DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount
Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of
Djinn and are copyright (c) 2002 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Gotterdammerung
by Djinn
A misty wind blew across the
fields, fanning the fires of a hundred torches and bonfires. Christine stood on the side of the hill
looking down at the horde of vampires and demons that waited. Behind her stretched an army of slayers,
brandishing swords and stakes, wicked daggers and sturdy clubs.
"It is time," she
heard one of them say. "Why does
she not move aside if she will not fight?"
"You must act,
Christine," Spock said in her ear.
"You are the Slayer."
"We are all the
Slayer," the multitude around her seemed to say. "We must fight. We must fight unto death."
Christine felt
paralyzed. This was not what she
wanted. She was tired of fighting. Tired of being caught in the middle of this
never-ending battle between good and evil.
A dark-skinned, angry-looking
slayer pushed her way to the front. She
faced Christine. "You will not
fight with us?"
Christine shook her
head.
"Then move
aside." The dark slayer shoved her
hard; only Spock's arms kept Christine from tumbling down the hill. "We go!" the slayer yelled and led
the others down to the waiting vampires.
Spock made as if to follow.
"No. Don't go." Christine had to use all her strength to keep
him back.
"If you will not fight,
I must," he said, his face suddenly morphing into Roger Korby's. "You
cannot just quit, Christine."
She pulled away from
him. "I have to. It's not fair, Roger. They need to let me go."
"You fight until death,
it is the way it is." Roger reached
for her, then his face morphed into that of the vampire Drusilla. She smiled insanely. "There is only one way for creatures
like us, ducks."
"No! We find another way."
Suddenly, Spock stood in
front of her again. "Too late. All is lost."
"No," Christine
said, as she pointed to the sky.
"The dawn breaks."
She looked down on the field
and saw the slayers falling, as a huge vampire stood on a large stone altar and
held aloft a golden orb. With a roar,
the dark slayer that had led the charge jumped up to face him.
"She cannot win,"
Spock whispered.
The dark slayer traded blows
with the vampire, reaching desperately for the orb. At first they seemed evenly matched, then
suddenly she weakened and the vampire had her in a death grip, was forcing her
down to her knees.
"No!" Christine
screamed, as the vampire looked up at her in triumph.
Then he bent down, his teeth
tearing viciously into the dark slayer's neck.
She crumpled at his feet. The orb
began to glow and a deafening roar went up from the assembled vampires. They cheered as the orb pulled the light from
the dawn, then from the torches and the bonfires, leaving behind only
blackness.
When all the light had been
stolen, the orb let out a high-pitched wail, then went silent.
The darkness was total.
"You could have stopped
this," a new voice said. Christine
whirled to see a woman, glowing in the darkness like a torch. She seemed about to cry. "But you would not."
A vampire rose up in front of
the woman and kissed her. "You talk
too much," he said, as he stabbed her with her own dagger. As she fell back against him, he placed his
hands on either side of her head, casually breaking her neck.
Christine backed away in
horror.
"You could have stopped
this," the vampire said as his face returned to normal, to that of Jim
Kirk's. "But you would
not."
"You would not,"
Spock echoed behind her.
As Kirk reached for her,
Christine screamed.
*Christine, wake up!* Spock's mind call barely pushed the dream
away from her. *It is only a
nightmare. Wake up!*
She fought her way out of the
dream, trying to wake up but feeling her strength failing.
*Let me help,* his voice was
gentle, surrounding her with tenderness and concern. *Let go of the images, or the dream will not
release you.*
She tried to let go and the
dream's grip loosened somewhat. *Spock?*
She felt his hands on her
face.
His voice was suddenly much
stronger. *I am here. Shhh.*
She let his voice lead her to
him, opened her eyes and sobbed in relief.
"They are getting
worse," he said, as he held her tightly, stroking her sweat-dampened hair.
She nodded, her face buried
in his chest.
"The dreams are not immutable,
you know that. We have proven over and
over that together, with Jim and the others, we can fight whatever evil is
waiting."
She remembered the hordes of
vampires that had stood on the field, tried not to shudder. "This isn't ordinary evil, Spock. This isn't just a fight."
"Then whatever it is, we
will meet it together." He kissed
her. *I will never let you fight alone,
you know that?*
She smiled softly; pulled his
face back to hers, let him push her down onto their bed. She did know that. He would never leave her, would be there to
the end.
She just hoped that the end
wasn't waiting around the next corner.
----------------------
In a bed far away, another
slayer tossed. In her dream, the orb let
out a high-pitched wail, then went silent.
The darkness was total.
And she watched from the
ground, her lifeblood slowly draining out of her, she turned her head; somehow
saw through the inky blackness to the hillside where the blonde slayer stood
watching. "Help me," she said,
reaching out. "Help me!" she
screamed and felt strong hands shaking her awake.
"It's just a dream,
Laura. Stop screaming." LaVelle's voice
held her customary scorn for weakness.
She never screamed. No matter how
bad the dreams got.
But she was older, Laura told
herself. One of the oldest slayers that
Laura had ever seen. Although no one
could compare to Rosa in that regard.
Laura wished their leader had been the one to wake her up. Rosa might have given her a hug, brushed the
tears away.
"Was it the
field?" LaVelle's
voice was tight and all business as it broke into her thoughts.
Laura nodded.
"Was she there?"
Laura didn't have to ask who
the dark slayer meant. She just nodded.
"She never fights. Why does she never fight?" LaVelle stood, started to pace.
"She will fight when she
joins us. Marion said it would be
soon."
LaVelle's expression became even tighter. Marion's visions always came true. She was their window into the real world and
the future. She told them where to go,
who would die. And this had been her
latest vision. But the mention of the
other slayer only seemed to upset LaVelle.
"Yes...soon."
"Do you even want her
here, Velle?" Laura sat up, began
to braid her long red hair into the plait that would keep it off of her face
for the day. No point in trying to go
back to sleep now. "She's older
than you."
"I know." LaVelle stared out the window. "But she got that way by running and
hiding."
"While you kept
fighting. Until you died."
The dark slayer's shoulders
seemed to sag at the mention of her death.
"I was so tired. She has no
idea what it's like to be that tired."
She turned back to look at Laura.
"Neither do you."
Laura knew there was no point
in arguing. Sometimes she got tired of
being the youngest slayer in Kirsu. It
wasn't her fault she'd fallen at fifteen.
She was just glad Rosa and LaVelle had been there to wait with her as
she'd died. Once she was gone and had
called the slayer that would replace her, they'd brought her here, to
Kirsu. Where they had resuscitated her,
given her a chance to rest. To
live. With the other slayers they had
stolen from death's grip. In Kirsu, a
slayer could live out the life that the Powers and the Watchers had stolen from
her when she'd been called.
Not that it was a completely
peaceful life, Laura thought, as her hand brushed the angry scar that was her
latest trophy of the fight with Anacost and his minions. Too often now they fought. She'd actually never known the life that Rosa
and LaVelle were fighting for. Since
they'd brought her here a year ago, there had been nothing but battles. Anacost seemed determined to bring Rosa and
her slayers down. And he wasn't the only
evil thing that was out there. Slayers
on the outside were dying faster than ever, felled by demons and vampires that
had never heard of Kirsu.
But with each new slayer that
fell on the outside, the Kirsu slayers built their forces up. They became stronger, forging an army that
had been growing ever since the founder, Helene, had stumbled on the ancient
ring that opened the portal, brought them here to a world where it was never
dark, where vampires simply could not live.
Kirsu. Their haven.
Laura wished that they never had to leave it, never had to put
themselves at risk. She was tired. They were all tired. But they had a duty to their doomed
sisters. They could give them back their
lives. Could bring them back from the
dead. Into life. Into the sunshine.
And soon they'd have
another.
Laura looked up at
LaVelle. The other slayer grinned at her
as she walked over and ruffled her hair in a rare gesture of affection. "Come on. It's time to train."
-----------------------
Alma burned. In her dream, her orb burned too, letting out
a high-pitched wail, then going silent.
And then there was only
darkness. Total darkness.
Alma screamed in
anguish. She had guarded the Orb for
five hundred years. To fail now was
inconceivable. Yet, it had happened.
In the darkness, she was the
only light. Her body glowed and
flickered and she looked down at the man at her feet. He was no longer writhing in pain, in
need. Instead he stared up at her with
hatred. His hazel eyes glowed obscenely
yellow as his face transformed into that of a vampire.
"You have failed,"
he said, as he pushed himself easily to his feet.
Who are you? she thought, as
he reached for her. She couldn't place
him, yet he seemed so familiar. His
touch, as he reached for her, seemed a well-known pleasure. Yet, she did not remember his name, could not
recall where they had met.
But if she did not know him,
why did she feel such loss?
"Good-bye, lover,"
he said, kissing her, then pulling her dagger from the scabbard around her
waist and stabbing her with it. As the
magic blade slid into her, she felt her body solidify, become heavy. He reached up, tenderly taking her face in
his hands, and twisted, snapping her neck instantly.
Alma woke in a burst of
flames, screaming "No!" as she came to full consciousness.
She looked over at the
Orb. It shone with its normal fire. She sensed nothing unusual from it, could
feel nothing around that would harm her or try to take it.
But that didn't mean she
wouldn't take precautions. She began to
walk around the cave, muttering the incantations she'd learned as soon as she
could talk, had perfected when she'd been chosen centuries later. Each pass strengthening the wards that
guarded her and the Orb.
But no matter how many spells
she did, she could not shake the dread that the dream had left. Or the memory of the man's face.
-----------------------
I hate this, Christine
thought bitterly, as she followed the demon through the dank underbrush. She could not hear Spock behind her. He was probably still back with McCoy trying
to help this Kraccyk demon's latest victim. So I fight alone. I did it for years. I can do it again.
Why did every world they
stopped on lately have indigenous monster life that she had to take down? This demon had been preying on children in
the Eastern lowlands for several months.
Christine wasn't sure how the woman that had approached her had known
she could help. It was as if she was
wearing an ID badge that everybody could see but her, she thought. 'Slayer Exterminations: Call now for free estimate.' She smiled grimly at her own humor. Seemed like humor was the only weapon left,
and one she wielded less and less often.
She was so dammed tired of
this. Had been five years ago and was
even more so now. If it hadn't been for
the captain's insistence that they help where she was needed, that they go to
the worlds where the rumors and whispers said a slayer would come in handy, she
would have gratefully retreated back into retirement. But he had given her a strange look when she
had told him what she wanted to do.
"Not help, Chris? When you can?
When it's what you were made to do?"
"I'm tired,
Captain."
"Jim," he had
corrected her, not for the first time.
She wasn't used to being on such easy terms with him. "And I'm sure you are tired. But is it better to run away and hide?"
"At least I'd get some
sleep. You don't know what it's
like. The horrible dreams. The constant surge of adrenaline making it
nearly impossible to ever completely relax.
The memories."
"Spock can help you with
that."
"Make me forget? Does that make sense if I'm not going to be
allowed to give this up again? I need
the memories. I need the nightmares. They may be the only thing that keeps me
alive."
He had nodded somberly. "And I do want you to stay that
way."
"You and me both,"
she had quipped, trying for a grin and barely making a smile.
She was just so tired.
Sensing something up ahead,
she slowed and carefully eased through the bushes into a clearing. The demon stood waiting for her.
"Ssssslayer." The thing had the face of a snake. His forked tongue flicked in and out as he
stared her down.
She sighed. "Can we just forget the rhetoric? The part where you tell me how your children will
wear my skin as boots or that you've feasted on the blood of a million
slayers. Because I've heard it all
before. Let's just skip ahead to the
part where we actually fight."
"That is ssssatissssfactory."
Hope Spock was right about
you not being poisonous, she thought, as she pulled out a dagger. Go for the back of its neck, she reminded
herself. Or hit it in the torso, where a
human spleen would be. A strike anywhere
else would barely hurt the creature.
It hissed again and began to
circle her. She moved, keeping it always
ahead of her. For long minutes, he
circled her repeatedly. She focused on
the creature's tongue, its rhythmic movement.
So soothing in a strange way. So
easy to forget everything. Her eyes
began to droop. She was jarred back to
awareness when the demon launched itself at her with a squeal.
Spock hadn't mentioned the
damn thing could hypnotize. She had let
her hand drop to her side and now fought to whip the knife into position before
the creature struck her. She got it
halfway there and then the impact of the demon sent it crashing toward
her. As the blade slid between her ribs
and down her body, it tore into soft flesh and vital organs. She screamed in anguish.
*Christine!* she heard
Spock's mental voice as she fell to the ground.
"Ssssstupid
ssssslayer," the demon said, failing to notice a
portal materializing behind it as it reached for the dagger, burying it deeper
inside her with a vicious thrust. It
never saw the two women emerge from the portal.
One of them, tall and dark, raised a short sword and sank it calmly into
the back of the demon's neck. It died
instantly, leaving the dagger inside Christine.
She tried to pull it
out. The other woman, barely more than a
girl, ran to Christine and pulled her hands off the dagger. "Shhh, you'll only make it hurt
worse. It'll be over soon."
"Who are you?"
Christine asked, as the next wave of pain took her.
"My name is Laura. I'm here to take you home." The girl's red hair shone in the moonlight
and Christine was reminded of blood.
Her blood. Blood that was now choking her. "Help me?" Christine barely managed
to say, the world already starting to go dark.
*Christine, hold on!* Spock's mind voice was as frantic as she'd
ever heard it.
The dark woman was cleaning
off her sword as she looked down at Christine.
"You have to die first. To
call another slayer. We can't interfere
with that. Then we'll help you."
Christine couldn't breathe;
she coughed and spit up blood.
"Spock," she whispered.
"Shhh. It will be over soon," Laura said. "We all went through it. It only hurts for a little while."
The other woman looked
up. "Someone's coming."
Christine could feel Spock
getting nearer. *Spock,* she tried to
send him.
"Coming this way. Let's go."
"We can't leave her
here, Velle," Laura said as the other woman pulled her away from
Christine.
"We don't have a
choice. You know that." The older one touched something on her hand
and the portal reopened. She looked at
Christine. "I'm sorry. We intended to save you." She jumped through the portal.
With a last look at
Christine, Laura followed the other woman.
Christine tried to shift and
moaned in pain. It was too much effort
to keep her eyes open so she let them close.
She tried to take a breath, but no air reached her lungs.
*Christine, hold on.*
*I love you, Spock,* she
thought sadly. She had just enough
strength left to regret that she only ever seemed to say it when she was
dying.
The last thing she heard was
his voice saying, "Spock to Enterprise.
Medical emergency. Two to beam
up."
Too late, she thought, as
everything went dark.
-------------------------------
"She's not
breathing," Spock said to the medics as they rushed into the transporter
room with a gurney.
They moved Christine off the
pad and one began CPR as the other took out a respirator and placed it over her
face. As they worked, Spock continued to
hold the piece of fabric he had torn from his uniform tightly against the deep wound,
trying to stop the flow of blood.
McCoy beamed up a few moments
later. He glanced at Spock as he hurried
to Christine's side. "What
happened?"
"The demon stabbed
her." Spock moved aside slightly to
give him room.
"She's lost a lot of
blood," McCoy said, indicating Spock could let up on the pressure. As he pulled away, McCoy took a pressure pad
from one of the medics and held it against Christine's skin until it adhered on
its own. Satisfied that it would hold,
he placed a respirator on her, then said, "Let's move."
As they hurried out of the
room and to sickbay, Spock noticed that the oxygen mask did not seem to be
helping. She was still not breathing.
"She is dead,
Doctor?"
McCoy made a face. "Technically. But that doesn't mean she has to stay that
way."
They entered sickbay and the
medics took Christine to the trauma room, settling her quickly on the
biobed. Spock watched as the monitors
slowly lit up but showed no movement. Her
vitals were all at zero.
"She has not been dead
long," Spock said, not sure why he felt compelled to tell McCoy that.
"It's okay, Spock. I'm going to get her back." McCoy set to work, raising the bed's arch
over Christine's chest and letting it stimulate the heart and pulmonary system.
Spock took a step forward,
trying to see the least flicker of life in her face. He reached out for her with his mind. *Christine?*
Nothing.
There was a long moment where
the only sound in the room was the beep of the arch as it worked. Then suddenly Christine began to cough. A nurse was there to wipe away the blood and
move her face to the side so she wouldn't choke. McCoy gave Spock a smile of sheer
satisfaction before moving the arch up to gain access to the wound. He let the nurse set up a sterile field and disinfect
his hands, then he began the surgery, carefully removing the dagger and
repairing the damage it had done.
Spock stood where he was,
watching Christine's face. Her eyes
flickered for a moment and she groaned.
He felt a surge of relief as he sensed just the slightest brush of
presence when he called to her again with his thoughts.
Then he looked over at the
knife in puzzlement. The demon had left
it in Christine when it had stabbed her.
Yet the demon had been dead when Spock got to her, killed with a blow to
the back of the neck. Spock had noticed
the thing's blackish blood congealing on the ground even as he had called for
beam-up. But who or what had stabbed the
demon? Christine could not have, not
with her knife buried in her own body. And
there had been no one else there. Or had
there? Logic dictated that there must
have been.
It was a mystery. One he intended to solve. But later, he thought, as he looked down at
Christine.
McCoy handed the nurse the
laser scalpel. "Let's close,"
he said, relief clear in his voice.
"She'll need blood. And some
pain meds. And give her some immunoenhancers just to be on the safe side. I don't want this wound to get infected. Not when we've spent all this effort fixing
her up."
"She will be all
right?" Spock asked.
McCoy nodded. "Good as new. Eventually." He frowned.
"You got there just in time, Spock.
A few more minutes and it would have been too late."
Spock nodded as he stared
down at her.
Her eyes slowly opened and she
said softly, "Spock?"
"I am here."
McCoy smiled. "I'll leave you two alone for a
while."
*You live,* Spock sent her,
letting her feel his relief.
"I hurt," she
corrected, too tired to try to speak to him with her mind.
"The nurse is bringing
some pain medicine. Along with
blood." He took her hand. "You need blood."
"Just like a
vampire." She smiled faintly.
"Except you are
alive."
"Now. But I was dead, wasn't I?" She looked away. "I think I called someone else."
"Another
slayer?" At her mournful nod, he
said. "If it is her destiny, who
are we to argue?"
"It's not fair,
Spock. Not fair to her." She looked up at him intently. "Especially not when I still live."
