watcher used to say
that."
"Your watcher shouldn't
say that. He--"
"She."
"She should be
protecting you, not telling you crap like that."
"Yeah, well, she must
have read a different watcher-slayer relations book than you did." The slayer looked around. "Hey!
We're just going in circles."
"Do you think I want you
knowing where I'm headed?"
"Well, I sort of hoped
you'd be distracted enough by my winsome ways to show me your nest." The girl ripped out her stake.
Christine glared at her,
turning it up to the look she had to use on Jim and Emma, until the girl put
the stake away.
"You're no fun at all,
Christine."
"Uh, huh." Christine started walking back toward the
entrance. "What's your name,
kiddo?"
"Ashley."
"You like hot chocolate,
Ashley?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Come on, then. My treat."
"And I thought this
couldn't get any weirder." The girl
looked up at her. "Did you really
think my form was good?"
"It was excellent. We can talk about it over cocoa."
The girl beamed.
Christine thought David would
have approved.
----------------
Kirk watched as Weasel slowly
brought the air spell into life.
Concentrating, Kirk felt out with his mind and will and whatever else
went into magic, to figure out how Weasel was causing a mini tornado to appear
in the workroom.
Gradually, he saw strands of
magic making the air spin and dance. He
began to weave the air in front of him the same way. As he built his own mini twister, Weasel let
his die down.
Kirk grinned as he
worked. Magic was suddenly so much
easier. Maybe those filters he'd lost
when Chris had turned him, had also acted as a bit of a barrier to mastering
things magical. Now, his twister lifted
as he willed it, dropped back down to the floor just as fast.
"Let it go, Mac."
Kirk willed it to
disintegrate, and air suddenly whipped by him, causing the things on the
shelves behind him to blow around.
"Slowly. Crap, have I taught you nothing?"
"Sorry." Kirk could feel energy snapping through him,
and he grounded and let the power flow into the Earth.
"Well, good to see you
remember some things." Weasel sat
down, studying him.
"What?"
"Someone was asking
about you."
"Tall guy? Pointy ears?
Cold as ice?"
"Uh, no. This was a woman. And as far from cold as you can get."
Kirk stared at him. "A fire demon? Name of Alma."
"Right in one,
Mac."
"What the hell did she
want?"
"Dunno. And I didn't ask on account of me saying I
didn't know you." He crossed one
leg over the other. "She didn't
seem overjoyed to be looking for you."
"We were involved. Before Chris." Before Chris and Emma. Christ, how complicated had his life gotten?
"Well, I pretty much
figured she wasn't a creditor."
Weasel winked at him. "She's
at the Sanctuary, in case you were wondering what area of town to avoid--or
seek out."
The Sanctuary was on the
other side of town. It catered to
demons, mainly. Good and bad. Kirk wondered where Alma fell out as far as
he was concerned. A fire demon was
normally bad news to a vamp.
"Can we go over that
water spell again?" Kirk asked.
Weasel chuckled. "Earth smothers fire, too."
"Yeah, I'll perfect them
both." He began to build the water
spell. "You're sure she didn't say
what she wanted?"
"Shut up and
concentrate. I've told you all I
know."
Kirk shut up and
concentrated, running through both the water and earth spells. Weasel was nodding off when he finally
quit. He covered his teacher up with a
quilt and headed home.
He half expected Alma to pop
out at him with every step. "This
is ridiculous," he muttered and ducked into an alley, centering and
remembering Alma--her smell, the touch of her.
He sent out feelers, questing for her energy.
There. He smiled and followed the feeling just far enough
to tell she was near the Sanctuary, if not actually in it. He cut the chase off before she'd notice him
seeking her. What could she want with
him now? She'd left without a backwards
glance. Until he knew why she was in
town, he didn't want to worry Chris--but should he warn her? What if Alma meant her harm?
He hurried back to the apartment,
found Emma there, but not Chris.
"Hi." Emma's smile was shy, as if she was having
trouble figuring out how to deal with him when they weren't in bed with Chris.
He knew the feeling. "Hi." The apartment felt smaller, now that she was
with them. He sat on the bed.
"This is odd, isn't it?"
she asked.
"Life took a turn down
Odd Street when Chris became a slayer again back on the Enterprise. This thing between all of us is
just...awkward."
"Awkward. Yes, that's a good word for it." She stood up, walking over to him, studying
him as if he was a specimen in a lab.
"What are you
doing?"
"Trying to decide if
you're my type."
"I'm not." He was suddenly sure of it.
"And I'm not yours,
either." She sat down, her shoulder
brushing his. "So, we're not
attracted to each other?"
"Right." He was acutely conscious of the way she was
pressing against him.
"Right." She let out a ragged breath. Then she turned and kissed him.
He kissed her back.
The door opened as they were pulling
away.
"Hi, guys," Chris
said, smiling at them both. "I met
the cutest little slayer tonight."
She turned to look at them and frowned.
"Don't let me stop you."
Peeling off her shirt, she said, "Ugh, I need a shower." Then she disappeared into the bathroom.
Kirk looked at Emma. "Uhhhh..."
She began to laugh, her eyes
twinkling in a way that charmed him. He
leaned in and kissed her. It was a
gentle kiss, sweet and low pressure, and she ran her fingers through his hair
as he pulled her closer.
He heard the shower go on,
pulled away from Emma slowly.
She touched his cheek. "Let's wait for her, shall we?"
"Yes, let's wait for
her." He touched her hair, combing
it with his fingers, then moving up to her scalp, massaging deeply.
Emma sighed in
contentment. "Was it a mistake to
start this thing between the three of us?"
"Oh,
probably." He heard the door open,
smiled at Chris. "Hurry up. We're getting tired of waiting."
"Who said you had to
wait."
"No one." He let go of Emma's hair.
"We just wanted
to," Emma said softly.
Chris crawled into bed,
pulling them to her. "My
dearests."
She kept them busy for a very
long time.
He ended up in the middle,
the women cuddled against his sides. "Alma's here."
"In town?" At his nod, Chris asked, "Looking for
you?"
"Seems so."
Emma shifted. "Who's Alma?"
He said, "My ex,"
at the same time as Chris said, "A fire demon."
"Oh. My."
Emma began to laugh. "When
it rains..."
"Funny." Chris propped herself up to meet his
eyes. "What does she want?"
"Not sure."
"Do we know where she
is?"
"Yep."
"I said we, not
you."
"You're not finding out
until I figure out how I want to handle this."
Chris pouted, then fell back
onto the mattress. "Can I go back
and play with my fun new friend and just forget Alma's here?"
"Were you serious about
meeting a slayer?" Emma asked.
"Yes. Seems our David had a dead man's trigger on a
notification comm. The older girls were
not thrilled to hear about the Cruciamentum." She looked sternly at Emma. "I wasn't exactly thrilled to find out
that way, either."
"Oh, god. He didn't tell them?"
"Emma, you can't
possibly support this barbarism?"
"Of course I don't, but this
could bring down chaos on us all."
She sounded very much like a watcher.
"You're not part of that
'us,' anymore," Kirk said gently.
Emma sighed.
"David told them to look
for me. That I'd help them," Chris
said.
Kirk frowned. Just what they needed. More company.
"And this girl was seeking you out?"
"Well, no. She started out wanting to stake me. But once we worked that out, we had a lovely
talk."
Emma sighed again.
"She has a crappy
watcher."
"You can't be sure of
that," Emma said.
"I can, too. She told me; I trust her." Chris snuggled in close. "She's sweet. I think I'll keep her."
Kirk met Emma's eyes, which
seemed to be saying, "Don't encourage her."
He decided keeping his mouth
shut was definitely the thing to do.
----------------
Spock awoke to the sound of
voices speaking Vulcan and the distant sense of the Presence, whatever it
was. Jim had felt it, too, yet he had
offered no help. A wave of anger coursed
through Spock. Anger that months at Gol,
enduring the most rigid of the Vulcan mental disciplines, had not been able to
burn out. At least, the anger was in
control now. Thanks to Gol, he could
pretend he did not feel the rage, but it was still there. Anger at Jim and particularly at Christine.
She had allowed herself to be
turned. She had subsequently turned two
others. She and her offspring should be
slain. Spock should have started the
process last night with the heavy-worlder who had been Christine's watcher,
according to one of his disreputable sources.
But he had not been able to
draw his stake, and he feared that his hesitation had been because, in some
strange way, the woman had reminded him of himself. She had been so willing to protect the
others, so willing to become like the others despite the training she'd no doubt
undergone. She should have shunned
Christine if she could not destroy her, should have exposed her to the Council,
not allowed Christine to woo her to this new path.
A soft knock on his door
interrupted his reverie.
"Enter."
His mother peeked in. "Spock, are you all right? It is very late in the afternoon for you to
still be in bed."
He was keeping vampire
hours. At least until he was certain Jim
could not help him in his quest to get to the Presence.
"I am fine,
Mother." It was the answer she wanted,
meaningless as humans said it because they used it no matter how they really
felt. But it appeased her, and she left
him in peace.
In peace--Spock had not felt
peace since he'd bonded with Christine.
She had been his, and, for that brief time, he had not been alone. It was the aloneness of the Presence that
drew him to seek it out. The
overwhelming sense of a need for completeness.
He did not understand the entity's vastness, but this one thing came
through: it was alone.
It sought; Spock sought. And the voice across the light years was cold
and dispassionate in its need. No
bruised and bloody vampire lay beneath its fists. No strong, and ultimately unstable, woman lay
near it in bed. No friend for whom it
would have died kept this woman from it--then kept her for himself.
No, the Presence knew none of
this. It sought perfection, Spock
thought. The perfection of intellect, of
logic. And Spock thought that if he
found it, he could find oblivion by drowning in the all of things. A surrender to perfect thought.
Spock forced himself out of
bed, showered, and dressed in clothes that would not confine him as his robes
would if he needed to fight. It would be
dark soon.
He sat with his mother for a
time, eating a light meal although he had no taste for it. But strength was essential. As much as Jim and Christine looked like the
people he knew, he must never forget what they had become.
He left the embassy as
darkness fell, making his way across the city.
He sensed something following him and stopped, turning. There was nothing, yet he still felt a
prickling along his spine. He had
learned not to ignore that feeling while he was with Christine. Her world contained many dangers that could
lurk in the darkness and never betray themselves until it was too late.
He moved on, came to a
cemetery and saw a young woman hurrying in.
Farther down the path, he saw Christine, wearing a smile clearly
intended to mesmerize the girl who ran toward her.
He must not allow this. Christine must not be allowed to pervert
innocence.
He drew his stake, and
slipped into the bushes, hoping to work his way close enough to be able to
surprise Christine. Her instincts would
no doubt be as keen, if not more acute, than when she'd been a slayer.
He heard a growl behind him
and slowly turned. Something large and
furry and very vicious looking advanced on him, forcing him toward where
Christine sat with the girl. Spock broke
through the bushes, walking backwards, trying to keep an eye on both Christine
and this new creature.
"Spock?" Christine sounded annoyed, and her reaction
sent a wave of new anger roaring through him.
The creature seemed to sense
Spock's rage, and leapt at him, knocking him to the ground, teeth dangerously
close to Spock's neck. Rank spittle
dropped on his face as the fangs moved closer.
Suddenly, the creature flew
off him, and Christine was hauling Spock to his feet. Her face had changed to a vampire's visage,
and something about the way she advanced on the snarling creature reminded Spock
of T'Pau, cowing his father and the Council and everyone who'd ever tried to
defy her.
"What the hell do you
think you're doing?" Christine
kicked the thing into a tree, reached out and wrenched it around, so its face
went into the trunk. It scrambled madly
as it reared back, thick claws making the bark fly. She held it with one hand, jammed her other
into the back of its head and shoved.
The thing's face hit the tree so hard that Spock almost winced in
reaction.
"Check him for
bites," Christine yelled to the girl.
She seemed to notice Spock drawing back.
"She's a slayer, not a vampire."
"I'm Ashley," the
girl said, as she began to check his skin and robe. "And you are...?"
"Uncertain why you are
doing this." He pulled away.
She jerked him back. "That's a werewolf. If it bit you, you'll turn into a werewolf at
the next full moon. And you might not
even know you are one, so we have to check for bites." She finished her inspection, called out to
Christine, "He's clean."
Christine threw the werewolf
away from her. It transformed into a
human male--a naked human male--and rubbed his face where she had smashed him
into the tree. "Ow. Bitch."
Christine smiled at the term,
and Spock realized that, given the context, it might not be an insult.
The werewolf did not seem the
least concerned with his nakedness.
"I'm just trying to protect you.
My alpha told me to."
"Lori?"
The man nodded, then he
pointed to Spock. "He was going to
stake you."
"I knew he was
there."
Spock could not tell if she
was lying.
The werewolf apparently
thought he could. "Sure, you
did."
Christine stalked to him and
knocked him flat with a backhand delivered with utter dispassion. "Your alpha is my beta. That makes me your uber alpha, which should
make you a smart whelp who doesn't talk back.
Got it?"
The man nodded quickly.
"Get out of here."
The man hurried away, but
Spock caught the glance he threw back at Christine. He expected the werewolf to view her with
rage over her treatment of him. Instead
he saw devotion--slavish devotion. Spock
decided he might need to enhance his knowledge of pack dynamics.
"She's so tough,"
Ashley said, with what sounded like approval.
"Who are you, anyway?"
"This is
my..." Christine frowned as she
walked back to them. "I guess he's
my ex-husband." She raised an
eyebrow at him.
He did not return the
gesture. "That is an accurate
description."
"I did hear you sneaking
up on us, for whatever it's worth."
"Of course." He was still unsure if she was telling the
truth.
She eyed the stake in his
hand. "You were planning on
sticking that in me?"
Ashley giggled, and Spock
thought Christine was making her language deliberately provocative.
"I believed you were
going to feed on this child."
"Ewww. And not a child." Ashley glared at him.
"I had not intended to
divert into this cemetery. I was on my way to locate Admiral Ciani. I thought she might assist me with Nogura,
since Admiral Kirk will not."
"Who's Kirk?"
Ashley asked.
"My current
boyfriend."
"This just gets better
and better. And Ciani is...?"
"That werewolf's
alpha."
Spock could feel his eyebrow
going up.
"Good luck with her,
Spock." Christine put her hand on
Ashley's shoulder. "Let me show you
the throw I learned from Spike."