"I am glad that you
live," he said as he brushed the hair off her face. He had to resist the urge to take her in his
arms, crush her to him. Feeling her fade
from his mind had been the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced.
"I'm okay. You didn't lose me," she said, sensing
the direction his thoughts were taking.
He nodded and felt her hand
tighten in his.
"It's nice to know I'd
be missed."
He touched her face
gently. *You would be more than missed,
Christine. You know that.*
As the nurse came in, Spock
moved away from Christine. He saw her
close her eyes and rest. Then her eyes
flew open and she looked at him in shock.
"What is it?"
"There were two of
them. I think they were
slayers."
He could sense her
confusion. Slayers should not be so far
from Earth. But it made sense, given the
dead demon. "You've seen them
before?"
She shook her head. "Laura," she said softly as the
pain medicine started to work, causing her words to slur a bit. "The little one's name was Laura."
"What did they
want?"
She frowned slightly and he
thought she was not going to answer. But
just before she fell asleep, she said, "I think they wanted to save
me."
Spock watched her sleep for a
long time before he moved to the computer terminal in the nurse's office and
began to call up any data he could find on slayers operating offworld. There was
nothing. He tried calling their contact
in the Watcher's Council, Peter Wyndham-Pryce, but he was at some event called
the Watcher's Retreat and would not be back for some time.
Spock wished that Uhura were
aboard. The communications officer had
proven to be quite adept at research, and at tracking vampires and other
unnatural things. But she was on administrative
leave at a conference on Earth.
I will solve this mystery alone
then, he resolved, as he moved back to Christine's side. She was resting easily, her breathing already
much stronger than it had been. He
suspected the healing abilities that she had told him all slayers enjoyed had
begun to work.
He reached over and touched
her cheek, relishing the feel of her skin under his hand, refusing to dwell on
the fact that he had almost lost that feeling forever.
------------***--------------------
Alma stared into the scrying
mirror. The dream had involved vampires. Where there were vampires, there were
slayers. So she watched the
slayers. And they were busy, busier than
she'd ever seen them. And there were
more of them than she'd ever imagined.
She watched in fascination. She
could still remember when there had only been one slayer. Then the Summers girl had come along and
suddenly there were two. Things must
have grown exponentially after that, if the current crop of young women was any
indication.
She saw a dark shadow cross
the surface of the mirror. She
concentrated hard, forcing it to stop and come into focus. The woman was a slayer but she was no
girl. Probably in her late twenties,
dark and battlescarred. Old for a slayer. Alma felt a sense of dread as she looked at
her.
Had she seen her before? She tried to think back, but her encounters
with the slayers were few. This woman
was a stranger. Why then was she so
familiar?
The Orb suddenly glowed
brightly. Alma nearly dropped the mirror
as she turned to it. "You see
something."
It didn't answer. It never did.
But something had touched it. The
woman's destiny was linked with its somehow.
Another slayer came into
focus, about the same age as the dark one but physically a pale blonde
counterpoint. She was wounded, lying in
a bed somewhere. Wounded badly but
recovering. Her breathing was deep and
even, and Alma could sense her strength growing even from her vantage
point. The Orb flared even
brighter.
Alma frowned. Who were these women? Slayers had never mattered to the Orb before. Its destiny had never been part of their
cycle of birth, destruction, and death.
Alma had never been part of that. Nor her sisters before her.
Why now? She reached out, touching the mirror and
laying her finger on the blonde's image.
Why you?
She turned to look at the Orb
again. It did not react, did not flare
into life again.
Perhaps I imagined it, Alma
tried to tell herself. But as she looked
back at the wounded slayer, she knew that she hadn't.
She picked up the Orb, held
it gently in both hands and closed her eyes.
Slowly, her consciousness opened to the vibrations that the Orb was
sending out. She smiled as she felt a
sense of hope, a feeling of inspiration sweep over her. There was no darkness here. There was nothing to fear.
She set the Orb back on its
pedestal. Gently pulled her mind from
it, let it resume its healing on the troubled world they had made their current
project. War-torn and primitive, the
planet had been headed for destruction.
Until Alma had taken up residence in the cave, and the Orb had begun to
send out its unique message of peace. Of
hope. Of promise. It had taken decades, but the planet had
turned away from the constant warfare, was heading down a more creative, more
inspired path.
That was the power of the Orb.
Alma frowned. That was one of the powers of the Orb. There were others, less positive. It was her duty to ensure that the darkness
that lurked beneath the inspiration did not get out. She sighed.
Maybe it was time to see for herself what was going on? She couldn't leave the Orb alone, but to take
it away from the safety of the cave would be madness.
She closed her eyes, thought
of the one that had come before. The one
who had served the Orb while Alma grew up and played and lived the life of the unchosen. The one
who had been freed from a thousand years of service when Alma was chosen to be
the next guardian of the Orb. As she
concentrated on her predecessor, a thought projection of the demon materialized
in front of her.
Calyx was not happy to be
disturbed. "Alma, do you know what
time it is here?"
Alma shook her head. She wasn't even sure which planet Calyx was
living on these days. The freedom, after
so long tied to the Orb, seemed to have gone to the other demon's head.
"Alma? You called me. What do you want?"
"There is a threat to
the Orb. I need to investigate. Offworld."
"And you expect me to
stay and watch it?" Calyx's color
grew stronger, the light flickering across her skin. "I had a thousand years of that. Why would I want to do more?"
"It's important. I won't be gone long. I just need to see what some slayers are up
to."
"Slayers?" Calyx frowned. "What have we to do with slayers?"
Alma shrugged. "That's what I have to find out."
"Just this
once?" Calyx looked at her
suspiciously.
Alma didn't want to promise
that. She knew Calyx would hold her to
it. "Well, I may have to go offworld again to continue my investigations."
Calyx shot her a resigned
look. It was ever the duty of the one
that had gone before to return when needed.
Alma asking was just her way of being polite, and they both knew
it. "I've got a date, Alma. Now I'll have to break it."
A date, Alma marveled,
feeling herself warm at the thought. It
had been five hundred years since she'd had one of those. "It's for a good cause, Calyx."
"It always
is." Calyx glared at Alma. When it had no effect, she sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Thank you," Alma
said, as the image of her predecessor faded.
-------------------------------
Christine sat next to Spock
in the crowded bar and tried to pay attention to what their informant was
telling them. But the story he was
giving them had nothing to do with a group of resurrected slayers and everything
to do with earning enough credits through creative storytelling to buy drinks
for the week. As he added more
embellishments to the tale, Christine grew impatient. Her mood wasn't helped by the sensation that
they were being watched. Pushing her
chair back abruptly, she got up and said to the startled demon, "Excuse me
for a moment." She headed for the back of the restaurant. Walking through the kitchen and ignoring the
questions of the workers, she went out the rear door into an alley.
She pulled out a stake and
waited.
She didn't have to wait
long. A dark woman followed her out,
grinning dangerously. Christine
recognized her as the woman that had killed the Kraccyk
demon. Laura appeared, her red hair a
beacon as she walked down the alley to the left of Christine. A sweet-faced blonde cut off any escape to
the right. Christine began to back up,
then whirled, realizing that a fourth women was standing in the shadows of the
doorway just behind her.
"So you live after
all," the dark one said. "We
were surprised to hear that you were back among the breathing."
"No thanks to you."
"We tried. If your boyfriend hadn't come crashing
in..." The dark one shrugged, then
gestured toward the bar. "You don't
really expect to get any information out of a Benioth
demon do you? They're notorious
liars."
"He's our best lead so
far. Since we couldn't find you."
"Well, now we've found
you," Laura said with a mischievous grin.
"Put your stake away, we
just want to talk," the one in the shadows said.
"Talk? What are you?
Watchers?"
The dark one laughed. "Hardly."
"Then what?"
"You know what we
are." The woman behind her stepped
forward. She was very old, hair gone
white and face deeply wrinkled. But her
voice was strong as she said, "We are slayers."
"If you're slayers,
shouldn't you be on Earth?"
Christine looked at the old woman in disbelief.
"Our time there was
over. We died, just like you did not so
many days ago." The woman looked at
the stake. "You can put that
away. We're not going to hurt you."
Christine looked at her and
shook her head.
The dark one stepped
forward. "I can make you put it
away."
"LaVelle," the old
one said warningly.
The blonde stepped forward,
her expression open and friendly.
"My name is Marion. And you
know Laura, right?"
"I don't know any of
you," Christine said.
"We are all slayers
here. That is all you need to
know," the old one said, as she took a step toward Christine. "I am Rosa."
Christine felt her rib twinge
as she moved back quickly. She was in no
shape to fight one slayer, much less four.
Even if one of them was impossibly old for one of her kind. "I don't want to fight."
"Who said we do?"
LaVelle asked.
"Then what do you
want?"
"Wanted to see if you'd
try to find us. And you did." LaVelle almost smiled. "That's good. It means you were meant to be a part of
this."
Laura stepped forward. "And we wanted to know who you
were. You live when you should be dead
without our help. You're still in this world,
when you should have been in ours."
Christine made a face. "Right.
Because I want to hang out with a bunch of dead slayers?"
Marion shook her head.
"Not dead. Retired."
Christine laughed
mockingly. "Don't get too
comfortable with that. Retirement can
end really fast."
"Not for us," Rosa
said.
"Why are you so
special?"
"We have Kirsu,"
LaVelle said.
"Kirsu who?"
"Not who," Laura
said with a grin. "Where."
"I'm not
following."
"Yes, my dear. That's what started this whole mess. You were supposed to follow Laura and Velle
into the portal." Rosa gave her a
look full of fond exasperation.
"I wasn't in much shape
to follow anyone."
"We could have carried
you," Laura clarified.
"But instead that Vulcan
took you back to your ship."
LaVelle scowled. "Where the
Watchers know you are alive, don't they?"
Christine shrugged. "They don't care about me."
"Oh, you might be
surprised just how much they do care about you.
You are the only slayer out here in deepest space, as far as they
know," Rosa said.
"You're here."
"But they don't know
that." LaVelle smiled grimly. "They think we're dead. And that's what we want them to think."
"So you don't
fight?"
"We fight when we have
to. But for the most part we live
peacefully." Rose frowned. "But something has changed."
Marion nodded. "And the dreams are getting worse. You're having them too, aren't you,
Christine?"
Christine stared at her,
wondering if she should share any information about the nightmares that were
plaguing her.
"The darkness? The war?" Laura said, her expression
making it clear that she'd had them too.
"Oh, those dreams,"
Christine said, trying to repress a shudder at the thought of the one that had
woken her in the middle of the night.
"It's coming," Rosa
said.
Marion stepped forward. "The day is approaching."
"And legion will
die," LaVelle finished.
"Even to the littlest
one," Laura finished.
Christine started to back
away, spooked and irritated at the same time.
"Look, I don't know what day you all think is coming, but I'm
pretty sure my schedule is booked."
"Gotterdammerung,"
Rosa said quietly.
Christine froze as the word
caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.
"It gives you the
chills, doesn't it?" Laura moved
closer, reached out and touched the back of Christine's neck. "Right here."
"Well, I know what the
word means. It's a scary word."
"But it's just a
story," LaVelle countered.
"Just a myth, right?"
Marion was staring at
Christine sympathetically.
"Gotterdammerung. 'The
Twilight of the Gods.' But it's not _the_
final battle between good and evil, as we were taught in school, it's just one
of many final battles between slayers and vampires. And this time it is our turn to fight. Some of us will never again see Kirsu."
"So much for being
retired. When does it take place?"
"It already has,"
Rosa said. "Gotterdammerung is
happening right now. It's happened
before, myriad times. And it's coming soon."
"Great. Cryptic slayers. My favorites.
Okay, so when does your Gotterdammerung happen?"
Laura, who had dropped her
hand but hadn't moved away, touched Christine's arm. "It's now. Or nearly so.
And it's not _our_ Gotterdammerung.
You're a part of this, too."
Christine laughed
softly. "How do you figure
that?"
"Because you were meant
to come to Kirsu. We were led to
you." Marion gave her a sad smile.
"And you're having the
dreams. I bet most of the slayers on
Earth aren't." Laura looked at
LaVelle.
"I'm sure they're
not. We're going to have to fight. Many will die." LaVelle looked at the others. "We need you on our side. When it's time. To hunt.
To fight."
"To die?"
"Possibly." LaVelle's eyes
locked with hers. "Wouldn't it be a
relief in some ways?"
Christine saw something in
the woman's eyes. Something she often
saw in her own. LaVelle was tired. Tired enough to want to die.
"Stop it. We're not going to die," Laura
said. She turned to Christine. "We're not."
It suddenly hit home for
Christine that the young girl already had died.
All these women had. Even she
had. They had all cheated death. Could they do it again? She looked at Laura's pleading face and
nodded firmly, not precisely sure when she had gone from observer to
participant. "We're not going to
die."
Rosa seemed about to speak,
when LaVelle said urgently. "He
comes. Her Vulcan lover."
"We will talk again
soon," Laura said, as she touched the clear stone in a ring she wore. A portal opened and the others quickly walked
through.
"That's it?"
"We'll be back. Maybe you can come to Kirsu for a
visit," Laura said with a wink as she stepped through the portal. It snapped shut behind her, leaving no
evidence that it had ever existed.
"Christine?" Spock walked out the back door. "What are you doing?"
"I found the
slayers."
"In this alley?" he
asked, looking into the shadows.
She nodded. "They seem to be shy around
outsiders."
He touched her head,
"You are sure you saw them?"
She smiled. "I'm not going crazy." She frowned.
"There's a war coming, Spock."
"So the bartender
indicated, after I had finally convinced the Benioth
demon that I was not going to pay him any additional credits no matter how many
fanciful accompaniments he added to his story." Spock looked around. "Where did the slayers go?"
"Kirsu," she said softly,
the word somehow soothing her.
"Some other dimension, I think.
There was a portal. They said
they'd be back."
"Fascinating."
She turned to smile at
him. "Let's get back to the
ship."
He nodded agreement and
pulled out his communicator. "Spock
to Enterprise. Two to beam
up."
As the transporter took them,
Christine thought she saw a flicker of fire at the far end of the alley. Then it was gone. You're imagining things, she told herself, as
she materialized on the platform.
Nothing could have snuck up on five slayers.
------------------------------------
"Hi again." Laura
tried to suppress a giggle as Christine whirled in her chair.
"How did you get in my
quarters?"
Laura grinned. "The portal knows no boundaries,
Christine." She tried to switch to
a serious expression but was having a hard time not laughing. "Don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I just think a little warning might be
nice." Christine gave Laura a stern
look but couldn't keep it from turning into a smile. "What if Spock had been in here?"
"Is he in here a
lot?"
"That's none of your
business."
Laura laughed. "Which can only mean yes. I guess I'm lucky I didn't interrupt you
two." She giggled again as she
began to walk around Christine's quarters, touching a knick-knack, studying a
picture. There was one that showed
Christine and her parents when the older slayer had been about the same age as
Laura. "You've had a long
life."
"For a slayer, you
mean?"
Laura nodded absently, then
looked up at her. "Velle says you
ran away. Is it true?"
Christine's face
tightened. "I retired."
"Which means you ran
away? Hid?"
"That's one way to look
at it, I guess. I suppose it's how
LaVelle looks at it."
"She can be kind of
tough," Laura agreed as she sat down on Christine's bed. "Are you feeling better?"
Christine nodded. "We heal fast."
"You heal really
fast. Rosa took a lot longer to heal
after Anacost--" Laura realized she
was probably saying too much.
"A vampire? You have enemies? I thought Kirsu was Nirvana."
Laura shook her head. "It will be. After Gotterdammerung. Then we'll quit fighting for good."
"Quit fighting
Anacost?" Christine prodded.
"It may not be him. We don't know yet who will amass the
army."
"But you know there'll
be an army?"
Laura felt a surge of
frustration. "There's always an
army, Christine. Wouldn't be
Gotterdammerung without it."
"No, I guess it
wouldn't."
Christine's comm panel
chimed. "Spock to Chapel."
Christine motioned for Laura
to move out of view of the comm screen.
"Chapel here."
Laura watched as the older
slayer's expression softened. She
wondered if Christine was even aware that just talking to the Vulcan put her at
ease. When Christine broke the connection
and turned back to her, Laura asked softly, "What's it like?"
"What's what like?"
"Being in
love?" She walked slowly back to
the bed. "I've never been. Hardly even had any friends before
Kirsu."
"How do you know I'm in
love?"
Laura smiled. "Your face, when you talked to him just
now. It got all soft."
"I'll have to watch
that." Christine grinned back.
"So what's it like? Love."
"It's great."
"Great how?"
Christine considered the
question. "It makes you more than
just yourself. Suddenly you're two. It's nice."
Laura smiled. "And the touching? Is that nice too?"
Christine smiled. "That's very nice."
Laura threw herself back onto
the bed. "When this is all over,
I'm going to fall in love. Or maybe go
to the beach or climb a mountain. I
can't decide."
Christine laughed. "I bet you can do all three."
"That would be
fun," the young slayer agreed. Then
she sat up suddenly. She'd almost
forgotten why she was really here.
"Oh, Velle wanted you to know you're going to be needed. They'll be by for you."
"They will?"
Laura nodded. "We have this contact. He usually has information for them."
"You keep saying
'they'. You're not going?"
Laura shook her head, trying
not to feel left out. "It'll be
just you and Velle and Marion."
"When are they
coming?"
Laura shrugged. "It all depends on Tolvar. He can be kind of hard to find. They'll be here once they figure out where
he's gone."
"Who's Tolvar?"
"Our contact." Laura wasn't sure how much she was supposed
to say.
Christine rolled her eyes,
but didn't press. "And they'll just
come popping into my cabin like you did?"
Laura laughed, imagining the
things they might interrupt. "I'll
tell them to peek first. Wouldn't want
to interrupt you and your lover."
Christine scowled at
her. "That word coming out of your
mouth sounds just wrong. What are
you? Fourteen?"
"Lover, lover,
lover," Laura teased her, again throwing herself back on the bed. She looked over at Christine. Saw that the older woman was watching her
with a fond look. Laura smiled at
her. "I'm sixteen, I just look
young."
Christine looked down.
"I was fifteen when I
died. Had just been called. Wasn't a very good slayer, I guess. But now I'm better. Velle trains with me. She'll keep me alive." Laura shifted
"But who cares about me. I want
to know about you. I want to hear your
story."