Christine was teaching this
slayer? And had she brought up Spike
deliberately? Spock felt off balance as
he left the cemetery. He decided to wait
until the moon wasn't full before approaching Admiral Ciani.
--------------
Christine kept looking back
even though every one of her slayer and vampire senses told her Spock wasn't
following. The protectiveness she'd felt
as she'd thrown the werewolf off him had surprised her. It hadn't been love, exactly, that had made
her do it. It had been more a surge of
possessiveness. In some fundamental way,
she considered him hers.
Just as Jim was hers, and
Emma was hers. She'd even asked Emma if
she could keep Ashley. Had she always
viewed the world in terms of possession?
"So...you were married
to the Vulcan guy?" Ashley asked.
"In a manner of
speaking."
"But you're not,
anymore?"
"It's a long,
complicated story."
"You fell in love with
someone else? This Kirk guy?"
"No."
"You aren't in love with
him?"
"Oh, no, I am. It's just...that's not why Spock and I fell
apart." She shot Ashley a stern
look before the girl could worm Spike's involvement in all this out of her. "I didn't come here to tell you my life
story."
"Then tell me your death
story." Ashley's voice was low.
"You don't want to hear
it."
Ashley looked away. "Yeah, I do."
"No." Christine studied her. "What?"
"I've thought of
it. Sometimes." Ashley kicked at the grass as she
walked. "When things got really
bad. I'd think how much worse could it
be to be a vampire? And how much nicer
to not have to care." She looked up
at Christine. "But you care. So I guess that part's bull, huh?"
Christine laughed softly.
"Every slayer wants to
hear about death stories, though, Christine.
That's what my watcher told me once.
That we're creatures of death. That
we deal it and ultimately we're fascinated by it."
"Because it will come
for us all sooner rather than later?"
Ashley nodded.
"I really don't like
your watcher. She shouldn't be
encouraging you in this kind of morbid thought."
"Right, because slayers
are such a happy-go-lucky bunch, normally." Ashley skipped a little ahead, then turned,
walking backwards, watching Christine.
"So, were you overpowered by David?"
"No."
"You let him do this to
you?"
"It's
complicated." It was easier than
saying the truth--that she'd been weak.
"You say that about
everything." Ashley frowned. "Is it just complicated when it's your
fault?"
"Don't be so damn
perceptive."
Ashley laughed. "Okay, then. Tell me about Spike. He's a legend, you know?"
"Yes, I know."
"Did you love him?"
"He saved me."
"That's not really an
answer, is it?"
Christine sighed. "No, it's not. I loved him; I wasn't in love with him."
"God, story of his life
or what?" Ashley turned around and
fell back into step with Christine.
"So, if David really wanted to help us, how could he do this to
you? Seems sort of contradictory as
messages go."
"I think he thought he
was helping me. I know he thought I
could help him in his fight against the watchers and what they're doing to the
slayers."
"How did he die?"
Christine looked down. "Dusted." It was the safe answer.
Ashley clearly didn't like
safe answers. "Who dusted
him?"
"I did," Christine
mumbled.
"What was that? I thought for a moment you said you
did?" The girl studied her. "So, now I've got two contradictory
messages. Great."
"He was going to kill
Jim." She saw Ashley's eyes narrow
in confusion. "The Kirk guy."
"Oh. Okay.
And him you really are in love with?"
"Yes."
"All right,
then." They walked in silence for
a bit. "Christine, why did you
protect me last night from that other vamp?"
"Because I'm still a
slayer."
"I'm not sure the
Council would agree."
Ashley was the mistress of
understatement. The Council not only
wouldn't agree; they'd probably send a special hit squad just to take her
down. She could imagine Kevin Silver
drawing back the crossbow bolt that would send her to Hell--or wherever
weak-willed slayers-turned-vampires went.
Was there a special Hell just for her?
Or was it hubris and self-involvement
to think that way? Just more wallowing?
"Do you think you're
still a slayer? Do you think a vampire
can be a slayer?" Ashley's voice
was challenging, as if she was trying to push Christine a little. She stopped walking, stood in front of her,
feet planted.
"I saved you, so I must
think that." Christine eyed the
girl, noticing how she hadn't let her guard down. Good--she'd stay alive longer.
"You could have saved me
because he was horning in on your prey."
"Well, since you're not
lying bloodless on the ground..."
Christine moved in. "Shut up
for a second and let me show you this move.
It's great, especially if you're smaller than your average
opponent." She put Ashley into the
pose of the aggressor, hands on either side of Christine's neck.
"This doesn't involve a
head butt, does it?"
Christine laughed. "Nope." She leaned forward as if she was going to try
to heft Ashley over her head, and felt the girl automatically compensate. That was the mistake; as Ashley leaned back,
Christine kicked out, hooking the girl's leg and using her backward momentum to
knock her off balance to the side. As
Ashley fell, Christine grabbed the girl's hand and whirled, pulling her around
so she fell face down. Christine landed
on her back, Ashley' arm held high and tight in a painful hold.
"Okay. Wait a minute." Ashley tried to move, couldn't. "That's too easy."
"It'll be even easier
for you being so small. It's all about
leverage and balance." Christine
poked her finger into Ashley's back.
"If I had a stake, you'd be dust."
"Actually, I'd just be
dead. Human, still." Ashley wriggled under her. "Can I try?"
Christine got up. "No stakes."
"I've had a dozen
opportunities to stake you, Christine.
If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now."
"Works both ways, little
sister." As Ashley moved toward
her, Chapel kicked out again, knocking her on her butt. "Never, ever, let your guard down. I'm an evil fiend, remember?"
"What happened to the 'I
still want to be part of the slayer club'?"
"Oh, I still
do." Christine moved into the
position she'd had Ashley take.
"Remember, part of this is about acting. I already know I'm bigger and stronger. Convince me to open myself up. "
She felt the girl lean forward,
instinctively leaned back and didn't try to stop her attempt to
counterbalance. Ashley kicked her leg
out from under her, following her down, landing on her hard, her knee in
Christine's back, her hand wrenching Christine's arm up painfully.
She leaned down, her voice
cocky in Christine's ear. "Never,
ever let your gua--"
Christine head-butted her and,
when the girl fell off her, rolled away.
"Goddamn it." Blood was streaming from Ashley's nose. "I think you broke it."
"You'll heal fast, you
big baby." Christine could smell the
blood, felt her face change in response.
Ashley sat perfectly still,
her t-shirt becoming a canvas of red polka dots from the blood dripping down
onto it.
Christine forced her face
back to normal, before tearing off some of Ashley's shirt, trying not to notice
how the girl shrank back. She showed her
how to hold the biggest rag to her nose, where to put pressure. Then she tore a smaller piece up for the girl
to jam under her upper lip.
"Pressure points. It'll help
stop the bleeding."
"You really are a
doctor."
"I really
was." She met Ashley's eyes. "No, I am. I still help people."
"Yeah, sure. When you're not lying about head
butts." She pulled the rag away
from her nose; no more blood flowed.
"Did you want to bite me just then?"
Christine wanted to lie. With everything in her, she wanted to
lie. She didn't. "Yes.
I'm a vampire. Part of me may
always want to bite you."
Ashley looked down. "And I'm a slayer. Part of me may always want you to."
Christine grabbed her by the
arms, shook her hard. "Don't say
that. Don't ever say that."
"You wanted it--you must
have."
"You're not me. Don't be like me."
"Why not? You're the best of both worlds, aren't
you?"
"No, I'm the
worst." She looked down.
"So you're lecturing me
on choices?" Ashley's voice was
hard.
Sighing, Christine got up and
started to walk away.
"Where are you
going?"
"Away from you. That's healthier, I think. Maybe for both of us."
"I don't think it
is." Ashley said. "You know things I should know. Like that throw. And other stuff." There was an odd note of desperation in the
girl's voice.
Christine turned to look at
her. This slayer had popped up out of
nowhere. Just like David had, only
Christine wouldn't fall for that again.
This was no vampire pretending to be human. This was a human. One who smelled like fear and neediness and a
little bit of panic.
And hopelessness.
Christine walked slowly back
to her. "You're not from around
here, are you?"
Ashley pushed herself to her
feet. "I am. Sort of. I have an aunt who lives across town."
"Where is your watcher,
Ashley?"
"Who cares? She's a horrible watcher."
"Where is she?"
Ashley's voice was very
small. "She's dead."
"Vampire?"
The girl laughed
bitterly. "I wish. I'd have understood that." She kicked at the grass again. "Try a hundred proof rock-gut. Try drinking until you can't see, until you
fall asleep and drown in vomit you probably didn't even know you'd thrown
up." She looked at Christine, her
young eyes merciless. "I found her. And she knew I would. It was training time."
"I'm sorry."
"It was because of
me."
"You don't know
that."
"I do. They keep journals, these watchers. They all keep journals. And I read hers." Ashley looked down. "She said we were all demon spawn. She said in one entry that she thought I'd
died on patrol, that she was sorry when I showed back up." Ashley was breathing hard, as if she'd been
running. "She hated me. She hated everything about me."
She sank to the grass;
Christine settled next to her, trying to give her some support.
"I started to do really
bad in school. Got into fights and stuff. I don't know, I guess the demon came
out. She was right about that maybe?" She took a deep breath. "My parents sent me to my aunt. So we could all have a little
break." She smiled tightly. "The Council said they'd send a new
watcher. Yay."
"This one might be
different."
"Might not. Why do I need a new watcher? I have you.
You can teach me so much more than some old watcher can." Her eyes shone, and Christine didn't like the
look on Ashley's face. It looked too
much like hero worship.
"You have to care about
staying alive, Ashley. About being with
people who make you feel good about yourself.
About being in the sun."
"But you can't be in the
sun. And I like being with you."
Christine laughed
tightly. "But that's not because
I'm me. That's because I'm a vampire,
and you want to live on the edge, don't you?"
"Maybe. But what slayer doesn't? We have such a short time to live; we have to
get it all in fast." She smiled, a
little cruelly. "Unless, that is,
we're really good at running away."
Christine bit back a reply.
"Truth hurts, doesn't
it?"
"Where are you getting
all this 'truth,' Ashley?"
"The girls who got
David's message, some of them went looking for stuff about you. We're all hooked up, comm wise. The watchers don't know it, though."
"The slayer grapevine,
you mentioned?"
Ashley nodded.
"And you've updated them
on my new status, I take it? How
daylight challenged I am now?"
"No. I haven't."
"Why not?"
Ashley swallowed. "Because some of them wouldn't
understand. Because I don't want to put
you in danger." She shrugged. "If any of them take David's advice and
come looking for you, they'll figure it out soon enough."
"He really wasn't
thinking this through." Had he made
her his heir in this vendetta before or after he'd gotten to know her?
Christine heard a buzzing
noise, realized it was a personal comm unit.
Ashley grinned at her and held the unit close to her ear. "Hello?" She listened for a minute then said, "I'm
a little busy right now, Billy."
Billy must not have liked
that answer, because Ashley rolled her eyes and mimicked him ranting at her.
Christine laughed.
"I'll comm you in a
bit. Yes, I'm coming home soon. I've got to go." She looked down, mumbled, "I love you,
too." Then she cut the connection
and made a face. "My
boyfriend. Back home."
"Boyfriends. The source of all strife," Christine
said with a smile, but she wasn't actually kidding. "It's late. You should go."
"I patrol here,
now. You can find me any night."
Christine nodded.
Ashley slapped her gently on
the arm. "Buck up, Chapel. I didn't mean to depress you with my tale of
woe." She grinned, and Christine
wondered how she could be so upbeat. Was
it natural strength, or was she just a damned fine actress?
Ashley hugged her
quickly. "I'll see you
around."
"See you." Christine trailed her until she was clear of
the cemetery, then turned to her own hunting.
And as she hunted, everywhere
that Ashley had touched her felt warm and strong.
------------------
Emma stalked next to Jim,
hunting through the alleys. Christine
had abandoned them again for her little slayer.
Emma had thought Christine would grow tired of the girl, but she kept
going back.
Jim sighed in
frustration. "Nothing to
hunt." He glanced at her. "I'm going to the motel."
She nodded, leaving him to go
to his magic teacher, finding her own way back to the cemetery. She moved through the bushes, making no sound
as she passed the very stupid humans who were out for a nighttime stroll. They were safe, though, despite their
lackadaisical approach to personal safety, because Christine was patrolling with
her toy slayer.
Emma heard them coming and
froze, blending into the trees.
"Was it weird becoming a
vampire?" the young slayer asked Christine.
"From a medical
perspective, it was fascinating."
The girl laughed. "But from a human, bleeding-out
perspective?"
"It was a little
weird." There was enormous
affection for the girl in Christine's voice.
Emma thought of Laura. The girl that lit
David's life up and then left him reeling when she proved inadequate to fight,
to stay alive. Emma had lost both of
them the night Laura died. Only, David
had come back. Full of hate for all
things watcher, including her. But full
of love--or some twisted version of it--for all the slayers, and one in
particular.
It gave Emma a nasty surge of
pleasure that David had been staked by the very slayer he'd turned. Christine had never loved him, despite being
fascinated by him. Despite giving in to
him that one vital time.
The voices of Christine and
the slayer grew distant, and Emma resumed her hunt. Two young men hurried past her. They were fresh scrubbed and clean cut. Probably late getting back to the Academy.
Another man was following
them, but he saw her and veered in her direction. "You're out late," he said.
And she made herself sound
the slightest bit tipsy. "Yes, I'm
afraid I'm a little lost." It was
an admission that never failed to reveal a person's true character.
"Where are you
headed?"
"The wharf."
"It's this
way." He took her arm, led her the
wrong way, toward alleys she'd killed in before.
"Are you sure? My husband will be worried. We're just wed, you see. On our honeymoon, and I'm supposed to meet
him."
She could smell the rush of
pleasure he got at the idea of killing a new bride. She'd thought he'd enjoy that.
"This doesn't look like
the wharf," she said as he gripped her arm tighter.
"No?"
"No." She tried to sound frightened--his pleasure
would season his blood.
"I think you've been a
very bad girl," he said, suddenly throwing her back against the wall.
"No," she
whimpered. The last human she'd killed
had whimpered in just that way.
"I'm going to punish
you, but I want you to help me. I want
you to confess your sins. Every single
one of them." He hit a button on a
bracelet he wore, and a high-pitched whine told Emma that he'd engaged a
dampening field. A useful thing. With a thing like that, one could linger over
a kill.
He touched her hair, then
pulled, her head slamming into the brick.
"Let's start with your sexual sins, all right, sweetheart?"
"I'm sleeping with a man
and a woman, neither of whom is really in love with me."
He blinked. Obviously, actual confessions weren't what
his victims usually started with.
"But enough about
me. Let's hear yours." She moved, twisted, and grabbed, and suddenly
it was his head slamming into the wall.
"And I want you to know I'm a trained counselor. I'm very good at listening. And you can't shock me."
His knee went up as his head
butted her nose. He punched, and she
didn't fight, landing heavily on her backside.
She could see he was debating whether to make her pay or get the hell
out of there. Prudence won out, and he
ran.
She was up and on him in less
than five steps. He screamed, but no
lights came on, no one yelled at them to shut up. As she ripped the bracelet off him and put it
on her own wrist, she let her face change, then she bit him on the neck, only
taking a little.
"Please..."
"Please what?"
She thought he saw the truth
in her eyes, that death was inevitable.
"Please make it
quick."
"Would you have made it
quick for me?" She pushed him to his
knees. "Confess. Bare your soul. I promise not to judge." She stroked his cheek, working her way back
to his ear. She pushed just below it
with her finger, hard enough that her nail broke skin. She licked the blood off slowly as he moaned. "Let's start with your childhood. Tell me about your mother, why don't you?"
She had more than enough for
her diagnosis by the time she finished him off.
Maybe someday she'd write a paper.
----------------------
"So, Mister Spock,
Admiral Ciani tells me you have news of a presence you think Starfleet Command
should be aware of?"
"That is correct,
sir." Spock glanced at Admiral
Ciani, wondering how the petite woman had come to be the leader of a pack of
werewolves. He also wondered if Admiral
Nogura knew what she was.
"She also said you've
approached Admiral Kirk with this."
Spock hid his surprise. He had said nothing to Admiral Ciani about
Jim. "It was my understanding that
Admiral Kirk was listed as missing."
Nogura smiled very
slowly. "I'm always amazed at how
smoothly Vulcans lie." He looked
over at Ciani. "Don't you agree, my
dear?"
Her laugh was sweet and
girlish. The look she threw Spock was
not.
Nogura leaned forward. "Both Jim and Doctor Chapel are on
emergency leave. It's...personal, so I
thought it best not to note that in the general logs. But I have always known where they
were."
"I see."
"He sees,
sir." Again the not-very-nice look
from Ciani.
"But does he
understand?" Nogura got up, walked
to his very large windows. "I
expect them back any day now."
"You do?" Spock let an eyebrow go up.
"Oh, yes. You see, I don't let limitations get in the
way."
"Limitations? Such as, for instance, an inability to carry
out one's duty in direct sunlight?"
"Precisely what I
mean." Nogura slapped the
windowsill. "You never know what
might turn up to change things." He
looked at the sky. "You want me to
send you up there, don't you, Mister Spock?
Despite the fact that you've resigned from Starfleet? You want me to give you a ship and send you
out to meet your precious entity."
"Yes, sir."
"And what, pray tell, do
you hope to accomplish once you find it?"
"I anticipate
establishing first contact with the Presence."
"Bullshit!" Nogura turned. "You want to meld with the damn thing
and find the bliss you didn't achieve at Gol." He smiled, a smile that held no warmth. "Your bliss is your business, but don't
expect me to pony up a ship to help you out."
"This Presence is vast,
Admiral. So vast it--"
"Yes, I know. It's vast and it's lonely." He smiled the mean smile again at Spock's
surprise, then waved at Ciani.
"Explain it to him, Lori."
She got up and walked over to
a long, narrow table covered with what looked like antiquities. Pulling a scroll out, she walked back to him. "We've recently come into possession of
this. It's very old. Not very well known. It contains a prophecy that says a huge
power, full of longing, will appear in the Eastern skies. That it will join with its creator while
those who brought the creator to it escape destruction, along with every living
thing on the planet--and presumably others.
The ancients could be so limited in their interpretations."
She moved closer, let him see
the writing.
"I do not recognize
it," he said.
"It's Sumerian."
"Ah."
"Yes. Ah."
She pointed at one word in the midst of many others. "The one who brings all this to pass,
who delivers the creator, is named in this.
Right here. It does not, I'm
afraid, say Spock."
"Can you guess who it
does say, Spock?" Nogura grinned at
him. It was a caricature of Jim's smile.
"Admiral Kirk? But he is a..."
"Vampire. Undead.
Sucking corpse with delusions of grandeur?" Nogura laughed. "All of the above. And yet, very useful to us. As are you.
You're named as the one who will stand at his side during all
this."
"I am?"
Ciani put the scroll back on
the table. "Why else do you think
you were drawn back to Earth? A place
with such terrible memories for you?
It's preordained. Your role in
this, Jim's role in this. All of
it." She leaned down. "Even though you hate him, you must do
this with him."
"I do not hate
him."
"Oh, come now,
Spock," Nogura said gently.
"You're among friends. He
stole your woman from you, didn't he?
He's probably making love to her right now. He's had her over and over."
Spock frowned. "Do you wish me to work with him or are
you trying to anger me into staking him?"
Nogura laughed, and this time
it sounded genuine. "Well, that's a
good question." He glanced at
Ciani. "See what I get for screwing
around with people for fun?"
"Vulcans are
perceptive," she said.
"Indeed." Nogura walked over to the low table near
Spock. He touched one of the irises that
had been set in a simple arrangement with three others of varying height. The iris he touched wilted and then dried out
before Spock's eyes.
"Our world," Nogura
said softly, "is not quite what it should be. Something's wrong. You feel it; I feel it. You can damn well bet Jim feels it."
Spock swallowed. He did feel it. When he'd left Gol, he'd felt a sense of
inevitability at his decision to abandon the Kohlinahr. But he'd also felt as if the move had been
premature.
Ciani got up and walked to
the window, staring up at the sky.
"The scroll lays out what will happen. And, even though the players are all here,
they're not quite in position, yet."
Nogura smiled. "We need old friends for that. Jim's and mine."
Ciani grinned at him. "Irony that it is."
"Yes. Irony that it is." Nogura went to his desk. "Mister Spock,
don't wander too far, all right? We'll
be in touch when the pieces are all in order."
"In touch for
what?"
"Why, for you to go out
and meet the entity, of course. I'm
going to give you what you want--just in my way, not yours."
Spock nodded and left, lost
in thought as he walked the halls of Starfleet Command again. He'd achieved what he wanted. Why did it feel as if he'd lost?
---------------------
Kirk saw Alma leave the
Sanctuary and followed her, keeping to the shadows, where streetlights wouldn't
illuminate him. Alma shone, her body
seeming to glow from deep inside her.
With his vampire senses, he'd never mistake her as anything but what she
was: a creature of fire. He felt a frisson of fear, his body's way of
reminding him he was vulnerable--extremely vulnerable--to this woman's innate
powers.
She slowed, seemed to be
deciding which way to go. He slid
farther back into the shrubbery, but it couldn’t stop him from sensing her
power streaming toward him.
The vampire in him wanted to
run. The man who had been this woman's
lover wanted to recapture the remembered passion. He did neither, just stayed where he was,
silent and still.
She continued on her way, and
he heaved a sigh of relief. He
considered giving up and going home, and putting the most powerful wards he
could create on the apartment. But he
needed to find out what she wanted; he owed that to Chris and to Emma. He stared down the hill after Alma.
"Admiral Kirk?"
He whirled, startled to see
Uhura, knowing someone that familiar should not have been able to sneak up on
him.
"You're
alive!" She hugged him fiercely,
then let him go just as quickly.
"Or maybe not." Her
face fell, and fear showed.
"It's okay, Nyota."
"No, sir. I really don't think it is."
She held up a cross, and he
snarled, drawing back, hating that the symbol, which meant so little to him,
had this power over vampires.
"Ny, Chris and I...we
don't hunt innocent people. We stick to
criminals. Bad, bad people."
"You brought Christine
into this?" She sounded very
disappointed in him.
"Not exactly."
Uhura seemed to understand
immediately. "Oh. She did this to you."
"She was having a really
bad day."
To his surprise, she
laughed. Then she seemed to force her
expression into sterner lines.
"Now, cut that out."
She waved the cross at him, causing him to flinch back.
"If I promise not to
bite you, will you put that damn thing away?"
"No."
"Fine." He turned away from her, following the sense
of Alma since she was no longer in view.
"Are we tailing someone?" Uhura asked, cross still at the ready as she
caught up with him.
"We are not doing
anything." He shot her his best
"captain's not amused" look.
It didn't faze her, and she
fell into step with him. "So you
and Christine are together?"
"We are."
"And she's okay?"
"She is."
"Okay, then, I'm really
mad at her."
"I'll be sure to mention
that."
"Friends don't just take
off and forget to tell each other things like, say, they've become a little
sharper in the tooth."
"I'm sure she meant to
tell you."
"Uh huh. Just like she told me the last time she took
off and left Spock and all of us behind." She stopped him, pointed down to
the piers. "Not to change the subject,
but is that who we're following?"
Alma was standing, arms
crossed over her chest, staring directly at them.
"Because if you're going
for a surprise, it's a bust, sir."
"Thank you, Ny, for that
valuable insight. You can go now."
"Tell Christine to come
see me. I'll meet her outside a church
or something."
He grinned at her expression. "Unless you've suddenly gone evil, you
have nothing to fear from Christine."
Her expression changed
slightly.
"What?"
She didn't answer.
"Ny, what?"
She took a deep breath. "There were times I was afraid of her
even when she wasn't a vampire. Or maybe
just afraid for her."
He understood that sentiment;
he was still afraid for her.
"Go, Ny. I'll have her get in touch with you."
"You better." Uhura stashed the cross, then pulled him into
a hug, kissing his cheek as she let him go.
"I miss you two so damn much.
You couldn't have sent word you were okay?"
"I'm sorry." And strictly speaking, they weren't okay.
"All right. I'm leaving." With a last smile, she left him alone to face
Alma.
He walked down the hill
slowly. Alma seemed to gleam like a wood
stove with a roaring fire within. Could
no one else see what he could?
"Jim." Her voice was cold.
"Alma." He let his voice go cold, too.
"Why?"
He shrugged. How could he explain this to her? How would she ever understand?
"It was Christine,
wasn't it?" The fire inside her
seemed to flare. "I told you she
was trouble."
"I remember."
"But do you
care?" She studied him. "You're her lover now, aren't you?"
"Yes."
She took a deep breath; as
she breathed in, the fire seemed to grow stronger.
"I love her, Alma."
"Wonderful." She shook her head. "You thought you loved me once,
too."
"I did. But not the same way." He could tell that his words registered in
her like little knives. "I'm not
saying that to hurt you. I just want you
to understand."
"I
understand." She turned away. "I understand perfectly."
"Why are you here?"
She stared at him, as if he
was very, very stupid. "We shared
something, Jim. Even once I left you, I
could still feel you inside me. Part of
my fire was yours. And then...everything
changed. I couldn't feel you anymore on
the inside. And on the outside, I could
feel something like you, but other.
Undead. I was afraid of what I'd
find. But I couldn't believe that after
fighting Anacost, you'd give in so easily.
Even to her."
"You weren't there. You don't know how it was."
"So I can't judge
you? I'm sorry. I don't accept that."
"She didn't want to turn
me. She wanted me to stake her."
"Well, why didn't
you?" Again the fire inside her flared,
and he felt her magic licking out to him like little tongues of flame. It didn't feel like her old fire. It was less controlled and darker.
"Are you all
right?" he asked.
"You think your damn
slayer was the only one affected by the destruction of my Orb? I was supposed to keep it safe, but I let her
destroy it. And now I pay the
price. I have to see you like this. I have to know that you're with her, of all
people. And I have to feel what she must
have felt, when she ran. This
despair. So strong it makes me want to
run screaming and never stop." Alma
was shaking, and fire leaked out from her fingers.
He drew back. "Did you feel this way when you were
with me?"
"No. I think our magic together kept it away. Or maybe being with you was where I was
supposed to be. Where I could make up
for what I'd let happen. I don't
know." She reached for him, hungry
flame trying to race her to his flesh.
He drew back even more. "I can't."
"Do you want to?"
He could see in her eyes that
she needed the lie. But he couldn't give
it to her. "No. I don't want to. I have her now. I'm with Chris."
"But how long will she
be with you? I can't imagine this change
has made her any more stable."
He looked away, thinking
about how he'd brought Emma into the mix--all to keep Chris's tendency toward
despair in check.
"She was teetering
before, Jim. Now? She'll take a big, beautiful swan dive right
into the pit. And she'll drag you with
her." She turned to go.
"You never answered my
question. Why are you here?"
She didn't turn, spoke so
softly he could barely hear her.
"To save you."
And then she was gone, a trail
of flame marking her progress as she hurried away. He stared after her a long time before
heading home.
-------------------
Christine lay sheltered
between Emma and Jim, their hands running over her, occasionally running over
each other. She felt a sense of peace flood
through her and stopped their hands, pressing their flesh into hers.
"Don't leave me,"
she whispered.
Jim's report of his encounter
with Alma hadn't done wonders for her self-esteem, and she had a feeling he'd
edited out the most anti-Chris parts.
Emma snuggled in, kissing
her. "You know we won't. We joined you in this life, didn't we?"
"I didn't give you a
choice, Emma."
"No, darling. I didn't give you a choice." The truth Christine had always suspected hung
heavily in the air around them. "I
don't regret it," Emma murmured.
"No?" Jim's voice was a little off.
"No."
"Then why don't you ever
hunt with us, anymore?"
"I hunt with you."
"Never for long. You say there's nothing to hunt and
leave."
"No, I don't."
Christine knew why. "It's because we enjoy it too much. And she hates to watch."
"Oh." Jim's hand tightened on hers.
"That's not
it." Emma snuggled closer. "That's not it at all."
Jim rose up on his elbow, so
he could see her better. "Why,
then?"
"I don't hunt with you
because I enjoy it too much." She
buried her face in Christine's neck, biting softly, taking only a small amount
of blood.