Christine shook her
head. "No, you don't. LaVelle's
right. I ran and hid."
"Not at first. And not now.
I heard you took out Drusilla, is that right? Velle was not happy having to admit that. A master vamp...that is so cool."
Christine's face
tightened. "I don't want to talk
about Drusilla."
Laura wondered what had
happened to make her react that way.
"What about Spike? I heard
he was there too?"
"He wasn't there."
"No?"
Christine shook her head
firmly. "Spike died a long time
ago. Learn your history, Laura."
Laura watched her
closely. It had been her experience that
people turned and attacked for no reason like Christine had just done only when
they were trying to hide something. "Fine,
we won't talk about them."
"Fine." Christine turned back to her monitor.
"Can you tell me what
it's like then to have a normal life?"
Laura sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them in close
to her chest. "I'd like to have
something to look forward to."
Christine turned around and
nodded. "What do you want to
know?"
Laura grinned. "How'd you keep it a secret for so
long?"
Christine shook her
head. "It wasn't easy." She began to tell her story.
Laura was so engrossed in the
tale that she lost all track of time.
"I have to go," she said suddenly, jumping off the bed with a
start. She reached for the stone on her
ring that would call the portal but then impulsively turned and gave Christine
a quick hug. "I'm glad you didn't die,"
she whispered. Then she called the
portal and jumped through it back to her home.
----------------
"You are distracted
tonight," Spock noted from the chair where he was studying a padd. "Has something happened?"
She looked over at him
guiltily. "One of the slayers
dropped in on me yesterday."
His eyebrow slowly rose. "And you are just now telling me?"
She got up and walked over to
him. "I don't know why I didn't
tell you earlier." She moved his
padd aside, sat down in his lap and wrapped her arms around him.
"If you are trying to
distract me, it will not work. I am
concerned that you kept this from me."
She tapped him on the
forehead. "Why couldn't you just
sense it?"
He frowned. "That is an evasion. Distract, evade, next you will attack."
She smiled. "You know me too well." She leaned in and kissed him.
"That is not precisely
the attack I expected."
"No?" She kissed him again. "You'd prefer I get mad at you?"
He pulled her closer. "Truthfully, no. But the question remains. What did she want?"
Christine pulled away,
considered the question. "I think
she just wanted to talk mostly. She told
me that two of the other slayers would need my help soon. But then she just wanted to know what it was
like?"
"It?"
"Having a real life. Love.
That sort of thing."
"Ah." He studied her, tried to read her. Ever since her death, she seemed to be
pulling away from him. Slowly, almost
imperceptibly. But there was definitely
a distance between them that had not been there before. "What did you tell her of love?"
She raised an eyebrow at him,
mimicking his look perfectly. "Why
that is was a very good thing, of course."
He ran his hands down her
arms, felt the familiar heat of her as she shifted closer to him. "Is it, Christine?"
She looked at him
quizzically. "Of course it
has. Wouldn't you agree with that
assessment?"
He gave her a small smile,
even as he wondered at her ability to dance around the subject. At times, she reminded him of a Vulcan in her
reticence, when it came to discussing her deepest emotions. "You know that I agree. I am merely trying to ascertain why you are
pulling away from me."
She frowned. "I'm not pulling away." She leaned in and kissed him. "I'm right here," she said huskily.
He gently touched his fingers
to the psi points on her face but did not initiate the meld. He felt her tense under his touch. "You do not want this?"
"I didn't say
that."
"That is not a
resounding yes, Christine." He
moved his fingers from the meld position, and stroked her cheek instead. "What is wrong?"
She leaned in. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong."
Holding her close, he strove
for a casual tone as he said softly, "I have heard that it is common for
humans to tire of a relationship. And
that it can be difficult to tell a partner that this is so. If that is the case here, Christine..."
She sat up and stared at
him. "You think I'm tired of
you?"
He shrugged, a gesture he
normally avoided but one that in this instance seemed appropriate.
Her face fell. "Oh, Spock. God, no.
No, that's not it at all."
He felt a profound sense of
relief. She had come to mean so much to
him. And since she had died, since he'd
had to deal with losing her, losing the feel of her in his mind, he'd been
struggling with his own emotions.
She looked down. "It's just...so much is going on right
now. These slayers. And the dreams..."
"And the
dreams." It was the one place he
couldn't follow her, couldn't protect her.
And she took the dreams as gospel.
Set in stone. He thought that
after all their time together she would learn that destiny was mutable. But she seemed to cling to the idea of her
fate being already written. And she
would not tell him what this dream had been about. But whatever it dealt with, it had her afraid. Afraid and ready to run.
"Christine, we will
fight whatever this is together. I
lo--" He broke off as a portal
formed in the middle of the room.
A dark face peeked out, saw
them and instantly scowled. As the
slayer stepped fully into the portal, she gestured impatiently at Christine,
ignoring Spock completely. "We need
you."
As Christine climbed off his
lap, Spock said evenly, "I don't believe we have been introduced."
"You're right. We haven't." The other slayer turned to Christine. "Get your gear and let's go."
A blonde woman appeared at
the portal. She smiled at Spock and
said, "Don't mind LaVelle. She has
issues." She dodged the jab the
first slayer tried to aim at her ribs.
"My name is Marion. And
we'll take good care of Christine."
Christine approached the
portal. Spock noticed that she had
several knives strapped to her body, as well as a good supply of stakes. She saw him inspecting her and grinned. "I'll be careful."
"See that you
are."
"Come on," LaVelle
said, pulling her into the portal. In a
flash, it was gone, leaving Spock alone in Christine's quarters.
Do not worry about her, he
ordered himself as he picked up the padd.
It took him several seconds to realize he was holding it upside down.
-----------***-------------------------
"Do you ever miss
it?" Christine asked as they walked down the dusty street.
"What? All of this?" LaVelle shook her head. "What's to miss?"
"The people. I mean other people."
"Normal
people?" Marion grinned at her as she
scanned the alleyway they were passing.
"I didn't say
that."
"You didn't have
to." LaVelle scowled. "You think just because you live in the
world that you're really a part of it?"
Christine shot her a look.
"I'm serious. You think serving on that fancy ship and
sleeping with the Vulcan makes you normal?
Makes you one of them?"
Marion rolled her eyes. "Here we go. Why don't you give us your pet theory on
romance, Velle?"
"It's not _my_ theory
and you know it. The Watcher's Council
would be the first to agree with me."
"Oh, well, that makes it
immediately convincing," Christine scoffed.
"Sure, the watchers are
jerks. And they use us. But they aren't always wrong. Especially not about this. Relationships get in the way. They make us weak. They make us dead."
"I'm still breathing
because of the relationship I'm in.
Spock saved me."
"And someday when the
nasty monster comes for him? Who'll be
there to save him? You?" LaVelle frowned. "I've heard about Anticles. He killed your lover. You'd risk that again? Put everyone you care about at risk?"
Christine tried not to
remember how Anticles and his sire Dru had turned her
lover Marcus into the vicious vampire Markosius. How she had been forced to strike Marcus
down, how she had almost not found the strength to do so. Again it had been Spock that had saved her,
brought her back to herself. Given her
the strength to act. "So what's
your answer? Live apart? Live alone?"
"Oh, I'm not saying a few
nights of passion here and there won't clear your head. But love?
A lasting relationship? I'll
pass."
"You don't know what
you're missing," Christine said.
LaVelle didn't respond and
Christine didn't push it.
"It's down here,"
Marion said as they turned onto a quiet business street. The businesses were closed for the night
except for one small store at the end of the street.
"What's the story on
this Tolvar?" Christine asked.
"Andorian
fortune-teller. Happens to like
slayers. He moves around a lot. Always seems to be where there's a hotspot
though."
"Andorian?"
Christine asked with a frown.
"You know
him?" Marion asked as she pushed
the door open.
The old Andorian smiled at
them. "Ah, the energy that comes in
with a pack of slayers. Truly
exhilarating. And you've added a new
member. Hello again, Slayer."
Christine recognized
him. He had been in the market on Andus IV, when she and Spock had been searching for a
vampire that had been targeting victims with copper-based blood. "You get around," she said with a
nod.
"I do. I like to be where the slayers are. Such wonderful excitement." His smile faded. "And how many times does Gotterdammerung
happen?"
"Probably more often
than any of us would like to admit," LaVelle said as she plopped down in
the chair across from him. "What
have you found out for us, Tolvar?"
"The vampires are being
drawn to the fields of Sekanik. On Vega Hydra."
"Why there?"
Tolvar shrugged. "Some prophecy or other, no doubt. About the Orb."
"The orb of what?"
Christine asked.
Tolvar smiled grimly. "Just the Orb. The first orb. Ever.
Very powerful. Very
destructive. It's what they want. It's what they'll fight for." He turned to a small display case, pulled out
an ancient book. "If they kill
enough of you and perform the right spell, they'll bring on endless
night."
"That's
impossible," Christine said even as she sensed that what he said was
true. It explained the dreams.
"You know that it's
not," Marion corrected gently.
"We've all seen it. When we
sleep."
LaVelle nodded, as Tolvar
passed the book to her. She studied the
picture. "For something that's gonna ruin our lives, it's awfully pretty."
"Beauty is sometimes
deadly," the Andorian agreed.
Christine moved closer to
take a look. The orb was indeed
pretty. Carved seemingly from one piece
of gold, it changed hue as if it was on fire.
It was crusted with gems and intricately carved pieces of other
metals. She read the caption: 'Once kept
in the open and revered as a sacred object for its ability to provide hope and
inspiration, after its dangerous power to confer darkness upon a world became
apparent, the Orb was imbued with mystical protection by its maker and given
over to a demon, who guarded it for a thousand years before passing the duty on
to a successor.'
"Nice," Christine
said. "Why hasn't anyone just
destroyed it?"
Tolvar shook his head. "Its negative potential is far
outweighed by the good it has done. For
countless millennia, it has provided inspiration and hope, as its maker
intended it to."
"Who was its
maker?" Marion asked as she crowded in to look at it.
"Legend says it was one
of the old ones. In the guise they wore
during your planet's golden age."
"One of the
gods?" Christine looked up. "You can't be serious."
Tolvar smiled, his antenna
moving as he shrugged. "Who can say
if the old myths are true? Certainly
enough of them bear the same details, speak of the same occurrences. In any case, it is of mystical origin."
"Mystical,"
Christine murmured. "I'm so sick of
mystical."
LaVelle stood up. "Where do we find it?"
Tolvar made a face.
"What?" Marion handed him the book. "They don't have it yet. I'd know it, if they did."
"They do not have
it. No one knows where it is kept. But they are looking. They are looking very hard. You must follow the vampires, if you wish to
find the Orb."
"Wouldn't it be easier
just to look for the Orb?"
Christine turned to stare at him.
"Surely someone must know where it is? What about this demon guardian? Do we know what kind of demon? That might narrow it down."
Tolvar shook his head.
"You don't know or you
won't say?" Christine pressed.
LaVelle watched him. "Tolvar, you've always been a friend to
us. Do you want to give us a reason now
to think you're not?"
"It's not safe," he
whispered. "For you, for her, for
the Orb." He looked directly at
Christine. "You may have to destroy
the Orb. And whoever does that will pay
a tremendous price."
"Death?"
He shook his head. "Worse."
Marion sighed. "Why is it always worse?"
"We can't let the
vampires have it," LaVelle said firmly.
"We'll worry about the price if it comes to that." She gave Tolvar a hard look. "How do we find it?"
"Follow those who desire
it most."
"We can't just chase a
bunch of vampires around. We don't even
know which vampires to follow," Christine pointed out.
He smiled
apologetically. "Did I leave that
out? It's Anacost."
Marion blanched.
"Sorry, my dear,"
the Andorian said.
"Anacost killed Helene, the
slayer that discovered Kirsu and founded our sanctuary," LaVelle
explained. "He's killed six of her
successors, nearly killed Rosa too a few years ago. We've all got scars from fighting
him." She turned back to
Tolvar. "It's always personal isn't
it? Gotterdammerung?"
He nodded, glanced over to
Christine. "Those with no stake
stand to lose the most," he said.
"A slayer always has a
stake," she quipped.
"You cheated fate more
than once, Slayer. Be careful she does
not look you up specially this time."
As the Andorian turned away
from her, Christine felt her skin crawl.
It's just another fight, she told herself firmly. Nothing to worry about.
But as LaVelle opened a
portal to take her back to the ship, she found it suddenly very hard to believe
that.
--------------------------------------
Laura felt her nerves bunch
as LaVelle handed her a supply of stakes.
They were going after Anacost.
Taking the fight to him. And
making sure he didn't get the Orb that Tolvar had told her friends was the key
to Gotterdammerung.
She knew that the Enterprise
was also speeding on its way to the planet where the Orb was safeguarded. Laura had been sent to tell them as soon as
Rosa had determined where their old enemy was heading. Anacost had not even tried to cover his
tracks.
Perhaps it was a trap?
"He cannot kill us
now," Marion said, reading her thoughts as she sometimes did. "He needs a great many of us to die in
the battle if he wants to bring on endless night."
"Not very
comforting," Laura smiled.
"Enough chit chat,"
LaVelle said with irritation. "It's
time."
"Aren't you forgetting
something?" Rosa walked in. She handed LaVelle the stake she had carved
and infused with magic. "Take
care. All of you. I don't have to tell you how dangerous he
is."
"Or how dangerous the
demon will be, if she realizes we want to destroy the Orb." LaVelle looked grim.
"How do we destroy
it?" Laura asked.
Rosa shook her head. "That's not clear. If all else fails, try using the demon's
dagger on it."
"Maybe the phasers
Christine was telling me about..." Laura suggested.
"No. That's just more fire. You need to find something that doesn't
complement its natural element."
Rosa walked down the line.
"You three are my chosen.
You know that? You will lead the
rest of us to victory."
Laura saw a rare look of
tenderness cross LaVelle's face. "No, Rosa. _You_ will lead us there. We are just the instruments of your
hand."
Rosa's hand lingered on LaVelle's face.
"Good hunting."
Marion called the portal and
they crossed through, found themselves in front of the entrance to a large
cave. A few moments later, Christine
beamed down with her Vulcan and a man that Laura had not seen before.
"This is my captain,
James T. Kirk," Christine explained.
"And you know Spock."
She ruffled Laura's bangs.
"Well, some of you do.
Spock, this is Laura."
He nodded graciously. "Christine has spoken fondly of
you."
"She's said some nice
things about you too," Laura said with a laugh. Then she turned to LaVelle. "We're all here, Velle."
"Yes, we are," the
dark slayer said, as a tall slender vampire stepped out of the shadows. A horde of other vampires followed him. "Anacost," she said defiantly.
"Kirsu scum," he
said with a mocking smile. "And who
is this? Newcomers to our little
game?" He turned to Christine. "You are an old one too, I see."
"Not as old as
you."
"No. I imagine you've never seen anything like
me."
Christine rolled her
eyes. "I've fought beside
Drusilla. I think I know from old."
Laura wondered why Christine
had chosen to put it that way. She'd
heard that the older slayer had fought against Drusilla. She glanced a LaVelle, who was staring at
Christine in surprise and a smattering of suspicion.
Anacost burst into laughter. "I like you. You have spirit."
"Funny, I don't like
you."
"And you bring two
mortals with you? How quaint." Dismissing her, Anacost turned and yelled
into the cavern. "You know what we
come for, demon! Come out and deliver
it."
Laura tensed as a woman
slowly walked into view. She appeared to
be mostly human, but her eyes glowed and flickered as if on fire.
"This is no place for
your kind, vampire." In front of
her, the wards sealing the cave entrance shimmered.
Anacost smiled. "I'll be the judge of that."
"Somehow I think
not," LaVelle said mockingly, as she hefted the stake Rosa had given her.
He turned to the dozen or so
vampires flanking him. "Kill them
all."
"That's our cue,"
LaVelle said, moving forward.
"Remember first we stop them, then we get the Orb."
Laura had the feeling the
demon wasn't going to give it up to them any easier than she was to Anacost and
his vampires, but she pulled out a stake.
Turning to Christine and the two men, she asked, "Are you all set?"
Christine nodded, and with a
whispered, "Stay back," to Spock and her captain, pulled out her own
stake and joined Laura.
"Let's do it." Laura grinned, as she headed for the nearest
vampire. She made short work of him and
moved on to the next one. He too fell
under her stake quickly. She looked over
at Christine.
"Something's wrong. This is too easy." Christine looked around.
"They're freshly
turned," Marion cried out, as she drove her stake into the heart of a
female vampire that barely raised her hands in self defense. "Where are his usual followers?"
Laura looked back and saw
Spock and Kirk holding their own against more of the fledglings. "Christine, over there" she said,
pointing behind LaVelle, where a mob of other vampires was quickly approaching.
As they ran back toward the
new vampires, Laura caught a view of Anacost striding toward the woods. Another group of vampires were clustered
there, standing around a second demon whose eyes flickered and burned much like
the Orb's guardian. She was
chanting.
"Christine, wait,"
Laura called, and the other slayer turned back to her. "Look," she said, pointing at the
cave.
"No!" the guardian
of the Orb screamed, as the wards fell.
The vampires parted and the
other demon fell to her knees. She was
bound by some strange containment belt.
"I'm sorry, Alma," she said to the guardian.
Alma stared at her. "Calyx, why?"
"I didn't know what he
was until it was too late." She
looked at Anacost who walked over to her and kissed her harshly.
"He was your date?"
Alma asked in horror.
As Calyx nodded, her face
full of shame, Anacost reached up and hit a button on the belt. A forcefield of
some kind emerged and surrounded her.
Calyx began to scream, finally bursting into flame, which was quickly
sucked out as the forcefield pulled all the air from
the space inside.
"Pity. I did so love playing with fire." Anacost turned to Alma. "Your wards are gone and Calyx's spell
will leave you stuck in your current form for at least the next few hours. It will be as easy for me to kill you, as it
was to kill her. Now, give me the
Orb."
"No."
"I said--"
LaVelle stepped forward. "Who cares what you said. She said, 'No'."
Anacost sneered at her. "Has that collarbone healed since the
last time we met?"
"Good as new,"
LaVelle spat back.
"Is it?" Christine
mouthed to Laura.
Laura shook her head
tightly.
"In that case, I look
forward to crushing it again."
Anacost began to move, even as the rest of his vampires rushed the
others.