"How much is too
much?" Jim asked, a worried sound in his voice.
"You two play little
crusader games, but you make the kill quickly.
You terrify your prey, but you don't make them suffer as they die."
"And you do?"
Christine asked.
Emma fiddled with the
bracelet she'd taken to wearing. "Have
you ever watched a cat play with a mouse?"
There was a very long silence.
"But not innocents? You don't do that to innocents?" Jim pulled Emma away from Christine so she
had to look at him. "Right?"
"Of course not to innocents." She sounded deeply offended.
"Well, we are
vampires. We're bound to act
out." He sighed and lay back down.
"Are we
regressing?" Christine asked, giving voice to what they probably were all wondering.
"I don't know,"
Emma said. And if she didn't know, they
were all screwed. Emma was their insight
woman--the counselor who could spin heads.
Christine suddenly had a vision of just how a cat might play with a
mouse.
Jim ran his hand over
Christine's stomach, let it slide onto Emma's waist. "We are what we are."
"How very
existential." Emma smirked.
"You know what I
mean. We can't keep striving for ideals
that don't apply. That we do any good at all is probably amazing."
"That is true,"
Emma said. She sounded like she was in
the mood to be convinced.
Christine studied Jim. "Do you still long for space?"
"No. I miss it, naturally. But no, not long for."
"As a counselor, I have
to say you are utterly unconvincing, my dear." Emma laughed softly. "Would you go back up there if you
could?"
He shrugged.
"He would,"
Christine said softly. "He belongs
there."
"I don't belong there,
anymore. Let's drop it, all right?"
They dropped it.
"So what do you think
Alma will do?" Emma asked, breaking a silence that had become a little
uncomfortable.
"I don't know."
"She doesn't like me,
Jim," Christine said. "And
she's going to blame me."
"I won't let her hurt
you." Jim kissed her gently.
"Neither will I,"
Emma whispered in her ear.
Christine sighed, feeling
cherished but also very vulnerable.
She'd never been on Alma's list of favorite people. And the woman had magic. Fire magic.
Jim could maybe protect them from it, but she and Emma were helpless
against it without him. "How hard
is it to learn magic?"
"We have our magic,
already, Christine," Emma said gently.
"Healing--helping others, knowing what they need--is our
magic."
"Damn," Christine
said, and she stared at the ceiling, trying to forget that there was a fire
demon out there who really didn't like her.
---------------
"Mac, remember that
spell I told you about? The one to bring
back a vampire?"
"Into human
form?" Kirk was trying to meld his
little tornado with water to create a water spout. So far it wasn't working very well.
"That's the
one." Weasel added his energy to
Kirk's. "Try it this way."
Suddenly, the two elements
began to cooperate. Kirk analyzed what
his teacher was doing, smiled as he saw how simple it was. Magic usually was like that. Once you quit trying to force it and got out
of your own way, it often came together with embarrassing ease.
"So, anyway, I may have
a lead on the spell. A collector on
Rigel X died, and he had some very interesting stuff in his collection
including what looks to be a legitimate scroll of the Words of Anatole, which
are supposed to contain that spell, Mac.
I bought three trunk's worth of this guy's stuff. It'll be here soon."
"Great." Kirk tried mixing water and air again on his
own. Voila: perfect water spout.
"Mac, this could give
you your life back."
"Who said I wanted it
back?" But he had a sudden image of
the Enterprise, the view from his chair, the soft, powerful rumble under his
feet.
"I know you. And..."
Weasel sighed. "I may have
glossed over how well I knew Nogura."
Kirk turned to look at him.
"Well, he and I go way
back. I don't mean as buddies; we hate
each other. But we're two powerful
sorcerers and, at times, have to work together."
"Count me out. He killed my friend. Or have you forgotten?"
"We think he killed your
friend. We don't have proof."
Kirk turned away.
"Jim." Weasel touched his arm. "Something's coming. You can feel it. Spock can, too. You think Nogura and I can't tell it's on its
way?"
"What do you think I'm
going to do about it?"
"What you're supposed to
do." Weasel sat down heavily,
letting out a huge sigh. "Nogura
thinks somewhere along the line we took a wrong turn. The universe isn't the way it's supposed to
be. And somehow, you're the key."
Kirk looked down. Something did feel off, had for a long
time. Ever since that night in the park,
when he'd seen Christine slay Wharton, when he'd let her turn him.
"Mac, what if I told you
that the fate of our universe may rest with you? And that we'll need you alive to do what you
need to do?"
"I'd ask if I could have
some of the very nice drugs you're taking."
"Nogura has a
scroll. You're named in it."
Kirk turned back to look at
him. "I'm named in it? For real?"
"For real. And the spell, when I get it--"
"It's an old goddamned
spell. It could be a joke. It could be missing something vital. You want me to let you slay me so you can
'try' to bring me back?"
"I'm not the only one
who will try. Nogura tracked down your
fiery lady friend. She's got some
powerful mojo on her, let me tell you.
Between the three of us."
"Three?"
"Nogura. We need him for this, too."
"Do we?"
Weasel looked down. "I'm not sure. It probably could be done with two. But he wants in and if we don't let him and
he interfered with the work, it could be disastrous."
"Why does he care?"
"I think..."
"What?"
"I think he believes he
can harness the power of the entity for his own use."
"Is that
possible?" Kirk frowned, imagining
Nogura with that much power at his command.
"I don't think so. But he'll probably try anyway."
Kirk sat down on the nearest
stool. "What happens if I don't do
this?"
"I think...I think it's
the end of everything."
Kirk laughed. Even dead and living off blood, the fate of
the universe still rested on him? He
felt something lift inside him, realized he'd shed his ability to ignore
things, his ability to pretend not to care.
He did care. Life did still
matter to him.
He could save the day. Just give him a ship and point him in the
right direction.
"I have to think about
it."
But it was a lie. He didn't have to think about it; he just had
to figure out how to tell Chris what he was going to do. Because, despite his promise--in the most
basic way possible--he was going to leave her.
-------------------------
"You okay?" Christine
asked, leaning down to caress Jim as he sat on the bed, wrapping her arms
around him tightly.
"Sure."
"You're so quiet."
"Just
thinking." He pulled her into his
lap, kissed her soundly.
She kissed him back, heard
footsteps, then felt Emma's hand on her hair.
"I'm going to see
Tolvar," Emma said.
Jim pulled away from
Christine. "Trouble?"
"No. Why?
Are you expecting some?"
He made a face. "Typical headshrinker, turning the
question back on me."
She laughed. "Guilty as charged." She kissed them both, then left.
Christine drew Jim down,
wanting to have him to herself. He
didn't seem to mind, was very busy doing all the things she loved best.
"You're being awfully
generous."
He grinned. "I love you. I want you to feel good." He moved faster. "I want to feel good, too."
She threw her head back,
loving his strength, how much they could both take. The sex was savage, but it touched something
deep within her.
"I love you," she
murmured.
"Chris." He kissed her very gently. "You own my heart, you know that,
right?"
She kissed him back the same
way. "Just as you own mine."
They lay quietly for a long
time, then she pulled away. "I'm
going to go patrol."
He laughed softly. "With your pet slayer?"
"She'd dust you if she
heard you calling her that. But yes,
with Ashley."
"You really like this
girl?"
"I do. And she needs me. It's nice to be needed."
"I need you. Emma needs you."
"Not the same. And you know it."
"I know. Go have fun, then."
She kissed him again and got
up to dress. He had his eyes closed when
she passed him, but he opened them, was staring at her strangely.
"What?"
He shook his head. "Go on.
You're wasting moonlight."
He grinned. His normal, beautiful
grin.
"Copy that,
sir." She hurried out, made very
good time to the cemetery.
Ashley was sitting on a
bench, staring at the sky, her legs tucked up underneath her. As Christine sat down next to her, she
whispered, "How did you know you were ready to die?"
Christine realized the girl
was crying. "What happened?"
Ashley shook her head, as if
it would take too long to explain.
"Ashley, what's
happened?"
"You remember
Billy?"
"Your boyfriend?"
Ashley nodded, cuddling into
her. Christine pulled her close.
"He broke up with
me. He's in love with someone
else." She started to cry. "The only person who really loved me,
and he doesn't want to be with me anymore."
"That's not true. I love you."
"Then make me like
you. I want it to stop."
"The pain doesn't stop
when you become a vampire. In some ways,
it gets worse."
"I don't care. I'm tired of this. No matter what I do, nothing comes out
right."
She fidgeted in Christine's
arms, then the strong smell of fresh, hot blood assailed Christine. She pulled away, saw that Ashley held a
knife, that she'd sliced into her wrist--the right way if you wanted to die.
"Don't turn me,
then. Just let me die."
"I can't let you
die."
"Then help
me!" Ashley looked panic stricken,
she shoved her bleeding wrist to Christine's mouth.
Christine felt her face
change, tried to stop the transformation and couldn't. Ashley pressed her flesh to Christine's lips;
warm, slayer-rich blood flowed over them.
She drank. For one moment, Christine drank. Then she pushed the girl's wrist away,
ripping at her own shirt to make a bandage.
"Stop it,
Christine. I want you to drain me."
"Shut up." She tightened the bandage, dragged the girl
to her feet. "He's not worth this. Nothing is worth this."
Ashley managed to dig in her
heels as Christine tried to pull her in the direction of the nearest emergency
medical facility.
"Ashley, I won't let you
die."
"Then turn me. I want to be like you."
"No, you
don't." Christine felt her face go
back to normal. "You never want to
be like me."
Suddenly, she heard clapping
from behind her. Heard a familiar voice
say, "Bravo, pet."
She turned, saw Spike
standing in the trees. He grinned at
her, a look full of approval.
"What the...?"
"I'd say she passed,
Spike," Ashley said, catching the regenerator he tossed her. She looked at Christine. "It felt good when you fed. Now I understand why people don't fight
harder. And why some freaks even pay to
have it done."
"You all right,
love?" Spike moved closer to
Christine. "You look a little the
worse for wear."
Ashley studied her, all
traces of the teenager suddenly gone, and Christine realized she was probably
much older than she looked.
"You're Billy," she
said to Spike.
"I am. And I'm not her fella, if that's what you're
thinking."
"That's not what I'm
thinking." She struck him hard,
knocking him away from her. "This
was a test? You two were testing
me?"
"'Fraid so," Ashley
said with a grin. "No hard
feelings, 'kay?" She stuck her hand
out as if to shake.
Christine knocked her halfway
across the grass.
"Hey!" The girl was up and at her, fists and legs
flying hard and fast.
But not as hard and fast as
Christine's. She soon had Ashley pinned.
Ashley stared up at her, not
struggling, and no remorse in her eyes.
"I played you, Christine.
Did you really fall for my hero-worship routine? Do you think I'd worship a loser like
you?"
Christine grabbed Ashley by
the throat. One good twist and the
taunting voice would be silenced forever.
One. Good.
Twist.
She let go of Ashley, pushing
herself to her feet, taking a step, then another. The third step took her into a grave marker,
and she tripped, landing heavily. Tears
blinded her, and she could barely make out Spike crouching down in front of
her.
"Shhh, pet. It's okay now. No more tests."
Strong, warm arms surrounded
her. "I'm sorry, Christine. We had to know. Hunger and compassion was one thing to
triumph over, anger was another."
"You passed, love. You passed." Spike sounded very relieved.
"Why?"
"Because I've been a
vampire too long to not know that most of us turn out bad. Turn out evil. I love you, but I had to make sure you could
be trusted."
"So you recruited
her?"
"She freelances with
Angel Investigations." He smiled
gently. "I knew you wouldn't be
able to resist a kid. A baby sister, as
it were."
Ashley let go of her, said
gently, "You're not a loser."
Christine wiped at her
eyes. "Yes, I am. Weak.
A coward. Even if I passed, I
know you think that. Both of
you." Christine felt exhausted, as
if she was human again and had pulled triple shifts in sickbay.
"Pet?"
"I have to
go." She touched Ashley's golden
hair. "I wanted to believe you
needed me."
"I know."
"I'll have to ask my
counselor what that says about me."
She laughed, and the sound was slightly hysterical. Maybe she wouldn't tell Emma. Maybe she wouldn't say anything about this to
anyone. She turned, could tell that both
Spike and Ashley were moving toward her.
"Don't."
They kept coming.
Her face changed, and she
roared in a way she never had before.
They both stopped.
"Don't come near
me. Don't touch me." She growled as she backed away. "I never want to see either of you
again."
"Christine. Love."
"Damn your test,
Spike. And damn you." She hurried off, trying not to cry, pushing
the hurt down behind a veneer of not caring.
Jim was still in bed when she
came in. She undressed slowly,
desperately needing the solace of lying next to him.
"Chris?"
"Hmmm?"
"I need to tell you
something."
She turned slowly. One look at his face told her she wasn't
going to like what he had to say.
"What is it?"
"Remember that spell
Weasel mentioned?"
She shook her head, but she
did remember it. The spell that would
restore a dead vampire's humanity.
"Weasel thought it was
lost."
She buried her head in the
pillow between them. "But it's
not?"
"Not anymore." He seemed to see her shut down even more,
said quickly, "This has to do with the Presence Spock felt. I'm needed.
The human me is needed."
"Weasel can do the
spell?"
He nodded, then looked down.
"All by himself?"
There was silence.
"Jim?"
"Alma, too. And probably Nogura."
"Oh."
"I'm needed,
Chris."
And the fact that she needed
him didn't matter?
She pushed herself off the
bed.
"Chris."
She held up a hand; he didn't
try to stop her as she walked out of the apartment. She wandered the town, passing the piers but
not turning in, even though part of her was crying for the comfort Emma could
bring.
She walked more, never
stopping, and finally found herself near the Vulcan Embassy. She stared up at it, wondering what Spock was
doing. Did he know that Jim was trying
to get back to him?
"Chris." She heard footsteps, and then Jim's arms
slipped around her, pulling her away from the gates. "I'm not leaving you."
"Yes, you are." She turned, pressing herself against him.
"No, love. No."
He kissed her fiercely. "If
it works for me, then we'll do you next.
The way Weasel explained it, he can't do more than one vampire at a
time. And it will take time between
spells."
"And while I'm waiting,
you'll go find this Presence?"
He nodded.
"How convenient this
timing is."
"Don't." He pulled her into the shadows of a
neighboring house, thrust her up against a wall. "Don't act like I'm deserting
you." He took her fiercely. Vampire style. Something he'd never do once he was human
again.
"You can have Alma again
once you're human."
"Chris, I don't want
Alma."
"Maybe you should? Maybe I'll just drag you down, no matter what
life I'm living?" She clung to him,
riding him until they both found completion.
"Stop crying,
Chris. It'll be okay. You'll see."
She stroked his hair. "We'll see the sun again?"
"Yes, we'll see the sun
again. Together." He kissed her so sweetly she knew he meant
it.
She just had a very hard time
believing it.
-----------------
Spock took a seat in Nogura's
office, curious as to why he had been called back. Admiral Ciani sat down next to him. Four other chairs had been placed around the
room, three together and one away, near the window.
Spock was surprised to see
Alma enter and take the seat by the window.
She gave him a friendly smile.
"Hello. It's good to see you
again."
He nodded. Unsure if he felt the same way. This demon was tied up in everything he'd
lost. He knew it was illogical to blame
her, yet he did. Her and her orb.
Spock glanced at Ciani, who
smiled slightly and said, "This should be fun."
Jim walked in next, followed
by Christine and a man Spock had never seen.
Nogura followed before
introductions could be made. "Well," he said, with a triumphant
grin, "look at us all here in one room.
Making nice like big boys and girls."
Christine looked down; she
seemed unusually subdued.
"Let's not waste
time," Nogura said. "We have
something headed our way, and the right man for the job is currently
indisposed."
Spock saw Jim take
Christine's hand in his and squeeze it.
"Now, thanks to the work
of others in this room"--Nogura shot the stranger a look Spock couldn't
read--"this indisposition doesn't have to be a permanent condition."
Spock frowned slightly, not
understanding what was going on, but feeling sure everyone else did by the
looks on their faces.
Nogura turned to Alma. "You'll assist us, of course?"
Alma nodded but didn't look
at Jim or Christine.
"You, too, old
friend?" Nogura asked the stranger, putting a sarcastic spin on the world
"friend."
"If Jim wants this, I'll
help."
"Yes. Does Jim want this?" Nogura looked at the man in question.
Jim nodded, and Christine
looked away. Spock realized that she didn't
want this. And the fact that Jim did was
hurting her.
The idea of her hurting made Spock
feel...good.
"Then we go
tomorrow," Nogura said, rubbing his hands together. "We'll have to do it at your motel by
default, I guess."
The stranger nodded.
"Yes. Very inconvenient but necessary." Nogura turned to Jim. "I'll make your death as painless as
possible."
"No. You won't." He looked at Christine. "Chris will."
They'd obviously discussed
this, because she nodded, not looking at anyone, staring down at her hand
clasped in Jim's.
Spock felt emotions buffeting
him from deep inside the place he'd try to purge at Gol. He still felt satisfaction that she was
hurting, but he also felt some form of compassion. And hurt.
Hurt that she loved Jim this much, when she didn't appear to love Spock
anymore at all.
He was also still very
confused. She was going to kill Jim?
Nogura smiled at Spock. "This must be quite the puzzle for
you. Trust me when I say you'll soon
have your old friend back."
Spock did not correct him,
even if Jim also looked uncomfortable with the word "friend" being
used to apply to the two of them.
Nogura nodded to Ciani. "Please show our guests out, Lori."
Spock followed the others
out. Alma slipped past them and hurried
away, but Jim turned to him.
"So," he said,
"you're getting what you wanted. A
ride out to the big unknown thing."
"I appear to be lacking
some fundamental information."
The stranger nodded. "It's simple. You need Jim alive, and there's a spell that
can restore a vampire's humanity."
"A dead vampire's
humanity," Christine said softly.
"And you will kill
him?" Spock asked.
She nodded, meeting his eyes.
"And if the spell does
not work?"
"Then I stay dead, and
one of you better have strong words for whoever screwed up the
spell." Jim grinned.
"Don't. Don't joke." Christine stalked away.
"You are leaving
her?" Spock asked.
"Not quite," the
stranger said. "By the time you
return, I'll be ready to do the spell on her."
"Why wait?"
"Magic works on its own
timetable. Some of the elements of the
spell need to refresh after the drain Jim's transformation will put on
them. Not to mention the strain on those
of us doing the spell." He glanced
at Jim. "But we'll change her. These two will be together."
Jim nodded. "She's my life, Spock."
"Yes, she was once mine,
as well." Spock met his angry look
with a bland one. At least the others
did not have to know he was feeling as much as he was. "And my presence at this resurrection is
required why?"
Jim looked
uncomfortable. "No one is quite
sure what shape I'll come back in. I may
need some help remembering things."
"A meld?"
"The quickest trip down
memory lane that I know of. Will you be
able to do that?"
The thought of melding with
Jim left Spock uneasy, so he thought of the Presence, of the unfeeling beauty
of its call.
"Yes," he
said. "I will be able to do
that."
---------------
The torches in Weasel's
workroom reminded Christine of the torches on the field of Sekanik on Vega
Hydra, of that night she'd lost everything to the Gotterdammerung and Alma's
cursed orb. As she took her place in
front of Jim, she swallowed hard.
There was something horribly
fitting about the memory of Vega Hydra overlaying on what she was about to
do. She'd almost staked Jim then, when
he'd been under Anacost's thrall. She'd
been prepared to kill him.
Now...now, she could barely
lift the stake.
He met her eyes, love shining
out of his. A sad, desperate love that
had taken possession of him as they'd walked home last night, as he'd made love
to her and Emma.
Emma, who had looked at her
with such pity as Christine had shoved her stake into her pocket and followed
him out of the door. Emma, who would be
her only solace once Jim was gone, and maybe even once he got back. Emma, who was not here, but should be, if
only because Christine needed someone on her side.
"I may not remember you
at first," Jim had told her as they'd walked to the motel.
"I'll always love
you," he said now.
Which was truth? Both?
Neither?
"If you can't do it, let
one of us. We're losing precious
time." Alma said it gently, but
Christine imagined there was a fierce satisfaction under the words. Alma believed Jim would be okay. Especially, once he was away from
Christine.
"Chris, if you can't,
it's all right." Jim nodded, his
look tender.
"I can." She raised the stake.
He closed his eyes, and she
brought the stake down, saying, "I love you," as she struck. The stake plunged into him, and she let it
go.
Jim's eyes flashed open, he
touched her hand, said, "I love y--"
He was dust.
Christine felt as if the
ground tilted suddenly to the left, and she nearly fell, but strong arms caught
her.
"It'll be all
right," Weasel murmured.
"We'll get him back."
She'd forgotten about Weasel,
that he might be on her side.
"And so it begins,"
Nogura said, turning to the empty cage behind him. He nodded at Lori, and she snapped her
fingers.
Five men--werewolves, no
doubt--came down the stairs, each leading a vampire. There were four females and one male, and
they all acted dazed. Christine realized
they were under some kind of spell that kept them docile. They were chained to the cage, equally
spaced, in roughly the shape of a pentagram, she realized. Then
she looked at the floor, where she thought she saw the ghostly image of a
pentagram painted on it, matching the vampire's positions.
Christine had noticed a downturn
in the vampire population but had thought that Spike and Ashley had cleaned up
on their way out of town. Now, she
realized it must have been Nogura.
Preparing for this.
She glanced at Weasel. He must have told Nogura what was
needed. She backed away from him.
"Toots?" Weasel frowned, as he pulled on a black robe. "Christine?"
"Go do your
spell." She looked down. "It better work," she said under
her breath, and saw both Lori and Spock look at her. But Weasel didn't appear to hear her; he went
on about his business, pulling the scroll out and approaching the cage as
Nogura and Alma pulled on brown monk's robes and started to chant something low
and eerie.
The vampires suddenly woke
from their stupors. They began to
struggle, to growl. They were terrified,
Christine realized. Did the spell need
that?
Weasel nodded at the other
two, and together they said, "We have prepared a holy place in the
darkness and anointed it with oil. We
have taken the blood of the living and gathered together the living dead."
Christine realized she could
smell blood--human blood--from somewhere in the room. And oils.
Exotic, mystical-smelling oils.
Weasel opened the
scroll. "As it was written, they
shall prepare the way and the very gates of hell shall open."
Nogura and Alma walked around
the vampires as Weasel spoke, swinging incense censers. The vampires panicked, but they could not
break the chains holding them to the cage.
"That which is above
shall tremble," Weasel read, "for that which is below shall
arise. And the world shall know the
beast, and the beast shall know the world."
What in god's name were they
bringing back? What did any of this have
to do with Jim? Christine had a sudden
urge to stop the ritual, but she couldn't bring herself to move. What if this worked and Jim was
restored? How could she stop that?
She closed her eyes, heard Weasel
say, "Five are without breath," then the other two stopped walking. She opened her eyes, saw that Nogura and Alma
stood shoulder to shoulder, holding the chains of the censor taut in front of
them. They answered, "Yet they
live."
Weasel stopped in front of
the male vampire. "Five are without
time."
The other two said, "Yet
they live."
He stopped in front of one of
the females. "Five are without
soul."
"Yet they live."
He moved again. "Five are without sun."
"Yet they live."
"Five are dead."
"Yet they live."
Weasel switched to Latin, speaking it so quickly and with such a strange accent
that Christine could not make it out.
Except something about dead and alive.
That was good, wasn't it? Jim
alive. Once dead.
A rumbling started; the vampires
looked around them, going unnaturally still.
Weasel yelled, one word, three times, then two more. And the vampires collapsed into dust, their
remains blowing as if caught in a whirlwind, going faster and faster around the
cage. The dust was suddenly sucked into
the cage, and a bright light came out, knocking everyone away. Weasel took the brunt of it, was carried hard
into Christine, who caught him and held him as they were blown back into the
wall.
There was only silence in the
room. And then a quiet, whimpering
started from inside the cage.
Christine started toward it,
was gripped by a hand that burned. She
started to fight off Alma's grip, but the demon revved up the heat.
"Not now. You'll only confuse him."
"He needs me." She tried to pull away again. "He loves me."
"Fight me, and I will
make sure there is nothing of you left to love.
And you know I can." Alma's
hands were melting the fabric of Christine's shirt into her arm.
She stopped struggling.
Ciani shot her what almost
looked like a pitying look. "The
rest is up to us now. You've done your
part." Her gaze included Alma and
Weasel in the ranks of those who were no longer necessary.
Nogura had already called
down the werewolves, was moving up the stairs behind them and the cage. Lori hurried to join them.
Weasel stood tall as they
left, but as soon as they were gone, he staggered. Christine caught him and helped him to a
seat.
Alma seemed weak, too. Christine fingered her burned skin and let the
demon find a chair on her own.
"He'll be where he
belongs, and you know it." Alma sat
gingerly. "In space."
Christine didn't answer,
could only think about what it had felt like to sink her stake into the heart
of the man she loved. "We don't
know if that was him in there." But
even as she said it, she caught a whiff of him.
The beloved scent--only afraid, now.
And changed. Not just from
vampire to human. Maybe even more
fundamentally. What if this Jim didn't
love her?
Alma got up and walked slowly
to the staircase, then she turned and stared at Christine.
"What?"
"I'm just imagining the
woman you once were. The one who would
have staked Jim rather than let Anacost have him. That woman would never have turned him."
"That woman died
destroying your orb."
"I think it's a shame
that's not literally true. Imagine how
different all our lives would have been if you'd just had the grace to perish
in that battle." Before Christine
could answer, Alma turned and walked up the stairs.
Christine looked at
Weasel. "Is she wrong?"
"Mac loves you. Hold onto that."
"You didn't answer my
question." She turned, studying the
things in his workroom. Things she
didn't understand, even though this was her world. Things Jim did understand, even though this
wasn't his world. "It would have
been better; she's not wrong."
"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean she's right about
everything. I like you, Christine. And if you were someone who should have died,
I don't think I would. So there's
something in you worth saving. Worth living
for." He touched her shoulder. "The spell worked. We'll do it again soon. And you'll be breathing air again and getting
a suntan." He rubbed his back. "I've just got to prepare for that
recoil."
She watched him put things
away, moved to help him. "What if
he doesn't love me now?"
"He loved you in bumpy
face, he'll love you any old way, toots."
He took her by the arms, pointed her toward the stairs. "Go home. Rest.
Don't obsess over this."
She nodded and walked out of
his workroom, each step up the stairs a battle won. She opened the door of the room, saw Emma
waiting for her.
"Is he?"
Christine shrugged. "He's alive. I have no idea what else he is." She started to cry.
Emma wrapped her in strong
arms, her cool lips soothing away the tears.
"Come, my dearest. Let's go
home." And she led Christine back
to the apartment.
An apartment that was only
half a home now that Jim wasn't in it.
--------------------
Spock sat on a stool far from
the cage and watched Ciani as she murmured to the man inside. Periodically, he
would fling himself against the bars, growling, and she would back up a
bit. Then she would start again. Spock wondered if she was intoning some kind
of spell. He couldn't make out many
words--a few Latin phrases and what sounded like "Kirsu." He was unsure what that was, although it
seemed to jar a memory.
She finally backed away,
taking a chair near Spock's stool.
"Are you sure that is
Jim?"
"It's Jim." She sounded a little angry.
"Is he sane?"
"Too early to tell." She smiled at him, the expression mean. "Unless you'd like to go meld with him
and find out?"
The man in the cage snarled.
"I believe a meld would
be premature."
"Coward." Her lip pulled up, and he could imagine it as
a wolfish sneer.
"You do not care for me,
do you, Admiral?"
She seemed surprised at the
question. He realized she had thought he
would not notice her expression, or perhaps she was not even aware she had made
it.
"I am upset that this
spell was required, Commander Spock."
His title, restored after the
spell worked, sounded odd. It was the life
he'd given up surrounding him again, suffocating him. Then he realized he actually was having
difficulty breathing.
He glanced at Ciani. Her eyes had gone black, and she was staring
at him intently. He told himself to
relax, that she could not be affecting his body's autonomic responses. But it only became harder to breathe.
Ciani leaned closer. "Jim is important to me. So is Christine. They have something I want very badly. Walk carefully around them,
Commander." Her eyes faded to
brown, and he could breathe again.
"What would Admiral
Nogura think of your behavior?"