Laura found herself in a real
fight. These were no fledglings. She struck and countered and worked hard for
each opportunity to drive her stake home.
Again and again. One of the
vampires grabbed her from behind and she felt his teeth sink into her
neck. Then he exploded into dust. She turned to see Christine's Spock standing
there. "Thanks."
He nodded and moved into the
crowd to join Christine. The other
slayer seemed to be lost in the bloodlust of the fight. She didn't notice as one of the vampires grabbed
Spock and spun him around.
"No!" Laura
screamed as she hurried to help but it was too late. The vampire had Spock's stake in his
hand. He slammed it into the Vulcan's
chest. Spock fell like a stone.
Christine suddenly staggered
and turned. "Spock!" she
screamed, distracted enough that the vampire she was fighting was able to get
in a vicious kick that sent her flying toward the Orb's demon. They both went sprawling. The demon did not get up, but Christine
struggled to her feet.
LaVelle and Anacost separated
and three other vampires came up to take her on. Anacost moved behind them, then ran into the
cave. When he came out, he carried a
golden sphere.
LaVelle tried to fight her
way to him, but there were too many vampires blocking the way.
Anacost laughed and held the
Orb aloft. "Be glad you are to die
later, slayers. It is the only reason
you will survive tonight." He
tapped a pin on his shirt. "Beam us
up."
The pin lit up. A beacon, Laura realized. To let his ship find him, since he had no
life signs to lock onto. Beacons on the
shirts of the other vampires glowed and they too disappeared.
Laura turned to the fallen
Spock. Kirk was already with him,
staunching the flow of blood, even though it would be useless. A direct hit to the heart was almost
certainly fatal.
Laura heard Christine cry
out, watched as she ran to Spock.
"I'm sorry," Laura said softly, trying to send the other
slayer strength.
She saw Christine react to
Spock's wound, then smile in relief.
Laura frowned. As she approached
and looked down at the green drenched shirt, Kirk, who also seemed to be
smiling in relief, looked over at her.
He seemed to understand her
confusion. "Vulcan hearts are quite
a bit lower than ours. It's a bad hit,
but not life threatening. We should
leave these two alone. Let's go help
her," he said, nodding at the guardian and holding his hand out to guide
Laura toward her. Then he pulled it
back, seemed to realize it was covered with his friend's blood. "Sorry."
"I'm used to
blood."
"Not green though."
Laura smiled. "You'd be surprised the color some
things bleed."
"You're far too young to
know that," he said.
"I hear that a
lot," she agreed.
As they reached the demon,
Alma groaned. Kirk dropped to his
knees. "Lie still. We'll get you up to sickbay."
She pushed herself into a
sitting position. "I don't need
sickbay...whatever that is. I need to go
after the Orb."
"You and me both. I have a slayer that seems to think it's crucial." He wiped his hands on his pants, then helped
her up.
"It is." Alma seemed to get a good look at him and a
look of surprised recognition crossed her face.
"Have we met?"
"I think I'd remember if
we had." Kirk's smile was charming.
"A dream..." For a moment Alma's face looked frightened,
then she seemed to shake it off.
"You have a ship?"
He smiled. "I have a big ship. Very fast."
"We need to find the
Orb."
"Where do you suggest we
look?" he asked gently.
"The fields of Sekanik. On Vega
Hydra," Marion announced ominously, and they all jumped.
Laura hated it when she did
that. She saw Kirk's face and explained,
"Marion's psychic. She's hardly
ever wrong. Well, plus our informant
told us." She turned to see
Christine and Spock disappear, transported up to their ship.
"Vega Hydra it is
then," Kirk said, turning to Marion.
"Do you need a ride too?"
She shook her head and
motioned for Laura to join her. "We
have our own way back. There is much to
do in the meantime."
"Say goodbye to
Christine for me," Laura told the captain, as she stepped through the
portal. As the light of Kirsu welcomed
her home, she felt the accumulated aches and pains from the fight catch up with
her. She saw LaVelle's
portal open a few feet away from them.
The older slayer stepped through carefully, holding her collarbone.
"You're hurt,"
Laura said, but Rosa appeared at the door and rushed forward. "You didn't stop them," she said as
she eased LaVelle out the door.
"We tried," the
dark slayer gasped. "I'm sorry,
Rosa."
"We will try
again," their leader said firmly.
"When you are all rested."
------------------------------------
Christine helped Spock to
sickbay. McCoy took one look at him and
gestured to the nearest biobed.
"I hope you two aren't
going to make a habit of this."
"It was not my intention
to become injured, Doctor," Spock said with a grimace, as McCoy began to
clean out the wound.
"Nothing vital
hit.'' He turned to Christine. "He's going to be okay, Christine. You can relax now."
She looked up at him slowly,
nodded even though there was no way she could relax. She felt tight and pent up from the
fight.
Spock reached out for
her. "Christine. I am fine."
She nodded again.
McCoy closed the wound and handed
her the regenerator. "Two more
passes. You know the drill." He
shot a look at Spock before walking away.
Christine waited a few
minutes then slowly ran the machine over the wound. Each pass would strengthen the tissue, heal
it. "I almost lost you," she
whispered.
"Yes, now we are
even."
"Don't even joke about
that." She pulled the regenerator
away, glared at him. "Do you think
this is funny? Is this all just a game
to you?"
He tried to pull her close
but she stepped back.
"You are overreacting,
Christine."
"Well, you're underreacting."
"I do not believe there
is such a word."
She ran the machine over his
wound again. "I don't care,"
she muttered as she worked.
"Christine, I am
concerned about you."
"Don't be." She turned the machine off and set it on the
counter near the bed.
"I cannot help it,"
he said, his voice sounding a bit unsure as to how to deal with her.
She turned to stare at
him. Took in the green blood that had
drenched his uniform.
He reached out for her. "I love you, Christine."
She stared at him, felt tears
prickling at her eyes and dashed them away angrily.
It was the first time he'd
ever said that to her. She closed her
eyes, feeling suddenly dizzy.
"Christine, did you hear
me? I love you."
The world tilted again and
she felt sick to her stomach.
"Well, don't do that either."
She spun on her heel and ran out of sickbay. Hurrying down the corridor, she ignored the
voice in her head that told her to go back to him, that urged her to let him
hold her, let him try to make it all right.
It wasn't going to be all
right. It was never going to be all
right.
He loved her.
She heard his voice behind
her and put on extra speed.
He loved her.
And she loved him. God help her, she loved him more than she'd
ever loved anyone.
She hurried down the
corridor. She didn't know exactly where
she was headed. Just away from
Spock. Away from his concern...and his
love. Away from caring this much about
someone. Maybe LaVelle was right. Maybe there really wasn't room in a slayer's
life for romance, for anything more enduring than a night or two of passion.
*Christine,* she heard him
call, concern strong in his mind voice.
She didn't answer. Tried to block her own emotions. She turned into the rec
room and found it too crowded for her taste.
As she turned to go, she ran right into Alma. She put a hand out to steady the woman,
pulled it back quickly when saw the woman's eyes narrow.
"Are you all right,
slayer?" the demon asked softly.
"I'm fine."
Alma reached out, her hand
hot as it came to rest on Christine's arm.
"You need someone to talk to."
Christine shook off her hand
and moved around her. "I have
someone to talk to," she said bitterly.
"Then why aren't you
with him?" Alma called after her.
Christine didn't answer as
she hurried away. Maybe the gym, she
thought, as she turned down that corridor.
It, too, was full of off-duty crewmen.
Damn it, she thought. Think. Where can I find some privacy? Where won't he expect to find me?
She turned and headed back to
the lift, riding it down several decks and heading for the chapel. It was dark tonight, no services being held
and she gratefully sank into a seat near the wall. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light almost
immediately and she realized that someone was sitting on the other side of the
room.
"Do you want me to
go?" Spock asked quietly.
She stared at him. "How?"
"You were trying too
hard not to think about it. You need to
work on that."
She looked down.
He sighed, "Christine,
why is your first instinct always to run from me?"
"You could have died
tonight."
"But I did not. In fact, Doctor McCoy declared me fit for
duty." He touched his chest. "The wound was not that bad. It just bled a lot."
She ignored his attempts to
make her feel better. "I'm putting
you in danger. I was so lost in the
fight; I didn't know where you were.
Didn't realize you were in danger until it was too late."
"I know." He rose slowly, walked over to her. "That can change." He reached out, took her hand in his.
She let him pull her to her
feet.
"Come back to your
quarters. We need to speak in
private."
They walked in silence to the
lift; she met his eyes as they rode to her floor. He stared back, his expression even,
unconcerned. Yet through the link that
she had stopped trying to block, she could feel his frustration. And something stronger. Fear.
*Yes, Christine. I am afraid.
Afraid I am losing you. Afraid
you will give this up without a fight.*
She didn't answer as she led
him down the hall and into her quarters.
Didn't put his mind at ease as she sat down on the sofa, watched him
strip off his ruined shirt and clean the blood off his chest. Pulling on another shirt, he sat down next to
her.
*Give me your thoughts, your
emotions. I cannot read you.*
She looked away.
He switched to words. "I can feel your love for me,
Christine. It colors everything, even if
you will not admit you feel it. Just as
my love colored everything for you, even though I could not speak of it to
you."
She closed her eyes.
He continued softly, "If
I thought you had lost that feeling, I would go away. I would not force you to confront something
you are so obviously unwilling to face. But
I do feel your love. It is illogical for
you to run from me." He touched her
hair gently.
"I can't lose you,"
she whispered.
"So to keep from losing
me, you would leave me? Where is the
logic in that?" He turned her face
gently. His fingers rested on the meld
points, and she felt his mind hovering at the edges of her consciousness. *We have shared our thoughts enough for you
to know how strong the connection is. And the love that neither of us has wanted to
admit to has bonded us, Christine. But this bond is preliminary at best, very
far from complete. It can be made
stronger. More encompassing. If you wish it? If you love me enough.* He waited.
She looked up at him
helplessly. It was such a relief to let
the words out, to finally tell him, *I do love you.*
A flood of emotion erupted
from him. Relief, happiness,
desire. He pulled her closer. *Then invite me in.*
For a second, she
tensed. Then she realized he had used
the phrase deliberately. He knew the
vampire lore. He knew what he was asking
her to do. It would be like letting the
vampire in, giving in to him, to herself.
Admitting that what was between them could endure. Admitting it, even though she had given up
many years ago on ever having anything but a lonely and gray existence.
*I can't come in unless you
invite me, Christine.* His other hand
reached around and rubbed her neck.
*Words, use words. This is too much. Too intimate.* She tried to pull away.
*No. This way there will be no
misunderstanding. If you run from this,
if I feel that you do not want this, I will go away. I will not force this on you.*
*If I say no, then you will
leave me alone?*
He seemed to sigh through the
meld. *If that is what you wish.*
She wavered.
And he dropped the guard he normally
kept around his feelings, the control that had kept his emotions in check in
the past, had kept him from letting go.
He dropped it and laid his heart bare.
She forgot how to
breathe. The almost too intense
sensation of being loved by him battered at her in a way that was both
frightening and pleasurable. In that
moment, she knew all. Saw that he would never leave her voluntarily. Saw that he loved her passionately and
without reservation, in a way that surprised him as much as it did her. That scared him as much as it scared
her. Saw that for her, he had given in
to the emotions, was willing to open up to them and stop fighting.
She saw his fear that she
never would. That she would run from him
forever. That she would never love him,
not the way she should. Not the way they
both needed.
*It's too much,* she
said. * I am not worth this, Spock.*
And then, in the midst of all
the love, he sent her a different picture.
Not of Christine the woman he loved, but of Christine the Slayer. She felt the certainty within him that she
was worthy. That she would prevail in
any fight, that she would protect them all.
That she would survive to love him.
That she could love him. That she
would go on loving him.
*Even though I died three
weeks ago?*
*You are not dead now.*
*Only because of you.*
Spock's mind voice was full
of gentle amusement. *A strong argument
for my position then.*
*You never lose faith in me.*
*You are the slayer,* he said
simply. *You will triumph.*
She felt his hands pulling
her close, his lips on hers. *Spock.*
*I love you. Now, let me know what you feel. You guard yourself better than a Vulcan
would. Let me in, Christine.*
*I don't know,* she answered
helplessly.
And she felt him begin to
close down, felt him pull away. A vast
feeling of sadness filled her and she realized it was coming from him. *If you truly do not wish it.*
*Don't,* she called after
him.
He stopped pulling away. *Don't what?*
She drew him to her, kissed
him softly. *Don't leave me.*
*Don't leave you
tonight? Or don't leave you ever?* There was no teasing in his tone. He was deadly serious.
She buried her face in his
chest. *I love you, Spock.*
*Then show me how much,
Christine. I have not forced this but it
is time to make a choice. You cannot do
this halfway any longer. Neither of us
can.*
He was right. She had to choose. She felt the barriers she'd built up over the
years crumble as she reached out for him.
*I love you. I love you so much I
feel as if I'm drowning.*
She felt him react to her
surrender. Expected him to pull back in
the face of such raw emotion but he did not.
He met her, held her. Loved her.
She felt a slow burning
begin, a flame running along the link between them.
*Do you want this,
Christine?*
*I do.*
*It will be forever. There is no going back.* His hand caressed her even as he waited. *You will never be alone again, my love. Neither of us will.*
She felt the flame growing
hotter and stronger. He wanted her,
wanted her so much it would have been overwhelming if she hadn't wanted him in
exactly the same way.
*Finish it, Spock.*
*You are sure?*
*Finish it. I love you.
I want you. Forever.*
He kissed her even as the
fire roared into the link; burning the space between them as it forged a bond
so strong and powerful it left her gasping.
*Parted from thee and never
parted,* she whispered, unsure how she knew the words.
*Never and always touching
and touched,* he finished.
Pure raw desire rose within her
as the bond flared again at their words.
She felt Spock responding as he pushed her back onto the couch, pulled
her clothes off roughly.
*Hurry,* she sent, desperate
to feel him. As he touched her, she felt
the resonance of what he felt. She pulled
his lips to hers and felt both of their pleasure.
*My love,* he said through
the bond, and she felt the words as they expanded and filled her.
*My love,* she replied,
opening herself to him even as she ripped his uniform from him.
*Yes,* he urged her.
And then she proceeded to
love him-- the way she always should have but hadn't allowed herself to--for
the rest of the night.
----------***-----------------
Alma stared out at the stars
from the viewscreen in her cabin, then she turned to make her way to the rec room. As she
walked the busy corridors, she realized that Kirk had not exaggerated. This was a big ship. And it appeared to be going very fast. She could feel the force of the engines
filling her. Could read the energy of
the crew. There was power all around
her. From the group of professionals he
had assembled, to the mighty weapons that would defend them.
He had assigned her quarters
in the VIP section. Had escorted her
there himself and, seeing how adrift she was as she walked through the cabin,
had offered to meet her for a drink once they got underway. Only if she wanted,
of course. She had looked at him and
again felt a frisson of fear, of dread.
But also had felt something else.
A strange sense of loss and of affection.
Who is this Jim Kirk? she
wondered to herself, as she tried to get her bearings. Why do I feel as though I know him? Helpful crewmembers corrected her course
each time she got lost, until finally she arrived at the rec
room doors. She took a deep breath, and
stepped forward, moving right into the path of the slayer. Alma was knocked off balance and the woman
reached out to steady her. At her touch,
Alma felt turmoil rush through her and something more...something darker. How dark, she wasn't sure.
The
woman...Christine...jerked her hand away.
Alma tried to pitch her voice
as low as she could, "Are you all right, slayer?"
"I'm fine."
Alma reached out, felt her
skin heat up as it touched the slayer's.
There was definitely something wrong here. "You need someone to talk to." As she said it, she got a strong picture of
the Vulcan that had fought beside Kirk.
Had a sense of Christine's great love for him. A love she was unwilling to truly
acknowledge. Alma saw him being left
behind.
Christine shook off her hand
and moved around her. "I have
someone to talk to," she said bitterly.
"Then why aren't you
with him?" Alma called after her.
The slayer just hurried away.
Alma shook her head and made her way through the doors, finding a
comfortable chair that would let her watch the streaming stars.
She put her head back and
stared out into space. The captain
needed to be warned.
She heard the doors open
again, didn't need to check to see if it was Kirk or not. She knew it was. She recognized the vital essence of him, the
energy that went ahead of him. It sang
to her as surely as that of her own kind would have. Most strange, she thought.
"You're early," he
said as he sat down.
"You're late," she
smiled softly.
"I was hoping you
wouldn't notice." He grinned. "You're not drinking?"
She smiled.
"You do drink, don't
you?"
"I can, Captain. I don't often do it. But if it is a special occasion..."
"Call me Jim. And when was the last special occasion?"
"About three hundred
years ago."
His laughter was infectious
and boyish. She found herself grinning
back.
His eyes narrowed. "_Have_ we met before?"
"I asked you that
earlier, or don't you remember?"
She smiled gently.
"I remember. But just then...when you smiled, it was
so..."
"...Familiar," she
finished for him. "I know."
"Do you know why?"
She shook her head.
He stared at her for a long
time. Leaning back in the chair, he
asked, "So you're really a demon?"
She nodded.
"You look very human
right now. Is it difficult for you to
maintain that form?"
"Not at all," she
said as she looked around the room.
"And I thought it would be easier on your crew."
"Considerate of
you."
"Oh, I'm a very nice
demon." Alma smiled again. How long
had it been since she enjoyed a human, or anyone, for that matter, this
much? She'd been alone for so long. Immersed in her duty. Protecting the Orb was the only thing she had
known for five hundred years. Now...with
it gone...
"We'll get it
back," he said, as if reading her mind.
"I'm not so sure we
will. I've been 'reading' your ship
while I've waited. I can sense
disharmony, pain. There's one major
locus of it. Two players within
that. One calm but desperate. One nearly frantic with fear...and she's a
key player in all this, I think."
"You mean
Christine?"
"The slayer,
yes." Alma nodded.
"She saw Spock go down
in battle, had no idea the wound wasn't serious. And she died recently herself but was
resuscitated. I think it's normal for
her to be a bit thrown.
"A bit thrown? Your slayer's on the edge, Jim. And teetering."
"She'll be
okay." He leaned back. "Spock'll make
sure of that."
"I can sense that he
loves her. I hope she's strong
enough."
"Why wouldn't she
be?"