She smiled, an utterly
fearless smile. "The admiral is
well aware of my actions. His interest
in Jim and Jim's woman mirror my own."
Spock knew she'd chosen to
phrase it that way to anger him.
"Why am I here if you
dislike and distrust me to such an extent?"
"Because the prophecy
said you must be."
The growling from the cage
grew louder, then it abruptly stopped.
"Chris?" It was Jim's voice. Lost and small, but unmistakably his
voice--calling for the woman who had been Spock's wife.
Anger boiled up inside Spock,
and he let the pressure off slowly, as if he were one of his mother's tea
kettles.
"Chris?" Jim's voice was stronger.
Ciani moved to the cage. "She's not here right now, Jim. There's something you have to do on your
ship, and then you can see her again."
"My ship?" Jim's voice rose at the end. A note of surprise. Of joy.
"Yes, your ship, Jim. Do you remember what you have to do?"
There was a long silence,
then Jim moved into the light, parts of him showing through the barred windows
set into the sturdy wooden cage. He was
naked, covered with sweat, and shivering.
But he looked at Ciani and then he turned to meet Spock's eyes. There was confusion in his expression.
"Jim, do you
remember?" Ciani asked gently.
"Stop that thing that's
coming. Turn Chris back." He looked at Ciani, grabbed her fingers where
they rested on a bar. His eyes flickered
to Spock, then away. "He hates
me. Don't make me go with him."
He sounded like a child, like
Spock's young human cousins had sounded when his mother and aunt had left him
alone with them as a babysitter.
"It's all right,
Jim. He won't hurt you." She stroked his fingers with her free
hand. "You're all right. I'll take
care of you."
"Take care of
Chris."
"Chris is fine."
"Make sure?" He sounded panicked, and Spock wondered what
he thought might happen to Christine.
Ciani nodded. "I will."
Jim yawned, then he shuddered
again. Ciani reached behind her,
snagging a blanket and some clothes. She
opened a small door in the cage, pushed them through. "Here."
He dressed, hiding himself in
the dark.
"Now, rest," she
said, and Spock heard the sounds of rustling as if Jim was bedding down. Then there was only silence, followed by the
deep breathing of exhausted sleep from inside the cage.
"Next time he wakes up,
explain the mission to him. Keep at it
till he's his old self." She got
up.
"You are not
staying?"
She shook her head. "I have a promise to keep, but I'll be
back." She smiled at the cage, but
it was a smile Spock could not read.
Then she was gone, and he settled in to wait for Jim to wake up.
------------------------
Christine and Emma sat on the
hillside overlooking Nogura's house.
They moved closer, but Christine was afraid to get too close to the
gates. She remembered that the mages, or
whatever she'd seen that night Jim had brought her to the party for Carl, had
patrolled the gate area.
"You two are
broadcasting for all you're worth," a sultry voice said in her ear.
Christine didn't stop to
think; she launched herself at Lori, throwing her back into the bushes, trying
to make her stop--laughing?
"God almighty, Chapel. You have to take the prize as the overreaction
queen." Lori rolled gracefully
away, her wolf evident in the way she crawled over to Emma, sitting next to
her. "You must have your work cut
out for you. I assume you're still her
watcher?" She sniffed and then
grinned. "Watcher. Teacher.
Lover. My, my, does Jim
know?"
"Yes," Emma said
before Christine could tell Lori where to shove the question.
"And he's okay with
it?" Her eyebrows went way up. "Oh, he's more than okay. He's a participant, isn't he?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I'm very put out. He turned down my offer of three in
bed."
"And he'd do it
again," Christine muttered. Then
she forced herself to look Lori square in the face. "Is Jim all right?"
"Took you long enough to
ask that." Lori leaned up against
her. "His first coherent thoughts
were of you, darling."
Christine glanced at her,
sure she was bring mocked.
Holding a hand up, Lori
looked serious for once. "His first
word was Chris." Her seriousness
melted, the mocking back. "I just
assumed he meant you."
"He meant her," Emma said evenly, as
if trying to dissolve some of the tension that had risen.
"So, see. Nothing to worry about."
"How is he,
really?" Emma asked.
"I think he'll be
fine. Not right at this minute, but it shouldn't
take him long to come around. Jim's a
survivor. Very resilient. He'd make a fascinating case study--you know
he survived Kodos's massacre, right?"
Lori studied Emma. "Does it
bother you that he didn't call out your name?
I believe that would bother me. A
lot."
Emma gave her the look of a
shrink who knows she's being played with by a patient. But Christine suddenly wondered: did Emma mind? Was Emma in love with Jim? Or was she just fond of the sex and of the man,
too? Fond, but not in love.
"You probably shouldn't
be out here," Lori said, looking at them both. "In fact, I'd lay low if I were
you. That fire demon is not a fan of
yours, Christine. And, for what it's
worth, I don't think she's quite stable."
She smiled at Emma. "I'm an
armchair psychologist. Have to be, being
alpha and all. There's a lot of
responsibility that comes with that role.
At any rate, I'd love to hear your professional opinion of Christine's
rival."
"Christine has no
rival. Not where Jim's
concerned." Emma said it
immediately, as if she did not have to think about it.
"Why do you care about
all this?" Christine asked Lori.
"You have something we
need, remember?"
"If I ever had it, I
lost it when I was turned."
"Well, then you can find
it again--when you're turned back."
Lori looked at Emma. "Tell
me, Emma, do you want to be turned back?"
She leaned in, as if what she had to say was confidential, but Christine
could hear every word. She knew Lori was
aware that she could. "The scroll
said that the spell would put you back exactly as you were. So...if you were sick..."
Emma looked away.
Lori smiled. "I'm thinking the communal bed will not be
so communal when your two lovers aren't undead, anymore."
"Stop it." Christine took Emma's arm. "We'll deal with that when we get to
it."
"Hey, look on the bright
side," Lori said as she rose gracefully.
"Maybe Jim and Spock will fail, this Presence will kill us all, and
Emma won't have to watch the two people she loves most turn their backs on her."
Christine eyed Lori. The woman had lost all trace of the
submissiveness she'd shown when Christine and Jim had first been turned.
Lori met her eyes; she seemed
to know what Christine was thinking.
"Tables are turned, sweetheart. Now, you need me. So you play real nice with the big bad wolf,
and I won't accidentally misplace the changing spell."
"Bitch," Emma said.
"Good call," Lori
said with a grin. Then she slipped away
into the woods.
"What now?" Emma
asked.
"We go home. We lay low." Christine rose, pulled her up and held her
close. "I love you, Emma. I won't lose you. We'll figure our way as we go, I
promise."
Emma nodded, but she didn't
look convinced.
----------------------------
Emma woke to the smell of
smoke. Fire was licking the walls of one
corner of their apartment.
"Christine. Wake up!"
Christine jerked awake. "Oh, shit."
They grabbed the blanket off
the bed, beat out the flames as best they could, then waited to see if the fire
would start anywhere else.
Emma examined the rocking
chair--her favorite piece of furniture--and the space around it. The chair was blackened and still smoked a
little. The walls, despite having had
flames crawling all over them, was untouched.
"This isn't normal fire."
"Magic. She's playing with us." Christine eyed the light that spilled around
the curtains.
Emma followed her gaze. Daylight.
Not the time to run out of the apartment, but they might have no choice
if Alma set more of their place on fire.
"She hates you that much?"
"Or she loves Jim that
much." Christine began to dig out
boxes the previous resident had piled in one corner and they'd never bothered
to throw out. "Guess the
bitch-demon doesn't know all, eh?"
The last box moved revealed a door.
Emma smiled. "The sewers?" The she realized Christine was paler than
normal. "Oh."
"There's no way she
knows that about me. I'm willing to bet
she doesn't know this place came with its own escape hatch, either. So let's take advantage of all that ignorance
and get the hell out of here."
"And go where?"
"Weasel's. He can protect us until Jim gets
back." Not _if_ he came back. Christine never said if, but Emma knew she
was afraid that Jim wouldn't come back from this mission. Or worse, that he would, but wouldn't want
them, anymore.
"Emma," Christine
was pulling some things together.
"Grab what you need and let's go."
What she needed? Emma didn't need anything except blood to
drink and Christine.
And not Jim? As she grabbed her stuff, Emma realized that,
while she did miss Jim, she was all right without him. She wasn't sure she'd be all right without
Christine.
Christine hovered at the door
to the sewers.
"Do you want me to go
first?" Emma asked.
"Needs must when the
fire-demon drives." Christine
grinned bravely, but she closed her eyes before crawling through the door.
Emma followed her and, once
she was through the opening, she found she could stand. She pulled Christine to her feet. "You okay?"
Christine opened her eyes
slowly. Emma saw raw panic, and then
Christine seemed to fight the feeling down by will alone.
"Beats being set on
fire," Christine said, and set out at an ambitiously brisk pace.
"Do you have any idea
where you're going?"
"I have an excellent
sense of direction. We just head north
and then west."
North was no problem. They made good time. But when they turned to head west, they ran
into a nest of vamps.
"Well, well, well,"
a tall redhead walked toward them.
"Why do I think you really didn't mean to run into us,
Slayer?"
The other vamps--eight, in all--fanned out, encircling them.
"Well, you're
right. I really didn't. But let's just call it a draw, okay? We go our way; you go yours."
"And why would we do
that?"
"Because I've had a bad week,"
Christine said.
The redhead smirked. "You're having an even worse one. I don't see a stake." Her face changed, and she moved closer to
Christine.
"I don't need a
stake." Christine's face didn't
change, and she moved so fast, Emma almost couldn’t track her hand as she drew
it back, then, holding her fingers out straight, shoved them like a knife
through the woman's throat. She twisted
her hand, pulled out a rather large piece of what had to be the vampire's
spinal column.
The vampire's head fell
forward, and Christine punched out again, knocking her skull back, tearing the
skin. As the head separated from the
body, the vampire collapsed into dust.
Christine looked at the
others. "Now. Who else wants to discuss my bad week?" She looked ready for a fight--a large and dusty
one.
The other vampires fled.
Emma swallowed. "I didn't know you could do that."
"Neither did I. But all this extra strength better be good
for something." Her smile was grim. "Let's go."
After a few false starts,
they came up in a shadowed alley behind the motel and followed the shade into
Weasel's reception.
He barely looked at
them. "Let me guess, you came for
the ambiance?"
"And for the smoke-free
rooms," Emma said.
He grinned at her, the look
lighting up his face. "Never piss
off a fire demon."
"Now you tell
me." Christine paced the little
office.
"He's fine, toots."
"You know that I hate
that name." She stopped pacing,
stared over the counter at him. "Do
you know he's fine or do you just hope he's fine?"
"I know. Just got this message earlier today, was
gonna bring it by once the sun went down."
He pushed over a portable comm unit.
Jim's face was frozen on the screen, and Christine hit play. He came to life, and Emma imagined that
Christine's heart almost started beating again at the sight of him.
"Weasel," Jim said,
"Get this message to Chris. Tell
her I'm fine. Tell her I love
her." He frowned, then smiled. "Hell, give the damn comm unit to her,
and I'll tell her myself."
Christine smiled and ran her
finger over his face.
"I'll be home
soon," he said. "I love
you."
Emma turned away.
"Why don't you take that
down to room sixteen, Christine?" Weasel said. "Play it a few hundred times?"
She nodded, didn't wait for
Emma as she took the key to the room and hurried off down a shadowed walkway.
Once she was gone, Weasel
smiled sadly at Emma. "You're in a
strange position, aren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow; had
Jim told him?
He sat on the counter. "I don't have to be psychic to read
pain. And confusion. I'm a good
listener."
She sat down in one of the
chairs in the shade, but didn't know what to say.
"Of course, to be a good
listener, I gotta have someone who actually talks."
She smiled. "He loves her. She loves him. It's quite simple. And quite lovely."
"I'd agree with that
assessment." He sighed. "So what's wrong with this
picture?" He held up a finger. "Jim." Another finger went up. "Christine." Then a third finger joined them.
"You."
She looked down. "There's a reason it's called a third
wheel."
"There's also a reason
it's called a menage a trois. Three's
sort of assumed, but it doesn't automatically mean bad. But maybe for you it does? Do you think you're in the way?"
"Did you hear my name
mentioned in that comm?"
"Nope. Sure didn't."
"Well, there you have
it." She stretched, as if she
didn't care.
"Do you love them?"
She nodded. In all the world, they were the only things
she did love.
"Do you think they love
you?"
She nodded. "But not the way they love each
other." She indulged herself, took
a breath she did not need and let it out in a long sigh. "It doesn't matter. They'll be human soon. And I won't." At his look, she shook her
head. "I can't go back to being
sick. Being made alive again, only so I
can die? I don't want that."
"No?"
"No." She nodded.
The future suddenly seemed clear.
"Once you do the spell to make her human again--once I know she's
all right--I'm going to leave them."
"Where will you
go?"
"London, probably. Finish what David started, but in my own
way. Not his." She nodded.
Yes, that was a good plan. Jim
and Christine would be fine without her.
And she'd survive without
them.
-------------------------
The halls of Uhura's
apartment seemed unnaturally bright after the gloom of their basement and the
subdued lighting at Weasel's. Christine
hurried along, hoping not to run into anyone she knew. She rounded a corner, saw Uhura's door and
pushed the chime.
The door slid open; Uhura
stood on her side of it, staring at Christine thoughtfully.
"Can I come in?"
Christine asked.
"No."
"Okay."
They stood and stared at each
other some more.
"You were the one who
wanted us to talk, Ny."
"Yes, I was. And we can talk out here. You on that side, me on this one."
"You wanted to help Jim
follow someone, but you won't even invite me in?"
"Him, I trust."
The words hurt; Christine
thought Ny intended them to.
"I can explain."
"Yes, please explain how
this happened. Because the last time I
saw you was at your graduation. What
should have been the happiest night of your life."
"It wasn't."
Uhura folded her arms over
her chest. "So what the hell
happened?"
"It was Jim...I mean he
and I...I wanted, but he wouldn't."
"You mean to tell me this was over a guy?" Uhura's eyebrow lifted slowly.
"Not any guy. It was Jim. And I just gave--" She looked down.
"You gave up. Just say it."
"I gave up,"
Christine mumbled.
"I am so angry at you
right now."
Christine turned to go.