Alma stared at him, her mind
reaching deep inside him for a measure of his soul. She found it, judged him to be brave,
resourceful, good. He could be
trusted. "She is fundamentally damaged,
Jim."
"What does that
mean?"
"I'm not sure yet. I just know it's not good."
"I've seen her
fight. She's overcome some pretty tight
odds."
"This isn't about
fighting, Jim. This is about something
much bigger. I'm not sure she's capable
of giving what will be asked of her."
"I'm sure she
is." He didn't smile this time.
"But you don't really
know, do you? And I'll tell you the
truth. It's not just her. It's all the slayers. They are tragic figures. Grim, short lives, filled with violence and
fighting. Love is a foreign thing to
most of them. From what I can tell,
she's lived long enough to taste normal life, long enough to know love. Maybe that will save her."
"She does love
him."
"Yes, she does. I just hope she loves him more than she fears
losing him."
There was a long silence,
then he said, "You seem to know so much.
What are you really, Alma?"
She sensed that his question
held more than simple curiosity, that he needed to know on a very basic level
what he was dealing with. "I can
show you. Somewhere private?"
He stood up. "My quarters are private," he said
softly.
She nodded, followed him out
and to the lift. The pulse of the ship
filled her as she leaned against the lift wall.
"Your ship is healthy," she said with a smile. She reached out with her mind, felt the
emotions of the crew. "Your crew is
happy. You are a good captain."
"I try to be." The answer would have sounded flip, if she
hadn't seen the spark of emotion that filled his eyes before he turned to lead
her out of the lift.
This was a man that
understood duty.
He opened the door for her
and she walked into his quarters, feeling herself truly relax for the first
time in hours. She walked slowly around
the room, felt the shields he had unconsciously built into the walls, the
door--wards that protected him, made this a safe space for him. A refuge.
"My sanctuary," he
said, again reading her mind.
"Yes," she replied
simply. She had sensed no magic within
him earlier. Yet he had warded his rooms
well enough to allow even a demon such as she to actually relax. Such power, she mused, wondering what he'd be
capable of if he were properly trained.
"You said you would show
me," he said, his voice very near her ear.
She could sense that he found
her human form alluring. Had sensed the
same interest from him when he had rescued her.
She stepped back. "I am a
demon."
He nodded. "So you said. That's not necessarily a bad thing, is
it?"
Alma laughed again, delighted
at his open mind. "In my case it
isn't. I fight for good. As do the rest of my kind. But we are not what you think."
"No?"
"No. We are elemental. Older than time. The first of my kind were forged by
Hephaestus to protect his treasure."
"Forged?"
She nodded. "Out of the elements."
"What was his
treasure?"
"Precious metals melded
with magic and worked into amazing form.
Fire and molten silver to mold into talismans, copper and cold water to
temper into magic chalices. And of
course the Orb. A sphere of perfect
beauty, perfect fiery darkness."
She laughed. "See how poetic
I become when I speak of my origins."
His eyes widened. "Not yours personally?"
"No, not mine
personally. But it was that of my
great-great-great-great grandparents."
She grinned. "I am only a
thousand years old."
"Only." He gulped then reached out and touched her
arm. Let his hand travel down the rough
sleeve until he touched skin. "You
are warm."
"I am hot," she
corrected, as she allowed herself to transform to her true shape.
She gave him credit; he did
not take a step back, barely flinched as the flames that were her arms reached
for him.
"You are hot," he said,
as he let her pull him in. "But you
do not burn."
"Oh, I can. But I don't have to." She let the flames settle into her true
shape, the undulating pattern of the fire outlining her strong rounded body.
"Elemental," he
said, understanding dawning as he relaxed against her.
She felt a surge of something
powerful lance between them. Desire,
certainly. But something else. Something more. Something old and--
"--Familiar," he
whispered, as if in a trance. "So
familiar."
She let him go, and he looked
up at her, his eyes clearing. She felt a
strange emptiness as he slipped from her arms.
"Don't--" she bit back the words she wanted to say.
Then he stepped closer,
murmured her name. "Don't do
this?"
"God, so familiar,"
she whispered, as his hands again ran down her arms, moved to caress her back,
her neck. His touch was so welcome. She had to stifle a moan. It had been so long since anyone had moved
her this way. Always her duty had come
first. The Orb had been everything.
"Alma means soul, did
you know that?"
She nodded. She decided not to tell him that in her
language it meant sorrow.
"It's beautiful. You're beautiful."
"Even like this?"
"Especially like
this." He leaned in, his kiss at
first tentative then growing more sure when her heat did not harm him.
She stopped him. "Jim.
You move me. I want..." She looked away.
"You want what?"
"You. I want you."
"And you see that as a
problem?" His grin again caused her
to laugh.
The sound rippled out of her
like musical notes. It surprised her and
she wondered how long it had been since she had found something funny. But deep down she knew. She had not laughed
since she had become the guardian of the Orb.
"I have my duty to the
Orb."
He pulled her toward his
bed. "And I have my duty to the
ship. Fortunately my ship is making best
speed to your Orb. So I think it's okay
to dispense with duty for a little while.
If you want to?"
She laughed again
softly. "You are wonderful, do you
know that?"
"You're not so bad
yourself." He looked at the
bedspread.
"What?"
"Will it burn? Will we be sleeping on ashes?"
"Don't knock it till
you've tried it," she replied with a grin.
"I'll try anything
once."
"Anything?"
"Well, I can think of a
few things that don't appeal." He
kissed her. "Fortunately you aren't
one of them."
"You're playing with
fire."
"Literally," he
agreed.
She pushed him down on the
bed. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle." As he pulled her to him, she whispered in his
ear, "But that doesn't mean you have to be."
With a chuckle, he rolled her
onto her back, touching her everywhere.
She heard him say her name again, and it sounded sweet and new. The sensation of his hands on her body astonished
her; the contrast of his cool skin against her fire was a revelation. She lost herself in him and for the first
time in five hundred years she didn't think about the Orb at all.
----------------------------------
As the Enterprise carried them
to Vega Hydra, Christine was nearly helpless in the overwhelming sensation of
her new bond with Spock. As he woke her
after the raging night they had spent, the fiery path of the bond still stung
slightly in her--or was it his--head.
She had trouble separating where she ended and he began.
*It is normal, it will pass,*
rang in her head and she could not tell if he thought it or if she did.
*But not just yet,* one of
them said, as he surrendered to her passionate kiss. They made love, letting ecstasy fill them,
never sure which of them was actually experiencing it.
Later, she lay with her head
on his chest, their hands entwined, as the essence of his mind ran through her
thoughts and she explored his feelings.
*We must eat,* he told
her. But neither could bear to leave the
other's side. She found some nutrition
supplements and they forced them down with water from the bathroom faucet.
She laughed at the way his
mind ignored the bland consistency of the food.
He was intent only on eating enough of it to keep his strength up. He raised an eyebrow at the distaste she felt
with each bite. But she made herself
finish it all.
Then they fell on each other
again.
Training was out of the
question.
Finally, hours or days later,
Christine wasn't sure which, she felt Spock push away from her, his body
leaving her side at the same time that his mind started to disengage from
hers. With a supreme effort, he began to
reclaim his own identity and she heard him whisper apology.
*Don't leave me,* she cried,
and as she did, she realized that she would willingly surrender the slayer and
all that she was to live in this bliss forever.
She did not want to go back to that Christine. She did not want to fight anymore.
*You must fight. And I must help you. We cannot do that if we are so completely
one.* His mind voice was loving and
gentle even as he continued to pull away from her.
She closed her eyes tightly,
unwilling to look at him. *Don't leave
me,* she said again, this time more softly.
*I will never leave you, my
love.* His presence rushed over her,
only this time from a greater distance.
*Have you forgotten already? Parted
from me and never parted.*
She felt his love caress her,
urging her to pull back from him as well, to seek to repossess her true
self.
*It was never meant to be
permanent. Life cannot be lived so
completely as one, Christine. There must
always come a moment when we pull away from each other, when we reenter the
world.* He got out of bed slowly.
She felt each step as he
moved away from her. The distance carved
itself on her heart, on her soul. She
moaned.
*Christine, please do not
make this so hard.* His voice was
troubled, his concern evident. *You must
come back. You must let me come back. We have our duty.*
Duty. The word was like a crop, stinging her
flesh. She realized he had chosen it
deliberately. Knew it would goad her
back into her own identity. Knew it
would hurt her.
She opened her eyes and
stared at him. Angrily she tried to rip
her mind away from his.
He gasped in pain.
"Duty hurts," she
chose to say in words, mocking him as she rolled off the bed. Then she fell to her knees as the intense
pain she had just caused him came crashing back on her. She tried to fight it, then gave up and began
to cry. *Oh, god, Spock. I'm sorry.*
He was there immediately, his
arms around her, pulling her to her feet.
*Shhh, this too is normal. The
separation is a test of character. The
transition from two to one is bliss. The
journey back is not so pleasant. It has
always been that way.* He kissed her
gently. *Feel me. Feel my presence within you, Christine. As I can feel you. Never and always touching and touched.*
She reached out for him and
he blocked her.
*Not in me. Feel it within yourself. Find the stillness within you and know that I
am there. That I will always be there.*
As he pulled her close,
stroked her back, she relaxed against him, let her mind find a center, a place
where there was peace. And as she found
it, she found him waiting for her there.
She smiled against his chest.
*You are here.*
He kissed her hair. *I will never leave you. You will never be alone.*
She let him lead her back to
the bed. As he eased them both down, he
pulled her close. *Let me show you the
ways to shield yourself from me. We must
have boundaries. Otherwise we will be a
danger to each other. Especially in a
fight.*
He helped her draw the
borders that would block him. Then he
taught her the many ways to reach out to him from a distance, or from nearer
by. His lips found hers often, and she
realized that he was also having trouble bearing this separation.
*I, too, was lonely,* he told
her. *I, too, would like to hold this
moment forever. But we must not. It is not right. And for us, for you as the slayer, it is too
dangerous.*
Love for him filled her. *You always think of me, of our duty. You are stronger than I am in that respect,
Spock.*
*It is ultimately a selfish
act. If something happened to you because
I did not want to lose this closeness...I would not be able to live with
myself.*
She kissed him. *Nothing will happen to me. Nothing will happen to you.*
He pulled her closer, his
arms roaming her body. *No, for I know
you will protect me...protect us all.
Just as I will protect you.*
As they made love, the
sensation was different than before.
Less overwhelming, more personal.
Their pleasure still overlapped, but she had no doubt this time which
was his and which her own.
As they lay together when it
was over, she felt his mind pulling away from her and she withdrew too, sighing
softly as she did.
*It is the right thing to
do,* he said resolutely.
But she noticed that his arms
tightened around her even as he spoke.
She smiled. "The words of the ceremony. Parted from me and never parted." She
chose to speak in words. "I think
that they're an anchor."
"What do you mean?"
"They're the promise
that if you pull away, you will always be able to find the way back to each
other." She smiled and kissed
him. "Say what you will about logic
and science, but Vulcans are an impossibly romantic people, Spock."
He gave her a small
smile. "I trust you will not share
that insight with Doctor McCoy."
-----------------------------
In the darkness lit only by
the flickering glow of her own body, Alma watched Jim as he slept. He looked innocent and pure. But inside him was a source of power she had
not expected. She felt it each time they
touched. She sensed it when she felt the
wards in his room, and the more subtle protections that filled the ship he
loved so. And he had done it all without
conscious intent.
This one would have made a
formidable sorcerer, she thought with a smile.
He moaned in his sleep and
reached out for her. She smiled as she
felt his strong arms pull her to him. It
had been so long since anyone had touched her this way.
And if she were honest, she
would admit that no one had ever touched her this way.
It was impossible to fall in
love in two days.
And yet she had. Had fallen in love with this stranger who was
not a stranger. Could never be a
stranger. Not when the very touch of him
felt like coming home.
She relaxed against him. She didn't want to sleep. Didn't want to dream of the darkness that would
come. That would show him suffering,
making her suffer. She had not slept
much since the dream first plagued her.
The dream was too strong. Too
real. She did not want to see it again.
Yet she could not forget
it. But already, it didn't seem quite
right anymore. In her dream, Christine
had not been willing to fight. And Alma
thought perhaps that had changed. That
everything had changed for the slayer.
She searched for Christine's essence and smiled when she realized that
she could finally sense her fully again.
It had taken her some time to figure out why the slayer had suddenly
seemed both diminished and enhanced. She
had taken a surreptitious look at the Federation databanks; easily breaking
through safeguards never intended to resist magic to find the real truth.
The Slayer had bonded with
the Vulcan.
Alma felt a shiver at the
words. Bonded. Just as Hephaestus used to bond metal to
metal. And Vulcan. Was it coincidence that Alma was here? She was a child of Hephaestus. Her body a miracle of the art her maker had
perfected on her ancestors, bonding fire and flesh in one enduring
package. Her maker...Vulcan by another
name. And now the slayer was the bondmate
of one from a race who bore the same name.
Alma didn't believe in coincidences.
But she had not been able to
determine what it might mean if it were not pure chance. It probably amused the gods to see her try.
At any rate, Christine Chapel
was back and whole. And training, if the
energy Alma sensed was any indication. Training
with her lover. Alma felt a change in
the energy. She smiled. Training and doing other things. She hoped they had locked the door.
She reached out farther. The vampires were massing. She could feel their dark energy centered
around a brighter spot of energy. The
Orb. It called to her, its strident cry
streaking along the sky. She could see
it in her mind's eye. *Guard me,* it
ordered her. *Protect me.*
But at the same time, it
called to the vampires. Called to them
in a deeper voice, promising night that would last forever. It was a promise that the Orb was fully
capable of keeping.
Duality was the most
dangerous of things. To be beautiful and
deadly. To be inspiring and
catastrophic. All the things most sought
after were like that. Power, wealth,
love.
Alma laughed softly at her
philosophic mood. She reached out
farther with her mind and could feel the other slayers nearby. In the place that was Kirsu, fixed not in
space in this dimension but in need, in soul.
She could call to them if she chose.
They were ready to fight.
She thought of Christine and
her Vulcan. Looked down at Kirk.
She remained silent, did not
call those from Kirsu forth. The fight
could wait a little longer. The Orb
would need the blood of many slayers to bring on the darkness that the vampires
craved. If the slayers stayed away, then
the Orb could not hurt anyone.
Alma thought even the Vulcan
might admire her logic. She wondered if
there was a way to keep those from Kirsu from breaking through. She began to weave a spell. Slowly drawing a web over the veil between
their dimensions.
The web shattered. She sighed.
There would be no denying destiny.
She would be lucky to delay it for a bit. Please let it wait a little while more, she
prayed to gods she was not sure she even believed in anymore.
Calyx had believed in
them. But Calyx was dead; she had died a
pawn and a fool. After a thousand years
of duty.
Duty.
Alma leaned in and nuzzled
Jim's neck, teasing him awake. As he
called out her name, she closed her mind to what was out there waiting for
them. She'd had enough of duty to last a
lifetime. She knew that soon she would
have to put aside Alma, would have to take up once again the mantle of the
Guardian of the Orb. But that could
wait, she thought, as Jim reached for her.
She would be Alma for one more night.
-----------------------------
Laura sat with the others as
they sharpened their weapons or whittled stakes. They would work though the hours to
come. They would prepare their weapons
of death, and they would train, and they would enjoy a last meal. And while they did so, LaVelle and Rosa would
meet with Christine and her friends and plan their strategy. But Laura and the rest...they would
prepare. Prepare for the end to
come. The end of Anacost and his
fiends. Or the end of their own
lives.
Laura touched the tip of the
stake she was working on, found it sharp enough. She did not intend to die.
She looked over at
Marion. The woman had stopped what she
was doing and was sitting quietly, her eyes tightly shut. When she finally opened them, Laura leaned in
so her voice would not carry. "Did
you have a vision?"
Marion looked at her, her
look stricken. "Yes."
"Which of us was
it?" Laura said quietly.
After a moment, Marion
whispered "Rosa and..."
"And?"
Marion ignored the question,
clutched at Laura's arm. "We have
to keep her back. She must not go to
this meeting. We have to keep her here."
"Not go to the
meeting?" Laura realized her voice had
gone up and she lowered it as she said, "She'll never stay back,
Marion. You know that."
"She has to." Marion rose suddenly, pulling Laura to her
feet as well. "Come on."
They pushed through the ranks
of slayers and hurried down the hall to Rosa's study. The old slayer sat back in her chair,
studying a map of Vega Hydra. She looked
up at them, smiled tenderly.
"Rosa." Marion let go of Laura and fell to her knees
in front of their leader. "Rosa,
I've had a vision."
Rosa smiled gently at
her. "Have you seen my death,
child? And do you think that surprises
me?"
Marion stared at her in
horror for a moment. "You would
simply embrace it?"
"If it is my destiny,
yes."
"What of her?" Marion grabbed Laura, pulled her down to
kneel next to her. "What of the
little ones like her who will come later?
Who will need you?"
"LaVelle will lead when
I am gone."
"LaVelle is not
you."
Rosa smiled as if something
was funny. "I wasn't like this
either when I was LaVelle's age, when I was
second-in-command. We are what we are,
until fate demands we be something else...something more. It is the way of things."
"I'll tell
LaVelle," Laura said, rising.
"She'll make you stay."
Rosa reached out and snagged Laura's
arm, her grip tight as she forced her back onto her knees. "That would be a very stupid thing to
do, Laura. You will only put LaVelle in
danger, put us all in danger. I am
incidental to the plan. She and
Christine are the ones that will lead you."
"No," Marion
moaned. "Rosa, you are our
mother."
Rosa sighed. "And mothers leave their children
sometimes." She pulled them close
to her, allowed them to rest their heads on her knees. "You know I love you best. You two and LaVelle. But there are many more slayers than that
here that I must think of. I cannot stay
away. I will help make plans. I will come back or not as the powers will
it."
Laura wrapped her arms around
Rosa's legs. "You can't
go." When Rosa did not answer,
Laura pulled away and thought she saw Marion and Rosa exchange an odd
look. "What?"
Marion shook her head. "Only that we must say nothing of this
to anyone. Do you understand?"
Laura nodded solemnly.
"Good," Rosa said
gently. "Now, I must study this
before the meeting. You two go back to
your tasks."
Marion stood first and leaned
down to kiss Rosa tenderly on the cheek.
"My visions don't always come true."
Rosa laughed. "In the six years you've been here, how
many haven't?"