"That's right. Run away again."
Christine stopped, slowly
turning to look at Uhura. "What do
you want from me?"
"I want my friend
back. The nice, solid one."
"The one who wasn't a
slayer?"
Uhura looked away. "Maybe."
"That Christine never
existed. She was just a role I
played."
Uhura looked stung. "Are you saying being my friend was just
an act?"
"Of course not." Christine stared at her helplessly; words
were not working well. "I miss you,
Ny."
Uhura just nodded, but her
grim look softened somewhat.
"I messed up."
"That's the
understatement of the year."
Uhura's expression changed again, anger sparking. "And you took him with you. How could you?"
"He wanted me to."
Uhura shook her head, but
Christine noticed that, despite her disgusted look, her friend didn't
contradict her.
"Look, you'll be up on
the Enterprise soon, Ny. And so will
he. I--I gave him back to you."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning he's human
again. They won't let me see him, but he
is human. And he'll be on the Enterprise
again. He and Spock both."
"I don't
understand."
"I know. But it's true. He's alive." There was a long uncomfortable silence. "I still slay things," Christine finally
said, trying to find something to break the chill.
"Evil things?"
"No, nuns and candy
stripers. Of course, evil things."
"Do you want a commendation? Maybe a parade in your honor?"
"No. But it should count for something. Shouldn't it?"
When Uhura didn't answer,
Christine asked, "When did you get to be so unforgiving?"
"Maybe when you
disappeared again. I thought you were
dead, and I couldn't help you. And now
it turns out it's worse. Because you
took someone else with you, too."
Christine decided this was
not the time to bring up Emma.
"He's human again, Ny."
"I heard you the first
time. And if it's true, why do I have
such a hard time believing it was in any way your idea?"
Christine felt the sting but
bit back her anger. "It's been
swell, Ny. Catching up like this. The warmth--it's overwhelming. I can see why we're such solid friends." She thought this time she stung Uhura. "I do miss you, Ny."
"I miss you,
too." Uhura hit a button, and the
door slid shut between them.
"Good luck out
there," Christine said to the closed door.
Then she turned and fled from the too-bright building, only relaxing
once she was safely back in the shadows.
---------------------------
Kirk stared out the
viewscreen. There was nothing left of
V'ger, Decker, or Ilia. Just the
familiar expanse of open space. His
space, on his ship.
With his friend by his side.
"We did it," he
murmured to Spock.
"Yes. We did."
Spock smiled. A true, happy
smile. No trace of what they'd been
through in it. No sign of the anger and
betrayal.
But Kirk had a feeling they were still there.
Lurking. Waiting for the
post-V'ger-meld euphoria to wear off--and one woman to bring them all screaming
back.
"I think V'ger
understands now, Jim. The joy of
union." He met Kirk's eyes. "The pain of loss. All of that is there for him in Decker. More than knowledge. It understands feelings."
This simple feeling. Wasn't that how Spock put it? Their friendship. Spock wanted it back. Kirk did, too. But not if it meant giving up Chris.
He turned to look around the
bridge. Most of the crew didn't know he'd
been a vampire or what he'd done to survive.
Only Uhura and Spock. And Bones,
too, because Uhura had told him. But
he'd been off planet, and somehow, not seeing it with his own eyes, McCoy
didn't seem as bothered.
Kirk scented the air as if he
still was a vampire, but he could no longer smell their blood. Although Anacost's legacy still
lingered. He'd been bitten before he was
turned. So that was restored, too. He still had vampire blood in him, even if it
was dilute.
He still, in some ways,
probably craved the night. He knew he
still craved Chris.
But he was human again. And sadly lacking in the magic
department.
"It will come
back," Lori had told him.
"It's not gone, just sleeping, because of the trauma of death and
rebirth."
It had probably been a good
thing that it wasn't working. Who knew how
V'ger would have reacted if he'd tried something magical on it?
"Are you all
right," Spock asked softly.
Kirk met his eyes. "Let's walk." He moved to the doors, calling out,
"Mister Sulu, you have the con."
"Aye, sir."
Spock followed him onto the lift. "You wish to discuss Christine?"
"No flies on
you." Horrible expression. Flies for a dead man. Kirk had died twice--both times by Chris's
hand.
"I...I still have
feelings for her, Jim."
Great. "Well, I think it goes without saying
that I also have feelings for her.
Strong feelings."
"She loves
you." Spock sounded morose.
"Yes. She does." Kirk thought of Emma. How the hell were they going to factor her
into the equation? Chris would be
okay--she'd still have her slayer strength after the spell--but would he
survive sex with Emma if he was only mortal?
The love bites alone...
"Christine will choose
you. I will have to come to terms with
that." Spock sighed. Loudly.
"You stole her from me in so many ways, Jim. If you had just told me where she was."
Kirk felt frustration fill
him, turned, and snapped. "She was
on Earth, Spock. Studying goddamned
medicine. How hard did you look for
her?"
Spock looked stunned. "Are you saying I did not wish to find
her?" By his tone, it was clear
that this would be a stupid thing to say.
"Of course
not." Although Kirk thought he
probably was. Since being a vampire, he
felt as if his ability for self-deception had fallen away from him. He'd seen what he was, couldn't hide from
it. And he saw others more clearly,
too. He'd run into Chris at Starfleet
Medical, for Christ's sake. She hadn't
been hiding. And later, she and Spike had
been out walking. In the open. Not hunting or patrolling. Just out for a stroll. "Maybe you simply weren't meant to find
her, Spock."
"Or maybe Christine
stayed well out of my probable path when she knew I was on Earth."
"That's certainly a
possibility." Kirk suddenly felt
tired. Bone weary. In a way he'd never felt as a vampire.
In many ways, life had been
simpler when he hadn't been living.
Nothing had to make sense.
Nothing had to be noble. Not when
he'd been a creature of the night. Any
way he found to rise above his base desires was commendable.
"What will you do
next?" Spock asked.
"I'm going to go home,
watch them change Chris back to human, and past that, I haven't thought."
"Decker is gone; the
ship is yours again."
"Only if Nogura says it is."
"Why would he not? You have done everything he asked. At great personal peril."
"Not quite." Kirk dropped his voice. "Do you remember those other slayers
from that special place who fought with Chris?"
Spock nodded.
"He's very interested in
them. In where they live. We haven't been exactly forthcoming with
info."
"Ah." Spock smiled.
"Even as vampires, you kept their secret?"
Kirk nodded.
"That is
commendable."
See. Easy.
Kirk put his hand on Spock's
arm, felt answering warmth. He'd gotten
so used to cool flesh. Spock felt as if
he was burning up, even through his uniform sleeve. But it felt familiar. It felt good.
"I've missed you, Spock."
"I have missed you as
well." Spock sighed again. "Life will be very confusing for the
foreseeable future."
"Still the master of
understatement, old friend."
They walked on, two old friends,
who might or might not find their way back to that friendship.
At least Kirk knew they both
wanted to try.
--------------
Christine paced the confines
of room sixteen. Jim was due any
moment. She wished he would have just
beamed into the room, but Weasel had warned that the magical wards might play
havoc with the transporters. Since she
wanted Jim and not a big pile of goo to show up, she'd wait a few more minutes.
"Stop pacing," Emma
said.
"I can't."
The door opened, and she saw
his grin, and launched herself at him, causing him to crash into the door
frame. She heard the pained rush of air,
heard a worse sound--ribs cracking.
"Jim. Oh god.
I'm sorry."
Emma dug in Christine's bag,
handed her the regenerator. She had a
strange look on her face, but not one of surprise at what had just
happened. "Welcome home, Jim."
"Thanks?" He grinned at them both gamely. The grin became more real as the regenerator
did its work.
"I'm so sorry,"
Christine said as she turned the little instrument off.
"It's okay. Enjoy the extra power while you
can." He winked at her.
"Are you sure they're
ready to do the spell again?"
"Nogura says 'Why
wait?'"
"What does Alma
say?" Christine tried to fight off
a mean look.
He glanced around the motel
room. "I assume you're not staying
here because you like the turn-down service?"
Emma laughed, but Christine didn't view any of this as very funny.
"Alma got a bit testy
with us," Emma said. "Fires
were breaking out. It was spoiling the
mood..."
Christine looked over at her,
trying to read her expression as she made light of Alma's attack. Before she could say anything, there was a
knock on the door, then Weasel stuck his head in.
"Nogura's on his
way." He shut the door and left
them alone.
Kirk nodded, his grin
untroubled. "Soon, Chris. Very soon." Then he looked over at Emma, including her in
the grin. "We can do you
next."
"I don't want to go
back," she whispered.
Christine had known this was
coming. Had suspected Emma would prefer
un-life to certain, painful death.
"It's okay. We can still be
together."
Kirk grinned, a naughty, if slightly
nervous, expression. "As long as
the regenerator holds out."
Emma smiled, but it was an
expression that did not make it to her eyes.
"Let's just get through tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Jim said
with a smile.
He kissed them both tenderly,
then pulled away. "The future
awaits," he said, leading them to the door and down through the edges of
the dying daylight to Weasel's workroom.
----------------
Lori arrived first. She looked around at them and smiled, her
smile becoming brighter when it rested on Kirk.
"The returning hero." He
tried, but could find no trace of mockery in her voice or her eyes.
Nogura came in a moment
later, werewolf lackeys carrying the cage and leading five vampires--one woman
and four men this time.
"Where's Alma?"
Kirk asked.
"Given her harassment of
your women, Jim, I thought it best to leave her out."
"But you need
three," Emma said. Kirk assumed
Chris had described the ritual to her.
Lori frowned. "She doesn't need to be here."
Christine smiled grimly. "Oh, yes, she does. I'm the one dying, this time. And I'll have who I damn well want at my
death and rebirth ceremony." She
looked over at Kirk. "Are you up to
doing the spell?"
He could feel power tingling
inside him--probably from being back in his old classroom--but he wasn't
anywhere near full strength. He shook
his head.
"Oh, not to worry,"
Nogura said. "We have Lori. She's more than powerful enough for
this."
Lori smiled at them and
nodded.
"We just have one little
thing to settle before we start," Nogura said, sitting down and playing
with the scroll that contained the spell.
"Can you guess what it is?"
Kirk forced himself not to
look at Chris as he shrugged.
"Kirsu." Lori walked over to Chris. "How was your reunion? Hearty, I imagine."
She looked at him, at his
ribs, and he could feel them aching slightly, as if she was pushing in on the
healing bones. He didn't even try to
fight back.
"Magic still on the
fritz? Too bad, lover." She walked back to Nogura's side.
Nogura nodded, tapping his
knee with the scroll. "So...if you
want her to be transf--"
Suddenly, Kirk felt the wards
around the room heat up, like someone had set fire to the inside of a spider
web, the flames starting to lick outward.
He could sense Weasel opening the room to Alma before she did any more
damage.
"I don't like being left
out," she said as she stomped down the stairs.
"There may be nothing to
be left out of," Nogura said.
"Not unless Jim or Christine would like to tell us how to find
Kirsu."
"That's only a
legend," Alma said, and Kirk saw Chris look at her in not-quite-suppressed
surprise. Alma knew of Kirsu, if not how
to get there.
"Maybe so. We need to know everything about it, legend
or no."
"Or what?" Alma was studying Chris.
"Or she stays a vampire
and her relationship with Jimbo here won't have the staying power of a fruit
fly." Nogura grinned meanly.
"We don't know
anything," Chris said. "Don't
do this."
Nogura shrugged. "In time, you'll come around. Possibly even tonight, once you realize what
you're giving up, so I'll leave the cage and the vampires." He held up the scroll. "But I'll be taking this."
He got halfway up the stairs
with it before it burst into flame. Kirk
felt a sense of inevitability as he turned to Alma.
She shrugged. Her eyes dead.
Nogura pressed his burned
hand to his stomach. "Well, so much
for happily ever after." He shot
Kirk a "them's the breaks" look, then nodded to Lori, who followed
him out. They left the cage and the
vampires.
"Tell me you memorized
the spell," Kirk said to Weasel.
"I did. Of course, I did. But you need the scroll to be present. It's part of the spell, not just a record of
the words."
Alma smiled. "Then you can't do the spell?"
Kirk noticed how she didn't
say "we." He didn't like it.
"I can't do the spell
now. But I've got a lead on another
scroll. I was worried about Nogura
pulling something like this."
"You've thought of
everything." Alma smiled, the
beautifully sad smile that had first won Kirk's heart. Then her expression changed. "Except you've lost sight of the fact
that Christine's not worth all this effort.
She's no good for you, Jim.
She'll drag you down."
Kirk felt magic flare around
him--hot, dreadfully hot, fire energy.
"Chris!" he yelled, but Alma had already launched her
attack. It flew like a missile, guided
fire heading straight for Chris's chest.
She stood in the fire's path, a look of despair on her face. She didn't try to move as time seemed to slip
into slow motion.
"Chris!" Kirk
yelled again, sure that the next thing he saw would be her going up in flames.
But suddenly she was flung
aside, and the fire-missile buried itself into Emma's body. She screamed for a long moment, as her
clothing and hair burst into flame.
Then she was gone.
Chris roared. There was fear and pain and utter rage in the
sound.
"You see," Alma
said, as she stared at Chris, hate blazing out of her eyes. "Everything you touch, you destroy. I told him that, but he wouldn't listen. He had to have you."
Chris looked ready to launch
herself at Alma. "Murderer."
"Consider it a mercy
killing."
Weasel edged closer to
Kirk. "Water spout, Mac." Kirk felt his teacher's energy mixing with
his own. Kirk dug down, found magic
inside him, no longer hiding, ready to answer him now that every cell in his
body was screaming with the need to protect Chris. The water and wind built inside his mind and
Weasel's. And when Weasel whispered,
"Now," Kirk imagined the watery tornado flying straight and true at
Alma, dousing her power.
It flew, materializing as he
and Weasel gave it form. Alma saw it
coming and tried to block it with a huge blast of fire.
It barely wobbled.
She screamed as the water
covered her like plastoskin over a wound.
And, as she tried to break free, Chris was on her. Her hands on Alma's skull and neck. There was a horrible crack, and Alma stopped
moving. Chris let go, and Alma slid to
the ground, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.
Chris stood, shaking, looking
at Alma, then over where Emma had burned up.