Marion's face crumpled and
she turned quickly away and walked out.
Laura stared up at Rosa, saw
a peculiar look of sadness cross Rosa's face and thought that it had to do with
her somehow. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, little one. You were taken so young and have been such a
blessing to us." Rosa ran her hand
down Laura's hair. "My little
one."
Laura pushed herself to her
feet. "Don't go, Rosa."
"I have to. You know that, Laura." She pulled Laura in for a hug, squeezing her
tightly. "Would you forego the
fight if someone told you that you would die?"
"We all might die, but
we will fight. I will fight," Laura
said defiantly.
"So you see how it is
for me. Go back and help the others
now." Rosa let her go and turned
back to her map.
Laura had no option but to leave
as she'd been ordered. But she couldn't
resist a last glimpse back.
Rosa was staring at her,
unshed tears bright in her eyes. "I
love you, Laura."
"I love you
too." Laura blinked hard. "Thank you for saving me, Rosa. For giving me my life back." She turned
quickly and hurried from the room.
------------***-----------------
They met in the sunlight, or
what was left of it. An unlikely company
of generals, Spock thought. Three
slayers, a demon, a Vulcan, and a human.
All ready to plan the fight against the vampires. All ready to die.
And none wanting to.
Raising an eyebrow at his own
poetic whimsy in the face of mortal danger, Spock felt Christine's bleak
amusement at his mood. He was not trying
to block her, wanted to give her the support she needed. His hand rested on the small of her back, he
could feel her energy.
She was tense. Fidgety and coiled like a snake.
*Nice image,* she said and he
smiled slightly.
*Snakes are quite powerful,
Christine.*
*Yes, I know. One killed me, didn't it?* Her mood plummeted again. He knew that it would only get worse as night
fell.
It was likely they would all
die.
He was not sure which one of
them was thinking that. And it was
dangerous to be that close. He began to
pull away from her. He felt her
resignation as he did it.
He let his hand drop, as they
followed Alma and Jim onto the field to meet the two slayers. Then he saw Christine reach out for him. He took her questing hand, their fingers twining
together briefly.
*I love you,* she sent
him. Then he felt her begin to raise her
own shields, the ones he had taught her.
He sent approval back.
"We have little time,
already it grows dark," said a much older woman waiting with LaVelle.
"Rosa," Christine
said softly.
"I presumed as
much." He frowned. "Why did we wait until almost
dark?"
"Rosa won't want to
fight them until it's close to dawn.
This way she teases them, perhaps into giving away something. We'll be safe here in the fields. They can't risk killing us."
"Why not? Without you three, the others would have only
inexperienced leaders. The fight might
end more quickly."
"They need our blood,
Spock. For the ritual to feed the
Orb. And our blood, because it's older
is also much richer to them. The three
of us alone are worth a score of younger women." She saw his worried look. "But killing just us won't be enough for
them. Almost, but not quite."
He was not sure he felt
better knowing that her blood was so valuable to a vampire.
Rosa continued, "There
is much to do before we bring the fight to them. We have preliminary battle plans."
"And we have flame
throwers," Kirk offered.
Alma looked up, clearly
startled.
"I wanted to surprise
you," he said with a grin.
She smiled but shook her
head. "The Orb will protect the
vampires while they are in control of it.
Fire is its element. It will
simply absorb the flames. Or worse yet,
turn them back on us."
"You are sure?"
LaVelle asked, disappointment showing.
Alma nodded. " I know fire. It is my element too. If it makes you feel better, they'll have
lots of fire around to feed the Orb.
Torches, bonfires. That sort of
thing. You won't have to fight in the
dark, at least."
Rosa sighed. "We have swords and we have stakes
then. We do this the old way. The way Gotterdammerung has always been
fought."
"What if they, having
fire on their side, choose to utilize its power?" Spock asked. "They may have phasers, or even
flamethrowers of their own."
"They can't burn
us," Christine said. "Not if they want our blood."
Alma nodded. "The blood has to soak the land. Once enough slayers die, the Orb will
act."
"And bring on endless
night," Rosa said simply.
"Endless night,"
Alma repeated in a whisper.
"But just here,
right?" Christine looked
around. "If we fail--"
LaVelle stopped her, said
furiously. "We will not fail."
"But if we do,"
Spock said in a milder tone. "Will
the darkness spread?"
Alma nodded. "Little by little, as they move out, it
will follow them, follow the blood as they destroy more slayers."
"There are no more
slayers out here," Christine pointed out.
Rosa smiled at her
sadly. "Do you doubt that they
would come from Earth if they had to?"
Christine looked down.
"You see why we cannot
fail," LaVelle said.
Kirk held up a hand. "Let's see the battle plans."
Rosa smiled at him. "You are experienced in this, are you
not?"
"I have some familiarity
with conflict."
Spock raised an eyebrow at
the understatement and Kirk looked at him innocently.
Rosa pointed to a
hillside. "We will launch our
attack from there, I think."
They followed her up the
hill. Kirk and Rosa stood surveying the
field that lay before them. Spock stood
back slightly.
"Are you afraid?"
Alma said softly.
He turned to look at
her. "Fear is an emotion."
"And you are Vulcan so
you have none of those, is that it?"
He nodded, watching as Rosa
handed LaVelle and Christine some small crystals and pointed back down the
hillside. The two slayers began to walk
the fields of Sekanik, stopping sometimes to drop
down and bury a crystal in the soil. The
planted several around a large stone altar the vampires had built near the edge
of the field.
"Salting the
earth?" he asked, remembering the strange saying.
Rosa turned to look at
him. "The vampires have already
done that. Consider these
countermeasures."
Spock nodded, watching
Christine intently as she continued her task.
"You worry," Alma
said. "You are far from unfeeling,
Spock."
He met her gaze. "Perhaps that is so," he
conceded. "But I am half
human."
"I am very fond of
humans."
"A recent state, I
believe," he said, nodding at Kirk.
"He has that effect."
As she smiled, he continued, "I think he is now very fond of
demons. Or of one in particular, at any
rate."
Her smile grew broader. Then it faded. "If we get the Orb back, I will have to
leave him."
He took a deep breath. "If the alternative were not so grim, I
would almost wish that we do not get it back then."
"Never let it be said
that Vulcans can't be charming."
"Or that demons cannot
be good," he countered.
Christine and LaVelle were at
the far end of the field. They both
suddenly looked up, staring back at the others.
"What is it?" Kirk
asked.
"It's dark," Alma
said softly. "Or nearly so."
Her voice held a strange note of resignation.
Spock sensed rather than saw
the vampires in the trees behind them.
There was a strange pop, then a hiss as something traveled past his ear,
moving directly toward Rosa. She moved
impossibly fast out of the way, reaching after the projectile...and catching
it.
"Crossbow," she
said as she pushed Alma toward the fields.
"Limited range. Get down the
hill."
"I thought they would
not hurt you?" Spock said to Rosa, resisting her push.
"They won't hurt LaVelle
and Christine," Rosa said with a strange smile. "I, on the other hand, am a totally
different animal."
"Rosa, how wonderful to
see you again." Anacost stepped out from the shadows of the trees. He dragged a woman behind him.
"Please help me," she
begged as she looked directly at Rosa.
The slayer began to
move. Spock looked back, saw LaVelle and
Christine tearing across the field, crystals abandoned. Then he saw Kirk following Rosa.
"Jim, no!" He tried to reach out, sensed Alma coming up
behind him.
"Jim!" Her cry echoed Spock's fear.
Rosa was on Anacost, tearing
the woman from his grasp almost too easily while Jim launched himself at the
vampire, who swatted him away casually.
As Rosa jumped to safety, the woman clung frantically to her, forcing
her down to the ground.
Then the woman's face
transformed into pure evil. "I
can't believe someone as old as you fell for that old trick," the vampire
said as she leaned down to bite.
"Then don't believe
it." Rosa's punch broke her jaw. Her foot came up and pushed the woman off
her, sending her flying into a jagged tree branch. She exploded into dust.
Rosa turned quickly, intent
on Anacost. And was brought up
short. The vampire had Kirk, was
drinking from him.
"No," Christine
said, as she and LaVelle came up the hill.
"Let him go." Rosa walked toward the vampire. "It's me you want."
Anacost raised his head. "Actually it's not. I like this one. He knows so much. Has access to things I can only dream
of. A mighty ship. And such power. I can taste it in his blood, feel it in his
soul."
Alma stepped forward. "Let him go...please." Her voice was pleading, her tone hypnotic.
"That won't work on me,
my dear." The vampire grinned as he
bit into his own arm, then held it to Kirk's mouth. "But since you ask so nicely, I just
might give him back to you." He
forced Kirk's mouth open, let the blood fall into his mouth. "After he's dead, of course."
"No!" Rosa
roared. Her speed was blinding as she
flew at the vampire. He dropped Kirk and
moved forward to meet her.
Alma looked at Spock. "Help me." He followed her past Rosa and Anacost, toward
the vampires that were now guarding Kirk.
"He will rise," one
of them said as he rushed Alma.
"No," Alma said as
she caught the vampire up and held him close.
"He will not." She
began to transform, her flesh turning into living flame. The vampire collapsed into dust. She turned to the others, fire raging along
the contours of her body. "Who's
next?"
They backed away. One of them said, "You can't stop
it. He's ours now."
"You weren't listening
to me. He's not yours," she said,
as she pulled Kirk up with one hand and nestled him against her. "We must keep him alive," she said
to Spock.
As they retreated back toward
the hillside, Spock pulled out his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise. Medical emergency. Beam the captain and our guest up
immediately. And call Doctor
McCoy." He looked at Alma. "If he dies?"
"He will not."
"But if he does?"
As she began to shimmer in
the transporter effect, she said, "Then I will be the one to slay
him."
He turned back; saw Christine
and LaVelle fighting the few vampires that remained. The rest had slipped back into the
woods. He watched Rosa and Anacost spar,
and waited for a chance to help. LaVelle
finished off the vampire she fought, then sighed in frustration as she realized
she could not risk breaking Rosa's concentration by rushing in to assist her.
Christine staked her vampire
with a savage thrust. Spock saw her tear
the stake down his body after it had struck the heart causing the vampire to
scream in pain before he exploded into dust, taking the stake with him. Another vampire attacked her and she threw
him away from her, following him down and pinning him to the ground with a knee
in his back. Her expression was savage
as she reached down and snapped his neck.
She rose and brushed the dust off her as she stalked over to Spock. Taking in Rosa as she spoke, she asked him
tightly, "Jim?"
Spock shook his head.
"If he rises," she
said, her voice even tighter.
He knew she was thinking of
her duty. She would have to kill their
captain, their friend. He shook his head
again. "Alma will do it. But she will not let him die if there is a
way to prevent it."
Christine stared at him; her
expression changing to a more haunted one.
Then she nodded and turned back to watch Rosa and Anacost fight. LaVelle still circled, waiting for a chance
to intervene, but Anacost kept Rosa between them.
As the moments ticked by, it
seemed that he and the old slayer were dancing more than battling. Her kick sent him flying, but he rose easily
to meet her next volley of punches. His
blow dropped her to the ground, but she rolled gracefully and used her momentum
to kick his legs out from under him. It
was a familiar and intricate dance between the two of them, and it was clear
they were both enjoying it.
Then Spock saw her
stumble.
LaVelle saw it too. "No!" she screamed, as Anacost
caught Rosa with an upward blow that whipped her head back, leaving her
stunned. A second blow landed directly
on her neck and Spock heard a horrible cracking sound. Rosa fell to the ground and did not move.
"No!" LaVelle
screamed again, flying at Anacost, only to have him disappear as she reached
him. "Come back, you bastard!"
she screamed to the night air.
"He used the
transporter," Christine said, as she walked to the other slayer. "He's gone." When LaVelle finally turned to look at her,
Christine said in a hard voice that Spock had never heard her use, "You'll
get him later. I'll make sure of
that."
LaVelle grabbed Christine by
the neck and jerked her close. "If
you lie...if you refuse to fight."
Christine shook her
head. Her expression was feral, full of
hate. "We'll make him pay for
this. And for Jim." She suddenly punched LaVelle, knocking her
away. "And don't ever do that
again." She looked over at Rosa,
her expression softening only somewhat.
"Do you need some help with her?"
LaVelle shook her head. She walked over to Rosa and picked her up
gently, then touched the stone on her ring.
Spock said, "Rosa never
told us her battle plan."
LaVelle looked down at the
woman she cradled in her arms. For a
moment, she seemed lost. Then she looked
at Christine, and something she saw in the other woman's eyes made her stand up
straighter. "We have a new plan
now."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "We do?"
Christine answered for
her. "We fight. They die."
LaVelle lips curled slightly
in approval. "An hour before dawn,
Christine."
Christine merely nodded.
LaVelle disappeared into the
portal
"Get us out of here,
Spock," Christine said as she scanned the woods.
He called the ship for beam
out. They had barely materialized on the
pad when she was moving, jumping off the platform and rushing out the door,
leaving the transporter operator open-mouthed.
Spock ignored him and hurried
after her. "Christine," he
called to her back.
She did not slow. But she yelled back to him, "I've got to
see how Jim is."
Her forbidding tone made him
uneasy.
She entered the turbolift and
he had to run to get inside before the doors shut.
"Deck five," she
ordered.
"Hold lift," he
countermanded and the lift slowed to a stop.
"Belay that." The lift started to move again.
"Stop lift. Authorization Spock Gamma Five Five Four." The
turbolift jerked to a halt, throwing them both against the far wall.
"Damn it, Spock. What are you doing? I have to get to sickbay." The hard look was still in her eyes, and now
there was something more. Anger. Frustration.
"To slay him too?"
She glared at him. "If I have to."
Spock reached for her. "Alma said--"
"--I don't care what she
said." She pushed his hand
away. "Start the damn lift."
"You could not have
prevented what happened to Jim. I was
closer to him than you were. Blame me if
you have to blame someone."
"You're not a
slayer." She seemed to wince.
"Slayers fail too. Rosa failed."
She looked away.
"She is dead,
Christine. Nothing is going to change
that."
"This conversation is
pointless, Spock. I'm going to
sickbay. The hard way if I have
to." She suddenly leapt for the top of the lift, pushing the ceiling panel
up as she did so.
He grabbed her legs and
yanked her down. Kicking out at him as
she fell, she forced him into the doors and followed him, grabbing him by the
collar and throwing him against the far wall with such force that he felt the
wind rush out of him. As she moved in
again, he caught her hands and kicked her leg out from under her, forcing her
back against the side wall. He pressed
in close, using his body to keep her from inflicting more damage on him.
"Damn you," she
yelled, as she tried to force him off.
He reached for the meld
points almost desperately.
*Christine!* He did not try to
modulate his mind voice. Knew that his
shout would travel to the most distant reaches of her mind. Knew it would hurt.
He felt her hesitate in her
attempt to push him off.
*Christine...Love, stop
this.* As she stared at him wild eyed,
he deepened the meld, dropped the barriers he'd erected to keep her
focused. *Let me in, Christine.*
He felt her body sag and
gathered her to him.
*He's going to die,
Spock. He's going to die and become one
of them. And I should have been
there. I should have been there for him,
and for Rosa.*
She was weeping and he held
her tightly, kissing her face as he let her feel his love, his acceptance that
she had done all that she could.
*I failed him.*
*You failed no one.*
*I did. He's going to die.*
*That is not certain,* he
told her gently, as he kissed her again.
*Let go of this pain. Release
this anger. It will not help you in the fight.*
It was the wrong thing to
say. He felt her anger flare again.
*You don't think so? Wake the hell up, Spock. This is what a slayer is. This pain and anger. This is sometimes all a slayer is, all that I
am.*
He felt her anger buffet him
and did not flinch from it.
Her mind voice was nearly a
whisper when she asked, *Haven't you ever wondered why I quit? Why I ran away?*
*You were hurting...when
Marcus died.*
*Yes. And this is what I became. What you see now. Only worse.
More dangerous. I almost lost
myself.*
*But you did not. Not then.
And not now.* He deepened the
meld even more, trying to comfort her, to soothe her. *I trust that you will not lose yourself
tonight either. You will use whatever
you have to in order to prevail. And
then you will come back to me.*
*How can you have such faith
in me?* She searched his face
frantically.
*I love you.*
He felt the barriers she had
erected crash. She pushed him against
the wall, kissing him feverishly. *I'm
sorry. I'm so sorry.*
He matched her passion for a
few moments, then pulled away slowly. She
looked down as he stroked her hair.
Finally he lifted her chin, made her meet his eyes. The hard look was gone, but he was not sure
the broken-hearted expression that had taken its place was an improvement. *My love, it was her time.*
*And Jim? Will it be his time too, Spock?*
He closed his eyes. She knew that Jim would be different. He felt her hand brush his cheek.
*I love you, Spock. I'm sorry for how I acted...what I
became. I didn't know I was still
capable of being that person.* She
leaned in, kissed him softly. *I'm just
so afraid. I'm afraid that I'll lose
everything I love best.* She paused. When she continued, it was in words. "I'm afraid I'll lose you."
He allowed her to pull away,
put some mental distance between them.
"I will never leave you, Christine.
And you can't frighten me away. I
will fight for you. You must believe in
that."
She stared at him for a long
time, then she finally said, "I believe in you."
That would have to be enough,
he decided. They shared a bittersweet
kiss before he instructed the lift to resume.
---------------------------------
Alma stood back as Doctor
McCoy worked feverishly, trying to keep Jim alive long enough to repair the
damage the vampire had done. "More
blood," he yelled to the nurse.
Jim moaned. Other than the sound, he lay still on the
biobed. Almost too still.
She stepped forward, took his
hand. "Jim, you must fight
this. I know Anacost's
blood is strong within you. That it
calls to you. But you must fight
this."
He seemed to be listening to
her.
"Fight for me,
Jim."
"Just keep talking to
him," McCoy urged as he went back to work.
"You're doing more good than I seem to be." He put down his medical instrument in
disgust. "This won't knit
together."
She nodded, had been afraid
of that. "It's because they are
magic."
"So a vampire's bite
never heals?"
"He was meant to
die. By all odds he should be dead and
beginning the transformation into one of them.
When he woke next, as a vampire, the wounds would be healed as if they
had never been there." She touched
Kirk's neck, feeling the mangled flesh.
"He is caught between them and us." She slowly let her fingers heat up, let them
build to a greater heat than she would ever have used normally when she was
with a human. The tips of her fingers
glowed red hot.