Her eyes met Kirk's, and she sank down on the ground next to Alma.
"Chris." He approached her carefully, hated that he
even had to think about how strong she was, or what she might do to him.
"She was right,
Jim. You should have listened to her
when she first warned you about me. I do
destroy everything I touch."
"No." He brushed her hair back, helped her up. "I love you. I will always love you."
He drew her away, taking her
upstairs to their room, lying with her on a bed that had never been his to
share with her or Emma.
Emma. He let out a ragged breath, again
saw her push Chris out of the way, her body going up in flames.
That horrible scream--he would hear it in his dreams. He would think of Emma, and he'd know Alma had
meant for Chris to be the one who'd felt that torment.
How had everything become so
twisted?
"What are we going to
do?" Chris sounded lost.
"We wait for Weasel to
track down another scroll. He will,
Chris. I know he will." He kissed her again. "Then we change you, too."
"There's only two of
you."
"We'll wing it. We're strong enough." He had felt that when they'd built the water
spout. As if nothing was impossible for
them to do. As if no one could have
stood in their way. Not even Nogura.
"Okay," she said,
but she was crying.
He held her, but, for the
first time since she had turned him, she didn't even seem to know he was there.
-------------------
Spock waited for Jim to
finish his tasks at Starfleet Command, then walked with him back to the motel
Jim's friend ran. "Why is he called
Weasel?"
Jim pursed his lips. "I'm not actually sure. He has a thing about names. Calls me 'Mac' and Chris 'Toots.' I can't wait to hear what he comes up with
for you."
Weasel was sitting out front,
his chair tilted back against the wall.
"You bringing home strays now, Mac?"
Spock stared at him, unsure
what to say.
"Well, get a load of
Mister Happy."
"Questioned
answered," Jim said with a grin. He
turned to Weasel. "Any word on the
scroll?"
"Should be here
tomorrow." Weasel nodded back
toward the room. "She's not doing
so good."
Spock saw Jim frown. His friend had not wanted to tell him what
had happened, why Christine was still a vampire. He imagined Alma trying to kill Christine,
superimposed his memories of standing over Spike, ready to stake him. Love inspired such horrible brutality. And Alma had, to some extent, been in the same
emotional state Spock had been. Alone,
missing the one she loved. And then to
find out he was with someone else, that he did not want to come back to
her. Spock didn't condone what Alma had
done, but he understood it. She had just
been trying to protect what was hers. So
often love boiled down to possession.
"She'll be fine once the
scroll gets here." Jim motioned for
Spock to follow him, led him around the corner.
"She's...you know how dark her moods can get."
"I do."
Jim looked up. "Spock, I'm sorry. This is--I shouldn't be making you listen to
this. Our problems aren't yours."
"You are my friend. She...I am unsure what she is, but she is
important to me. I make your problems
mine. Willingly."
"Thank you," Jim
said, clasping his shoulder hard.
"I wish I could help her."
"Perhaps if I talked to
her. Provide some closure that does not
involve someone trying to kill her?"
Jim thought about it. "Maybe that would help. Let me go get her." He walked down to one of the rooms, opened
the door and disappeared inside.
A moment later, Christine
came out. "Spock." There was no emotion in her voice. Nothing in her expression to indicate if she
was happy or not to see him.
"Christine." He wanted to call her "wife." But he'd dissolved that himself, when he'd
thought he was dying. "Perhaps we
could walk?"
"Jim says you experience
emotions again."
"I feel much more now
than I did before. Because of the meld
with V'ger."
She nodded.
"I still felt things
even after Gol. Especially for
you."
"I'm sorry. You're just another person I hurt."
He glanced over at her. She did not breathe. It was an odd thing to miss: the steady in
and out of her breath. But he did. He'd often lain awake, not needing as much sleep
as she had, but content to just hold her, to listen to her breathe in and out.
"I'm sorry, Spock. For all the things I did wrong. For all the ways I hurt you and everyone
else."
He stopped her, a hand on her
arm. Her skin was distressingly
cool. "And I am sorry for what
happened to your friend."
"She died for me. It should have been me burning up, not
her."
"Perhaps dying for you was
the only decision she could make?"
"Like ripping a bond to
shreds?"
"Yes, exactly like
that. Both of us wanted you to go
on." He gave in to an impulse and
brushed her dark hair off her face. She
leaned into his hand, and he felt a rush of the old tenderness for her. Even now.
Even after all the hurt, he still wanted to protect her. "I still love you."
She stared at him, her eyes
full of something he finally identified as discomfort.
"But you do not want to
hear that, it seems."
"You went away,
Spock. There was a part of me that still
loved you. But after what you did to
Spike. After those messages you sent to
Jim and me." She pulled away from
him. "I love Jim."
"Can a vampire
love?"
She blinked, clearly not
expecting those words. He was a little
surprised by them himself.
"Yes. Yes, we can." There was no hesitation on the
"we." She was what she was: a
vampire. Even if she would very soon be
human again.
He nodded, accepting her
answer. "You will join us on the
ship." It was not a question,
because Jim had already shared his plans, probably to prepare Spock for the
worst. It still surprised Spock that
Nogura, after denying Jim the spell, would give him the ship. But Jim had earned it back. He had stopped V'ger, had saved them
all. Or maybe there was something on
that scroll Nogura had in his office.
Maybe Jim was named more than once, and Nogura couldn't afford not to
give him the ship?
"It's what Jim
wants," she said.
"What do you want?"
She looked at him warily.
"I am serious. What do you wish for the future to
bring?"
"A chance to make
amends." She looked down. "If I can."
"I am sure you
can."
"I wish I was
sure." She smiled at him, the
closest thing to a real smile she'd given him.
"And I want to spend my future with Jim."
Spock looked down. "Of course."
"I'm sorry. Do you wish I'd said I wanted to spend it
with you?"
He met her eyes. "Yes."
His honesty seemed to disarm
her. She closed her eyes and said
softly, "If I'd never run..."
"Yes, if you had never
run."
She opened her eyes, and he
saw pain--and some kind of grim acceptance.
"But I did run. I did, and
this is what followed that action. This
is what is."
Spock nodded. No matter how much he might wish things had
turned out differently, this was what was.
-------------------
Christine smiled in
anticipation as Weasel opened the package containing the scroll. She glanced at Jim, and he grinned at her,
the light bright in his eyes. Weasel
drew the scroll out, a big smile lighting his face--a smile that faded the
longer he handled the scroll.
It's a fake, isn't
it?" She laughed, could feel
hysteria bubbling up.
"Chris." Jim tried to hold her, but she threw him away
from her.
Hard. Much too hard. Something cracked. Another broken bone? Just like she'd hurt him last night when
they'd made love.
Turning, she ran from him, up
the stairs, into the night, making impossible speed as she called upon slayer
and vampire powers to carry her far, far away.
She found the bench she'd sat
on with Emma as they'd watched the sunset, after Emma had told her of the
origins of Kirsu.
Should she have given up the slayers to Nogura when she had the chance? Only Alma still would have destroyed the
scroll. Or would Nogura have protected
it better if they'd given him what he wanted?
Or would he have cared about her at all if she no longer held secrets he
wanted to know?
It was impossible to
know. She'd done what she'd done. And now the consequences must be borne.
If she closed her eyes, she
could remember watching the sunset, what it looked like as the fiery disk that
was her enemy now, fell into the sea.
She'd been holding Emma's hand--her warm hand, not her cool one. It was symmetry that she would watch the
sunrise from here, too. And when the sun
burned her to a crisp, the way Alma's fire should have, then Emma--and maybe
Alma, too--would be waiting to escort her to Hell.
She sat motionless, no
breath, no heartbeat, still as a statue, staring out at the moonlit sea. Then she heard familiar footsteps.
Jim sat down next to her.
"How did you find
me?" This wasn't his place. This was her place. And Emma's.
"I can feel you. I can still feel you."
She felt his words like
arrows to her heart. Each one should
turn her into dust, but they didn't.
What would life have been like if she'd loved this man just a little
less?
"What are you doing,
Chris?"
"You know what I'm
doing."
"Yes, I know what you're
doing." He took her hand, his touch
so warm. She could feel his pulse, it
was fast now. Worried for her. "Don't do this. Live.
Live for me."
"This isn't life,
Jim. This isn't even close."
"Yes, it is. It's our life, Chris. The one we made, and all right, it's not
nice. But it's ours. You can't throw it away."
"You'd be so much better
off if I'd never been in your life."
He squeezed her hand so hard
it almost hurt. "That's
bullshit. You know where I was. At that damned desk. What if I were still there? My friend dead but no idea why. No magic in my life. No slayer to rescue. To love." He turned to her, his eyes wild. "Don't tell me that loving you didn't
save me. Because it did."
She started to cry. "I love you so."
"Then don't do
this."
She brushed his hair back,
kissing his face. "Stay with
me?"
"Forever. You know that."
"No. Just until sunrise."
He shook his head. "Forever, Chris. I'll stay with you forever."
She pulled away, jerking her
hand from his grasp. "Stop it. You know what I want. If you can't stay with me, then go now."
"I'm not going
anywhere." He leaned back. "You never told me what happened to
Ashley. Where is she?"
She felt hurt flood her. Ashley.
The little slayer who'd needed her.
What a damn joke.
"Spike called for you,
Chris. He was worried. Just had a feeling. I know that feeling. I feel it, too." He put his arm around her, pulled her to him,
and she let her head nestle against his shoulder. It felt too good to fight. "He told me about the test."
"I passed. Yay me."
She turned and buried her face in his neck, crying over the little girl
she was going to save, over the vampire she loved who'd thought it necessary to
test her.
Kirk pulled her closer, so
her mouth rested over his jugular. She
tensed, and felt his hand on the back of her head, holding her close. She could feel the beat of his heart, smell
the warm tang of his blood. She felt her
face start to change and just barely stopped it.
"I've called Spock. The ship is his--unless Nogura gives it to
someone else."
"No."
"Spock doesn't support
my choice, but he understands it."
"No."
"It was always a choice,
Chris, you never took anything away from me.
I chose you and whatever life I had to lead to be with you. And I'll always make that choice because
you're my world, and you're slipping away, and I'm going to save you the only
way I can."
"No."
"Weasel will keep
looking for the spell. And when he finds
it, he'll turn us both back. He's strong
enough to do it. And I'll help him do you. I'll be so strong by then, too. My magic won't leave me a second time, I know
it."
"No, Jim."
He yanked her face up, kissed
her the way he used to, savagely, as if he was already a vampire again. "It's not just for you, Chris. You think I don't miss what we had? The strength?
The power? No need to do the
right thing, but we did it anyway. No need
to rise above, but we chose to. I don't
fear it. I welcome it. I'll become human again when it's time. But not without you."
She pulled away, tears making
it hard to see. For a moment, she was
back in the cemetery, David's mouth at her neck. In her mind's eye, he asked her to choose,
and she didn't choose him. She chose to
fight. That Chapel limped off. To where, Christine didn't know. All she knew was that she didn't make that
choice. That Chapel was the Christine
who chose selflessly. Who didn't just
take what she wanted.
She should try to be more
like that Chapel.
She pushed Jim away, got up.
He yanked her back, only he
hadn't gotten up from the bench. He was
holding her with magic?
She stared at him, tried to
speak but her voice wouldn't work. She
fought for control, finally said, "Your ship. You have it back. It's worth more than me. Take it.
Run."
"I don't run, remember?" He smiled, and she felt shivers wherever his
magic touched her.
"You stay human, then,
and I'll stay by your side. And we'll
wait for Weasel to find--"
"You're lying. I can tell." The magical arms didn't feel very good all of
a sudden. "I've done what I was
supposed to do. I saved the world. Hooray for the great James T. Kirk. And now I want what I want. I want to come home. And home, my great, terrible love, is
you." He got up, the magic easing
up the closer he came.
He was giving her a choice. Of course, he'd do that.
He pulled her to him,
caressing her hair as he settled her face near his neck and breathed, "Do
it."
Desire coursed through her. For
him. For his blood. For sharing her nights with him, not just a
sunrise that only one of them would see all the way through.
"Do it."
Her face changed, and she
sobbed. She should be better, but she
wasn't better: she was the selfish one.
His hand tightened, he jammed
her face against his neck. "Do
it. Now."
She did it; she bit down and
heard him sigh as she began to drink. He
caressed her as she drained him. His
blood filled her, took away her pain, even if it could do nothing for the
guilt.
But this was who she was. She was weak.
She was in love.
Maybe she was evil.
His heart slowed dangerously,
and she ripped open her own neck and let him feed from the hot, hearty
blood. He sucked hard, his teeth biting
into her torn skin, his tongue making her shiver. His hands moved on her body with more vigor
as he grew stronger.
He pulled away, his eyes
closing. And as he sagged, she picked
him up and carried him back to the motel.
Weasel was waiting; he opened
the door and let her into their room.
"Do you
disapprove?"
"It's what he
wanted." His voice made it clear he
heartily disapproved.
"I need to hunt. He'll need to feed as soon as he wakes
up."
"Lovely life you
lead." He walked away. Then he turned back. "Been reports of a rapist over near the Tenderloin. A real animal, from all accounts."
"Thank you."
He nodded and walked
away.
She didn't find the rapist,
but she found a man about to beat up the teenage boy who'd thought he was going
to service him. She left the kid crying,
took the man back to the motel. She and
Jim could hunt for the rapist later.
She sat on the bed, watching
Jim sleep. He didn't breathe; his heart
didn't beat. It was glorious and
troubling. She felt guilt war with joy
that he was back with her.
He opened his eyes. Smiled at her. "Chris," he said, as he reached for
her.
"You need to feed."
"Later," he said,
kissing her, his cool flesh matching her own.
"I love you, Jim." She smiled as he bit down and fed from
her. She let him nearly drain her, then
reached for the man she'd brought for him, and bit into him, feeding herself as
Jim drank and drank from her.
When he pulled away, his face
was a vampire's again. His eyes glowed
yellow, and blood dripped from his fangs.
He grinned, said, "Honey, I'm home," and pushed the corpse off
the bed before ripping her clothes off and taking her violently.
She felt guilt hide in the
face of overpowering desire. Regret gave
way to a love that would have its way no matter what. This was the life she'd
made.
This was what was.
Guilt and regret would no
doubt come back. But for now, they could
wait.
FIN