McCoy was watching them. "What are you?"
"A demon, Doctor. A demon in love." With her other hand she gently pieced the
wounds together. Then she placed her
burning fingers on them, cauterizing them.
Kirk screamed and the smell
of charred flesh filled the room. But
when she pulled away, the skin did not break apart.
"Magic heals
magic." She let her fingers cool
down before taking Kirk's hand in hers again.
McCoy examined the
bites. He finally nodded in
satisfaction. "I think this will
hold."
Pulling a burn dressing from
a drawer, he asked her with a lift of his eyebrows if it was all right to use
it. She nodded, glad that he could
relieve at least a little of Jim's pain.
As McCoy laid it gently over the scorched skin, Kirk moaned again.
"I wish I could do more
for him," McCoy whispered.
"Isn't there something else we can do? Holy water or something?"
"It won't do any good
yet. He's not theirs yet. Not ours either though." She smiled sadly. "Do you even have holy water?"
McCoy nodded as he checked
Kirk's pupils. "Stocked up the last
time I was on Earth. When Jim and Ny...another crewmember...were taken." He looked up at her. "I'm getting real sick of vampires, you
know?"
She nodded. "You aren't the only one, Doctor."
He straightened up. "My name is Leonard. Or Len, if you prefer. I can only guess you're the reason I haven't
seen much of Jim lately?"
She nodded. Held out her hand. "Alma."
He took her hand, looked down
at it in surprise. "After seeing
you become a soldering iron, I kind of expected your skin to be hotter."
She shrugged.
The sickbay doors opened and
Christine and Spock rushed in. Alma
studied the slayer. She reeked of rage
and violence. On the edge, Alma
thought. Dangerously so.
But as Alma reached deeper
with her senses, she felt the undercurrent of the bond the slayer shared with
Spock. It anchored her, stabilizing the
dangerous emotions. Alma let out breath
she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
This could still go their
way. Nothing was written in stone. She glanced back at Jim. Despite how much things might seem to be
tracking the dreams she'd been having.
Christine stared down at
Kirk. She laid her hand on his forehead
and he winced. Alma pulled her hand
away, and the slayer turned on her.
"It's begun."
"He didn't die."
"He might as well
have. He's more vampire than human at
this point."
Alma stepped protectively
between Christine and the bed. "If
you think that, then you know precious little about how things work."
"Then explain it to
me," Christine said in a low voice, moving closer.
Spock reached out and, taking
her shoulders, gently pulled her back a few steps. Alma watched as the slayer seemed to tense,
about to attack him for his action. Some
sort of silent communication seemed to go on between them. Then Christine relaxed.
"Explain it to me,"
she said again, but in a milder voice.
"As long as he's alive,
he's not theirs completely." Alma
looked down at Jim. He was coming
around, and he stirred restively.
"We can get the human back, but only if you kill the vampire that
did this. If his sire's blood ceases to
call to him, then he will recover."
"Kill
Anacost?" Christine smiled grimly. "Already part of the plan."
"He is a deadly enemy,
Christine. This will not be easy."
"No, I don't suppose it
will be. But he's dust. I promise you that." She leaned down to whisper in Kirk's ear. "I promise you that too."
He woke with a roar, hands
reaching to rip and tear.
Christine fended him off
easily. As she held him down, she looked
at McCoy, who stood frozen, as if in shock.
"Don't think of him as the man you knew. Not until he's really back. For now, he's just another vampire. Only not quite as strong as the rest of
them."
McCoy nodded slowly.
"Ten cc's of naprozine should settle him down," she said calmly.
McCoy hurried to load a
hypo. He didn't look at his friend's
face as he held it to Kirk's neck. Jim
slowly fell back, and Christine let him go.
"Slayer," he said,
his voice little more than a croak but still mocking.
She turned away.
"Slayer of what? You'll fail tonight. You'll all fail." Kirk squinted. "The lights are too bright. Turn them down."
"They're fine,"
McCoy said.
"Bones." Kirk's voice was soft, pleading for
reason. "Bones, what are you
doing?"
McCoy looked away.
"Spock? It's me."
Spock nodded. "And yet, it is not."
Kirk groaned in
frustration. "Let me go, you
fools. I need to get down there. I need to get down to the planet."
Alma leaned down. "Soon, my love."
He pulled back. "Fire demon." Then he hissed at her.
"Charming,"
Christine said. "His vitals are
still off," she said to McCoy.
Alma looked at her in surprise,
and Spock stepped closer and said, "When she is not killing things, she is
a nurse."
She smiled at him. "Humor, Mr. Spock?"
One eyebrow rose
slightly. "Gallows at best."
She nodded in understanding.
"He still needs
blood," McCoy said.
"In more ways than
one," Christine said as she watched Kirk writhe under the restraints. Her voice was very nearly a taunt as she
said, "I'd say he's starting to get hungry."
"That attitude's not
helping," Alma snapped at her.
Christine turned to her in
surprise, actually looked contrite.
"You're right. I'm
sorry."
McCoy brought the blood, and
Kirk watched it avidly as it filtered into his bloodstream. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed McCoy by
the throat. Christine grabbed his hand and
tried to get him to let go, but he wouldn't budge.
"He's getting
stronger," she said.
"Let me," Alma
said, moving in when Christine pulled away, and laying her hand on top of
Jim's. McCoy gestured for them to
hurry. "Yes, Doctor. Just a few seconds." She let the fire of her true self come out.
Kirk let go, shying away from
the flames with the instincts of any other vampire. Alma felt her heart sink. Was there so little of him left?
Spock seemed to read her
thoughts. "He cannot remain on the ship."
McCoy looked over at
him. Rubbing his throat gingerly, he
said, "Are you crazy? You can't
take him down there. He'll get killed."
Alma shook her head. "No.
He won't. I'll be with
him." She looked at Christine. "That means I'm out of the fight."
"We'll manage. Just keep him safe until we kill
Anacost." Christine frowned. "I know how to take out a vampire. But how do we stop the Orb?"
"You cannot stop it, not
without great cost."
"So I've been told. Tell me."
Alma undid the scabbard from
around her waist. She handed it to
Christine. "This dagger is forged
from the same material as the Orb. It is
the only thing that can destroy it. But
you must strike hard. One blow is all
that is allowed."
"Or what?"
"Or the Orb will destroy
you before you can even think about a second."
"Right. One blow it is then." Christine turned to Spock. "We have a few hours. I'm going to train. Do you want to stay here?"
Alma saw Spock look over at
Kirk. The naked concern in his eyes
would have laid waste to his claim of having no emotions if she hadn't already
figured out it was a complete lie. She
could see that he was torn between his need to watch over his closest friend
and his desire to spend the last hours with his bondmate. Alma cleared her throat. "Maybe you should go with her,
Spock. I'd like some time alone with
Jim."
He looked at his captain
again before nodding and following Christine out. She felt McCoy come up behind her. "If you're going to wait, you might as well
be comfortable," he said as he set down a chair.
"Thank you."
He nodded and with a last
look at Kirk, went into his office.
Alma sat down and stared at
Jim.
"Let me go," he
asked softly.
"Never." She didn't take her eyes off him. "You don't belong with them, Jim. You have to fight."
For a moment, his brow
furrowed and in a weak, strained voice, he said, "I'm trying, Alma. But it's so hard." Then his expression cleared and he laughed
meanly. "You think I'd want to
stick around for you, maybe?"
"I know the real Jim
Kirk would. I have no idea what you
want."
"Come on, baby. One demon to another. Let me go.
Let me become what I'm meant to be."
She ignored him.
"Alma," he purred,
his voice low, the way it sounded when he made love to her. "Alma, let me go. We can be together then."
She ignored him.
He promised her love. He promised to get the Orb back for her. He promised to show her the galaxy from the
bridge of his ship.
"I'll spare the rest of
them," he said. "We'll let them
off on some nearby planet. Then we'll be
free."
Alma ignored him. But she suddenly understood what Odysseus had
gone through with the sirens.
She was glad when the hours
had finally passed, and the slayer returned.
Alma could sense that she and Spock had done more than train. But she couldn't find it in her heart to
blame them. None of them might be alive
when this was over. Wasn't it fitting to
celebrate life, to celebrate love, while they could?
Christine met her gaze, and
Alma asked, "Is it time?"
"It is."
McCoy walked out. Without being asked, he loaded another hypo
and shot Kirk full. "Won't keep him
quiet for long," he said quietly.
"I'll be here when it's over."
He started to pack a med kit with extra supplies.
Christine nodded. "There will be need of you then. This will not be easily won."
"Just stay alive,"
he said almost angrily. "All of
you. Stay the hell alive, you hear
me?"
Christine nodded.
Alma pulled Jim up, holding
him tightly. "Let's go, while
there's still time."
They hurried to the
transporter room, keeping Kirk safely between them. Spock told the ensign on duty the coordinates
and they all stepped on the pad. A
moment later, they materialized on the planet.
A misty wind blew across the
fields, fanning the fires of a hundred torches and bonfires. They stood on the side of the hill looking
down at the horde of vampires and demons that waited. Behind them stretched an army of slayers,
brandishing swords and stakes, wicked daggers and sturdy clubs.
"Right on time,"
LaVelle smiled ferally, as she moved to the
front. She spared a glance for
Kirk. "He's a vampire?"
"Not yet," Alma
said firmly. "Not at all, if I can
help it."
Christine frowned. "How will you keep him safe?"
Alma dragged Kirk, who had
started to fight to get down to the army of vampires, back from the edge. She forced him down, then knelt beside
him. She concentrated for a moment and
fire began to spread from her body, creating a perfect slender ring around
them.
She looked up at Christine,
at all the slayers. "Good
hunting."
LaVelle and Christine both
nodded grimly.
With a small effort of will,
Alma caused the fire to flare up more wildly.
Kirk hid his face as the flames rose higher and wider, surrounding
them.
Alma forced herself to settle
and keep watch on Jim. He was eyeing her
as if trying to decide the best way to overcome her.
"I am the fire,
Jim. It becomes a wildfire if you harm
my concentration. You will perish, do
you understand?" Her voice was
harsh as she saw his eyes narrow as he took in her threat. Then he settled back to wait. She stifled a sigh of relief that he had not
called her bluff.
Alma watched the slayers and
Spock set out down the hillside.
"May the gods protect you," she whispered, as she whipped the
flames even higher and the vampires, the slayers, and the field disappeared
from her sight.
She and Jim were safe for the
moment. But Alma knew that if the slayers
lost, she would have to turn the fire on herself. She could burn to death if she willed it
deeply enough. It wouldn't be easy. But she could do it.
And she would not go
alone. Jim would be with her. They would burn together. The vampires would never have him.
Never.
-----***----------
The vampires met them halfway
in a fearsome charge. Metal clanged as
swords met. And all along the line,
vampires and slayers traded blows.
But Spock did not see Anacost
among them.
"Where is he?" he heard
LaVelle say, as she thrust her sword through the chest of the vampire that she
fought. She yanked the sword out and
swung it up and over hard, slicing the vampire's head off. Before it could hit the ground, the vampire
was dust.
Spock followed Christine,
noticed that the young redhead also stayed close to her. Laura saw him watching her and grinned as she
dusted the vampire that stood in her way.
"Look out," someone
shouted behind him and he turned quickly, narrowly missing being skewered by the
sword of an attacking vampire. He
brought his own weapon up, parried the next blow and the next. Suddenly the vampire exploded, and Spock saw
Christine grin briefly as she yanked her stake out before it could disappear
with the vampire. Then she searched the
melee, as if looking for someone.
Apparently finding her, she rushed into the fray, staking several
vampires until she stood next to Marion.
Spock followed her in.
"We can't find him,
Marion. Where is Anacost?"
Marion shook her head. "I'm not getting any visions, if that's
what you're asking." She parried a
punch from a much taller vampire.
"But I'm a little busy here."
A slayer behind them hurled
the vampire she was fighting into the back of Marion's opponent. They crashed down together, nearly taking
Spock and the two slayers with them.
Christine recovered first, following them down and dusting the first one
with a savage thrust. The second one
kicked her off and rolled away from them.
Jumping to his feet, he attacked Marion, his mighty blows met and
parried easily by her.
"Go find Anacost,"
she told Christine. "Go get the Orb
before it's too late."
Christine nodded at Spock,
and they fought their way back to where LaVelle and Laura were fighting. Their path was littered by the bodies of
slayers that had already fallen. One was
being fed on by a vampire. Christine staked the creature as she walked past.
"Where is he?" she
muttered, as she studied the fields in front of them. Then another vampire attacked and she was
forced to concentrate on the fight.
Spock found himself fighting
side by side with Laura as three powerful vampires took them on. The little slayer moved so quickly that Spock
had trouble keeping out of the way of her kicks. He backed off slightly, drawing one of the
vampires with him. He was brought up
short when massive arms coiled around his neck.
"Kill him," the
vampire that held him said to the other.
Spock kicked up hard at the
one that had moved in to bite him. There
was a sickening crunch and the vampire's jaw crumbled. Another kick to the head snapped the
vampire's neck. He was dust.
"You'll pay for
that," the one holding him said. He
felt teeth on his neck and tried to jerk away but the vampire was too strong.
"Here," Laura said,
as she pulled a damp rag out of her pocket and threw it to him. "On the face," she yelled, as she
turned back to her vampires.
Spock whipped the cloth back,
felt it connect with the vampire's face.
The creature screamed and let him go.
Spock turned and saw that the vampire's face was burnt. Holy water, he realized, as he swung his
stake home.
A short scream startled him
and he turned to see one of Laura's opponents hit her in the stomach with a
wicked mace. The spikes tore through her
skin and she tried to kick out at the vampire that wielded it but missed. He swung again, in the same place, this time
hitting her harder.
Spock tried to get to her but
another vampire moved to block his way.
He had no choice but to fight, even as he saw Laura fall.
The vampire with the mace
joined the one that attacked Spock.
"You will die," he said with a sneer.
There was a hiss and a
crossbow bolt buried itself in the vampire's chest. He dropped the mace and tried to pull the
bolt out even as he disintegrated into dust.
The other vampire reached for the weapon, but Spock kicked him hard,
sending him reeling, then following up with a flurry of powerful jabs. His stake hit home next, and the vampire
exploded.
To his side, Spock heard a
slayer scream, turned and saw the vampire that killed her throwing her to the
ground as it moved on to the next slayer.
How many have died? Spock
wondered. Enough to start the Orb on its
deadly course?
As if in answer, an
ear-splitting wail broke the air. Spock
turned, as did many of the others, slayer and vampire alike.
Anacost stood on the
altar. "My children, you see how
the Orb awakens. Your bravery
strengthens it; the blood of the slayers feed it. Keep fighting. Keep fighting and know that eternal darkness
will reign. That you helped bring it
about."
He held the Orb aloft. "Behold, our time is at hand. Our time will never end."
In the distance, Spock could
see that the sky was lightening somewhat.
Dawn breaks, he thought. We must
hold him.
LaVelle obviously agreed with
him, jumping up on the altar to face the vampire. She traded blows with the vampire, reaching
desperately for the orb. He seemed at a
disadvantage at first, intent on keeping the Orb from her. Then he hit her hard in the collarbone. She stumbled.
He hit her there again and again.
She kicked out at him, but the punishment was too much. A few moments later, he had her in a death
grip, was forcing her down to her knees.
"Any last words,
slayer?" his voice mocked her as he bared his teeth and bent down to taste
her.
"I've got some,"
Christine yelled, rushing the altar.
She screamed viciously as she launched herself into the air.
Anacost let go of LaVelle and
turned to meet Christine's jump with a powerful punch that nearly knocked her
off the altar. He held the orb up,
taunting her.
Christine pointed to the
horizon. "The dawn breaks."
"I don't think so,"
he said, as the Orb began to draw in the brightness from the lightening
sky.
Christine pulled out Alma's
dagger. She seemed to gather herself for
a split second, her face tight with determination as she struck hard, somehow
managing to stab the orb hard enough to send the blade through it and into Anacost's flesh. The
vampire reacted to the pain in his hand with a powerful kick that sent her
flying off the side of the altar. She
hit the ground hard and pulled herself up slowly, her face a mask of shock and
despair. Then she looked up, shook
herself off and nodded slowly, a wolfish grin crossing her face.
Anacost realized his mistake
too late. LaVelle's
stake slammed home before he could turn around.
"That was for
Rosa," the dark slayer said, as the vampire disappeared in a shower of
dust, the Orb vanishing with him.
The dawn was suddenly much
brighter.
The vampires didn't seem to
care, almost seemed to go insane as the light grew. They fought more ferociously than ever and
more slayers screamed and died. Spock
saw three of them attack Christine, moved to help her when he suddenly felt
something rip through his chest.
The pain was
unimaginable.
He saw Christine stumble,
turn to look at him, barely parrying the dagger that one of the vampire's aimed
at her heart.
*I am fine,* Spock sent her,
as he slammed a wall down between them.
He saw her glance over then
return to the fight.
He tried to turn, to fight
back, when another thrust of the dagger ripped through him. He gasped in pain but twisted, his stake
coming up and impaling itself in the vampire's chest just as the knife slashed
in for a third time. The vampire
exploded.
Spock fell to his hands and
knees, green blood spilling on the earth beneath him. He forced his head up, sought her out. As his strength gave out, he saw her battling
side by side with LaVelle. Good, he
thought as he watched her fight, she did not realize. His pain would not endanger her again.
-------------------------------------
Christine looked around
her. The field had been
transformed. It was a scene of complete
carnage. Blood everywhere. And dust blowing in the light wind. Dust that had been evil death. The full force of the sun had killed them
all. No vampires got away.
She tried to feel some joy at
that thought. Tried to muster up one
ounce of triumph but all she felt inside was hopelessness. She looked at her hand, where she had held
the dagger. It had burned when she'd
stuck it through the Orb. It burned
still.
"Christine."
Christine whirled, looking
for the source of the voice amidst all the bodies. She saw bright red hair and swallowed
hard. "No."
She hurried to Laura's side;
saw that a good part of her abdomen had been torn out. She was bleeding to death, slowly but
inevitably. Christine took her hand,
didn't wince at the crushing grip the young slayer held her in.
"You're hurt."
Christine realized she was
bleeding in several places. "Not so
bad."
Laura smiled in relief. "You did it. You and Velle. I knew you could if you worked together. You're the strongest slayers ever." The young slayer's eyes shone with
pride. "You're what we all could
be...if we got the chance."
Christine looked around for
LaVelle. She was too far away. There was no time to call her.
"I guess I won't get to
know what love feels like," Laura said, her eyes resigned. "Or get to climb a mountain. Or go to the beach."
Christine couldn't bring
herself to say anything. She swallowed
hard.
"Do you think another
slayer gets called? When we die more
than once?" Laura asked.
"I don't know,"
Christine answered honestly. But she
suspected, given the large number of slayers running around compared to the old
days, that another one would be called.
"I hope not." Laura said with a pained smile. "I don't want to condemn another girl to
this life."
"I know," Christine
whispered.
"I'm not afraid,"
Laura said firmly. But her grip on
Christine's hand tightened. "I
can't remember what it felt like to die, Christine. The first time I was killed, I was knocked
out. I never felt it when the vampire
got me with my own stake."
Christine grimaced at the
thought.
"I wonder if we feel it
when we go? Does whatever it is that
came into us when we were called, the thing that makes us stronger and tougher
than we were before...does that leave us?
And do we know the moment when it does?"
"I don't know."
Laura moaned and her eyes
closed but her grip did not relax, so Christine waited, not speaking. Finally, Laura opened her eyes.
"I don't remember
either," Christine said gently.
"I just remember the dark.
And the quiet."
"Was it scary?"
Christine shook her head. "No, it was peaceful. No one wanted to hurt me anymore."
"That sounds
good." Laura tensed. Her eyes became unfocused. "I hope there are beaches."
"I'm sure there will
be," Christine said, biting back a sob.
"Don't forget me,
Christine," Laura whispered.
"I won't. I never will, little one," Christine
replied even as she felt Laura's hand relax and fall away. "No," she said brokenly as she
gently closed the slayer's eyes and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "May you find many mountains to climb,"
she whispered, as she rocked the girl tightly in her arms.
"Christine?" It was Alma.
Christine looked up at
her. Jim, she realized. She had forgotten about Jim. "You saved him?"
Alma shook her head. "No.
You did. You and the
others."
"The Orb is gone."
Alma nodded.
"What will you do?"
Alma looked anxiously behind
her. "That is not important
now. You need to come with me."
"Why?" Christine saw the demon gulp and suddenly was
gripped with panic. "Spock?" she
asked frantically, even as she told herself that if he'd been hurt, she'd have
known it. Their bond was too strong for
her not to know it.
"We must hurry,"
Alma urged.
Christine followed her, then
broke into a run when she saw Kirk kneeling by a fallen Spock. She dropped to her knees beside him, staring
down at Spock. He was bleeding badly
from several serious wounds. His
breathing was shallow and his face tight as he fought obvious agony. She should have felt this, she realized. She should feel it now. She reached out for him.
He opened his eyes at her
touch. "You are undamaged?" he
asked her in an odd voice.
"Can't you
tell?" She reached for him with her
mind, realized that the resonance between them was missing; something was
blocking the bond they had forged. In
the heat of the battle, in the tragedy that had come after, she had not
noticed.
He reached up for her. "I cannot." The familiar mental tingle was missing when
he touched her.
"What have you done,
Spock?"
"I blocked you when I
was injured, so that I would not distract you.
I could not let you feel my pain."
He shifted, tried to get comfortable.
"I had to do it, Christine.
You would have left the fight for me."
"The fight is over. Unblock me."
"Why?" he asked
gently. "So that you can follow me
into death?"
"You're not
dying." She realized she was
breathing hard and too fast. "I
can't feel you. I can't tell how badly
you're hurt. Let me in, Spock."
He shook his head sadly. "I know how badly I am hurt, Christine. Do not grieve for me too long."
She looked at Kirk.
He shook his head helplessly
even as he said, "McCoy's on his way.
It won't be long now."
She realized his words were
for Spock's benefit only. To keep him
from giving up too soon. Kirk didn't believe
them. Didn't intend for her to
either. He meant something else entirely
when he said it wouldn't be long.
Alma knelt down on the other
side of Kirk. "He comes," she
said softly.
Christine looked up and saw
McCoy hurrying toward them. "Hold
on," she ordered as she looked at Spock.
He stared back at her, love
very strong in his eyes. For a moment,
she felt the resonance between them as he quit blocking the bond. *I love you, Christine. Never forget that.*
She held on to the feel of
his mind in hers. Followed him back as
he started to weaken.
*You will not follow me on
this journey, Christine. Your life is
the only thing I have left to give you.*
*No, Spock. No!*
She had almost reached him when suddenly the bond was severed. Unbearable pain flared in Christine's
mind.
"I am sorry, my
love," Spock said, his expression a clear indication that he felt the
agony as well. "You must
live."
"No!" She laid her fingers on his face, trying to
find a way into his mind, even though she didn't know how.
"Chris," Kirk
pulled her hands away gently. "He's
gone."
She looked down at where
Spock lay, unnaturally still.
"No!" she moaned as she began emergency measures, pumping his
heart, breathing for him. "Please,
live."
He did not.
"Move aside,
Chris," McCoy said gently as he reached her and requested emergency beam
out.
She would not move and, in
the end, Alma and Kirk had to pry her from him.
"McCoy can still save
him," Kirk said brokenly, after the doctor had beamed up with Spock.
"You don't believe
that."
"I do." Alma stared at her. "It isn't his time."
Christine stared back at
her. "What if he dies anyway?"
Alma shook her head
firmly. "It isn't his time,
Christine. You must believe
that." She turned to Kirk. "There are others that need help,
Jim."
He nodded and let her lead
him away.
"It isn't his time to
die," Christine repeated to herself.
She walked through the field to where LaVelle and Marion waited for
her.
"I'm sorry," Marion
said softly.
LaVelle didn't try to comfort
her, but her hands were gentle as she led Christine to the pyre that was being
constructed. "For our dead. None will rise tonight."
Christine nodded her
understanding. She helped the other two
carry the fallen slayers. So many of
them had died. Most from wounds earned
from weapons, but some had bite marks on their necks. They saved Laura's body for last.
Marion sobbed. "I saw this. I saw her death. Hers and Rosa's."
LaVelle stared hard at
her.
"Rosa told me to say
nothing."
"That sounds like
something she would do." LaVelle's expression turned even grimmer. "I'll have to learn how to do that now
too."
"You already know
how," Christine corrected gently.
"You led us all today. Just
like Laura knew you would."
"Little sister,"
LaVelle said, her voice catching, as she stroked Laura's red braid. Then she pulled the ring that called the
portal off Laura's finger.
Christine saw that tears were
running freely down the other slayer's face.
"She was proud of us," Christine said. "She loved us. She loved you especially."
LaVelle met her gaze for a
long moment. Then she closed her eyes
and when she opened them, there was a new resolve in them. She was the leader. She would lead. She nodded at Christine, repeated firmly,
"None will rise," as she touched the flame to the pyre.
They watched in silence as
their sisters burned.
Finally, Marion turned to
Christine. "What will you do
now?"
Christine closed her eyes,
fighting the overwhelming pain that was filling her. She was alone now. She should never have involved Spock in
this. Never have involved any of the
crew.
"It wasn't his
time," she muttered.
LaVelle touched her ring and
a portal appeared. "You are welcome
in Kirsu."
Christine shook her
head.
Marion hugged her sadly,
understanding her motive. "Don't
look for death. Come with us. We will recover together. Kirsu heals."
Christine pulled away. "I don't deserve healing."
"Yes, you do. We all do.
But you have to realize that for yourself," LaVelle said, sounding
very much like Rosa, as she handed Laura's ring to Christine. "In case you ever want to come
home." Then she stepped through the
portal.
Marion turned to follow
her. "I'm sorry, Christine. I know you loved him. Please be careful."
Christine nodded. Careful.
What did that mean anymore?
"And don't turn away
from help if it's offered. Even from
unlikely sources." Marion looked at
her helplessly then stepped into the portal.
It collapsed behind her.
Christine felt tears fill her
eyes; she blinked slowly and let them spill down her cheeks. Nothing would ever be right again. Spock was dead. And she was utterly alone. In a way that she had never been alone
before.
She slipped Laura's ring onto
her little finger and watched the last of the pyre burn. She was so lost in her pain that she didn't
hear the first chirp of her communicator.
The second chirp managed to get through her grief.
Then she heard McCoy's voice,
"McCoy to Chapel."
She pulled out her
communicator. "Chapel here."
"He's alive, Chris. Barely but he's going to be all right in
time."
She stared at the
communicator in shock. He was alive and
she felt nothing from him. The bond was
truly gone.
"Did you hear what I
said? Spock's alive!"
"I heard you, Len." She tried to put some of the relief she felt
into her voice. "That's
wonderful. I'll be up soon. I have some things to do here first."
"Well, don't take too
long."
"I wont," she said,
as she closed the communicator, severing the connection.
"It wasn't his time to
die," she whispered to herself. She
looked at what was left of the funeral pyre.
Thought of how still Spock had been.
Remembered what it had been like seeing Kirk with his throat torn and
bloody. Now, against all odds, they both lived.
"Can't endanger then
again," she said. She saw Alma and
Kirk in the distance. He held his arm
out to help her up. He would be all
right, Christine thought. They both
would. She thought of Spock, even now
recovering in sickbay. He would be all
right too. If she left. If she left him alone and free of the
nightmare that was a slayer's life...that was her life.
And she could do that. Without the bond, if she went far enough, he
could never find her.
Perhaps he wouldn't even try.
She dropped the communicator
on the ground and looked up at the night sky.
"Goodbye, Spock. I'll always
love you."
Then she turned and vanished
into the night.
--------------
Spock woke slowly.
"Take it easy,"
McCoy said gently. "You'll be in
some pain."
The doctor was right. Spock was having difficulty finding anyplace
on his body that didn't hurt. How had he
come to be here?
Then he remembered.
"Christine?" Spock
croaked.
"She's gone," McCoy
answered, unable to meet Spock's eyes.
"Gone," Spock
repeated dully. He reached out for her
with his mind, trying to follow the paths of the bond to her. But the bond was not there. How could this be?
Then he remembered how sure
he'd been that he was dying. How he'd
feared that Christine would follow him into death if he didn't do something to
prevent that.
He had severed the bond.
And now there was nothing
left of it. He could no longer feel
her.
She was truly gone.
"Christine," he called
out loudly, thrashing somewhat, feeling skin tear and bones so recently knitted
start to pull apart again.
McCoy reached for the hypo,
laid it against his neck. "You'll
undo all my fine work, Spock," he said, his voice lacking any of the
normal rancor.
Spock looked up, realized his
friend was crying. "She's never
coming back?"
"I don't think she is,
Spock."
"Christine, don't do
this," Spock muttered to himself as the drugs started to work. His mind sought to resist the medicine, tried
to determine where she would have gone, what she would do. As he lost the fight to sleep, his last
thought was that he would find her.
Wherever she had gone, he would find her.
---------
EPILOGUE
The bar was full of demons,
all ready to party or to fight. Didn't
much matter to them, Spike knew. As long
as there was some kind of action, they'd be happy. He'd been coming here for four days now. Waiting.
Waiting for her.
Waiting to see if the rumors
were true.
When she walked in, pushing
roughly past the demons blocking the door, he knew they were. She'd come to fight.
More importantly, she'd come
to die.
He leaned back. From what he understood, she'd tried this on
quite a few other worlds. The worst
bars, the busiest nights. Any moment now,
she'd insult the biggest, meanest demon in the place.
Right on schedule, he heard
her say, "Anyone ever tell you that you're an argument for
sterilization?"
As insults went, Spike rated
that pretty low. Certainly couldn't compare
to what Buffy would have come up with.
He glanced over at Christine. She
was taller than Buffy, much taller. And
bigger. Bigger than Spike was
actually. He grinned, allowing himself
the luxury of imagining what she'd feel like in his arms.
Then he took a good look at
her face. She did look like Buffy. Her expression anyway. She had the same look the other slayer had
worn just before she'd died. The second
time, on Glory's tower, and then later...the final time. Lost.
Tired.
Defeated.
Spike got up, walked over to
where the Slingvit demon had lunged at Christine with
a large knife, just missing her. Spike
came up behind the demon and twisted his neck viciously. The huge creature fell dead at his feet. "Your taunts need work, Slayer."
She looked at him
numbly.
"Remember me,
Christine?" He studied her,
realized she was covered with cuts and bruises that he hadn't noticed when she
first walked in. "It wasn't so long
ago."
"I remember
you." Her gaze was unfocused, her
voice scratchy as if she hadn't really spoken to anyone for a long time.
"Heard about the
fight...the latest Gotterdammerung."
He watched her expression become wary.
"Heard about the carnage."
She nodded.
"Lot of slayers
died." When she didn't answer, he
continued, "Lots of vampires too."
"None so much as legion,
none so little as my friend," she said cryptically as she turned away.
"Been taking lessons
from Dru, have you?" Spike ignored
the stab of regret and guilt the thought of his former lover and sire gave him.
"She had it right. Madness is a comforting place to be,"
Christine replied, as she stepped over to take on a large vampire that was
seated at a card game. "Get up!"
she said harshly to him. "Get up
and die."
Spike grabbed her from behind
and threw her against the bar.
"Shove off," he told the vampire, who fled after one look at
how angry Christine was as she pulled herself to her feet.
"Everyone out,"
Spike ordered and was pleased to see that they obeyed. Even the bartender ran for cover.
"Your chip's not
working."
"Sure it is." He moved back as she advanced on him. "It knew that I was just trying to
protect you. That I didn't mean to hurt
you. It's gotten smarter that way."
She pulled out a stake. "I don't believe you."
He wondered if the chip would
let him fight her now. He'd be doing it
to protect her. He decided not to chance
it. It probably wasn't that smart. "How's Spock?"
She stopped mid-motion.
"Heard he got hurt. Got hurt bad.
Heard you left him all alone. I
was worried about him. It's why I came
to find you."
She looked down.
"Did you at least stick
around long enough to make sure he was going to recover?"
She nodded.
"Did you say
goodbye?"
He saw her face crumple. She dropped the stake on the floor.
"Didn't, huh?"
"I couldn't." She sat down heavily in the nearest
chair. "The bond. It was so strong." She looked up at him. "Stronger than when you were with
us. Stronger than anything. And now it's gone. I can't feel him."
"But he's alive?"
She nodded. "He severed it."
"He loved you. He'd only do that if he thought it was the
best way to protect you." Spike
went to the bar and grabbed a bottle and two glasses. Setting them down on the table, he picked up
her stake and handed it back to her.
"You may still need this tonight."
"To use on you?"
"I'd prefer you
didn't. But the night is
young." He poured the local alcohol
into the glasses. "This stuff's
strong. Go easy."
She picked up the glass and
threw it all back.
"Or not." He poured out another glass. "It's been
what? Eight weeks since you left
him?"
"Nine."
"Nine weeks and you're
still alive. Demonkind
slipping or what?"
"They'll let anybody
into the union," she quipped as she drained her glass again.
"Nine weeks times seven
nights, times let's say three for the number of bars you could hit in an
evening. That's a lot of brawls,
Christine." He touched a
particularly livid bruise on her arm.
"A lot of damage. You really
want to die that much?"
She didn't answer as she
reached for the bottle.
"I think you don't. I think you'd be dead by now if you did. Slayers that want to be dead usually end up
that way."
"You oughta
know, Spike. How many did you
kill?"
"Two."
She looked at him. "Not more?"
"Just the two. After Buffy..." He trailed off, unwilling to continue. He grabbed his drink and drank it quickly.
"After Buffy what?"
He shook his head. "Didn't Spock tell you about my
soul?"
"Vampires don't have a
soul."
"This vampire
does."
"You have a chip not a
soul."
"A chip _and_ a
soul. I wasn't content with having one
pain in my ass. I went and got the soul
to make my misery complete." He leaned
back, studied her.
"Misery." She met his eyes. "Pain."
He nodded.
"I want to die."
"I know that, pet. But if you aren't dead yet, it's just not
going to happen right now." Spike
stood up. "Come on."
She looked up at him.
"Your carriage awaits,
my lady." He smiled sadly. "My ship can take you wherever you want
to go." He leaned in, suggested
gently, "Maybe back to Spock?"
She shook her head violently.
"All right, then
somewhere else."
"To Zenon
Six. I've heard it has a lot of
indigenous demon species. Maybe the next
bar will be different."
"And maybe it
won't." He wouldn't let her keep doing
this. Had to stop her.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I do."
"Why?"
"Do you remember when
Dru died?"
"When I killed her, you
mean?"
"She didn't give you
much choice in that. She really did want
to die." He tried to block out the
memory of Dru pushing herself against Christine's stake. "Do you remember afterward?" he
asked gently.
She looked at him blankly.
"You held me. You didn't even like me, and you held
me."
She looked away. "It didn't mean anything."
"It did to me. I don't forget things like that. Kindness is rare."
"There's no kindness
left in me."
He leaned down, scenting
her. She smelled of sadness and
despair. And also of power. Slayer power.
"Maybe not. But there's
other things inside you." He said,
laying his lips against her neck. He
could feel her tense. Knew when she
reached for the stake. He pulled away
slightly. "I can help you."
"No one can help
me."
He felt her arm pull back and
ignored the danger he was in. Leaning in,
he kissed her slowly then pulled away.
"I can help you," he repeated as he glanced back at her arm,
frozen and trembling, the stake held in a death grip by fingers gone white from
the pressure. "Let me help,"
he said, reaching up to lay his hand over hers.
Her fingers seemed to open of
their own accord, dropping the stake. It
clattered on the table, the only noise as he turned to stare at her. Their fingers entwined as he used his other
hand to pull her to him. He felt her
free hand on his neck, running through his hair.
"Help me," he heard
her whisper.
He knew she meant it. Knew she also meant, 'help me forget.' He'd been in this situation before. Helping a slayer forget her pain. And he'd failed utterly that time, had been
too in love with her to see when it was time to let go. But this time. This time he could do it. He could make it up to Buffy. He could help this slayer, for whom he had
always felt a strange affinity. Help her
and keep her safe for a man he thought of as his friend.
Hope he understands, Spike
thought, as Christine let go of his hand and pushed him onto the table. She climbed on top of him, kissed him
fiercely. Whispering a silent apology to
Spock, Spike lost himself in the desperate passion that he was so addicted
to. The kind that could only be found
with a slayer.
FIN