curiouswombat: (Access all Areas)
[personal profile] curiouswombat
"Access All Areas" is the follow up to "Ten Years After" - set in 2013, starring Dawn and Spike, and co-written with [livejournal.com profile] speakr2customrs

Chapter 5 - in which the different tracks are coming closer and closer to a convergence point...

Access All Areas, Chapter 5.
Word count: 4,900
Rating: 15

Previous chapters can be found HERE

Chapter 5 is




The Ferret stood up as Ethan entered the room. “Well? What have you to report?”

“Steady on, old boy, give me a chance to take off my coat,” Ethan said. “Why so impatient? We’re way ahead of schedule anyway.”

The Ferret gave a slight nod. “I know,” he acknowledged. “We came here only to search for descriptions of the Key and discovered that it is currently in this very city. And yet we can make no move without knowing what it is that we must look for. At any moment it may be taken away again and we will be back where we started. That is why I cannot be patient.”

“Oh, we’re definitely making progress,” Ethan said. He hung up his coat and opened the mini-bar. “In fact I think that I deserve a drink.”

“So? You have news?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Ethan said. “I found a couple of useful tit-bits in the museum archives, for a start. I can’t read Czech but my German and Latin served me well enough. There was an interesting passage in the chronicles of a twelfth-century monk.”

“A description?”

“Not quite, but this might help us recognise the Key,” Ethan replied. “It is susceptible to necromanced animal detection, particularly by those of a canine or serpentine nature.”

“Excellent,” said The Ferret. “You have done well. A necromanced animal? Interesting. Perhaps I should acquire a dog.”

“A snake might be more convenient in the hotel room,” Ethan pointed out. “Probably hard to obtain in Prague, though. I knew a stripper once,” he digressed, as he poured himself out a drink, “who kept a python in her bedroom. Gave me the devil of a shock one night when it joined us in bed.”

“I do not like snakes,” The Ferret said. “A dog. The Turks can be given the task of keeping it.”

“We might not need to use such methods at all,” Ethan went on. “There’s a lot more to tell yet.”

“Then continue,” The Ferret urged.

“I found out the location of the monastery,” Ethan related, “and I popped over for a look-see. It’s a hotel now. Rather drastically altered during the conversion, I suppose, but the structure is substantially intact. I had lunch there. Quite fascinating, actually. I could almost taste the residual magic. There must have been a spell of quite awesome power cast right there in that very room. Transformation magic beyond anything that I’ve ever managed.” His lips drew back from his teeth. “And death. There are echoes there of pain, and fear, and violent destruction. It was as if there had been a great disturbance in the Force, and dozens of voices had cried out in terror, and then were suddenly silenced.”

The Ferret showed no reaction to Ethan’s Star Wars reference. Ethan was coming to the conclusion that the other magician was somewhat humour-deficient. Or else the paraphrased quote simply hadn’t been all that funny.

“That will have been when the monks sent away the Key to its present guardians,” The Ferret commented. “No doubt the being that they feared wreaked a bloody revenge upon them when the Key was wrenched from its grasp. Interesting indeed. Perhaps relocation to that hotel might be advantageous.”

“Oh, I really wouldn’t recommend that, dear boy,” Ethan advised. “It might give away our interest prematurely.” His eyebrows waggled up and down and his wolfish smile grew even broader. “I may have had rather a narrow escape, actually. I know that the Key has been in close proximity to that precise spot, and it seemed a fair bet that its keeper might even be staying there, and so I wangled a look at the hotel register. I recognised a name.”

“A Watcher?” The Ferret asked.

“It’s possible, I suppose, but she certainly wasn’t a Watcher when I last met her. She was a kid of about eleven or twelve.” Ethan cocked his head to one side and his gaze lost focus. “I turned her into a witch, if I remember rightly. Warts, hooked nose, broomstick, the whole works. Ah, good times. It’s a shame that Ripper spoiled everything.” Ethan focused on The Ferret once more and saw a frown of annoyance appearing on the other magician’s forehead. He abandoned his reminiscing and got to the point. “Dawn Summers. The sister of the Sunnydale Slayer.”

“The Slayer who became guardian to the Key.” The crease between The Ferret’s eyebrows disappeared and he smiled. “The sister must be the present guardian. No doubt she is a Slayer too.”

“It seems logical,” Ethan agreed. He took out his mobile phone, brought up a photo onto its screen, and held it out to The Ferret. “I caught a glimpse of her later. She must be in her twenties now, I suppose, but it’s her. She was going into a museum that I had intended to visit. I took the picture and then moved on rather smartly. I’d really rather that she didn’t see me. It’s quite possible that she would remember our previous encounter and I don’t think that a meeting between us would be terribly pleasant for me. Her sister made some rather dire threats to me on a couple of occasions. I’m sure that Dawn would be only too pleased to put them into practice.” He took back the mobile phone and put it away.

“Send that picture to the Turks,” The Ferret ordered. “They can keep her under surveillance and be ready to seize her when I give the command.” He took out a wallet, extracted a dozen 500 Euro notes, and handed them to Ethan. “You have done very well. Thank you. If you wish to back out at this point I will understand.”

Ethan folded the notes and slipped them into his pocket. “I spent eight years in the custody of the American military thanks to Buffy Summers. It really wasn’t an experience to look back upon with fond memories.” He bared his teeth. “I have a score to settle. I have no objections at all to settling it through her little sister. I have a little trick up my sleeve that should come as a very nasty shock to her. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

…………………………………


It was 4 a.m. and Spike lay in bed, in the near dark, watching Dawn as she slept. It was one of the pleasures of this relationship, watching her sleeping, and knowing that when she woke she would look pleased to see him there. Although he had told her, back in Paris, that he was long over Buffy, that short relationship had left as many scars on him as the longer one with Dru, or the years spent with Angelus and Darla – they were just different scars.

They had been in Prague for four nights now, and this bed had begun to feel, and smell, as if it was theirs. The heavy musky scent of sex drifted comfortingly around them, the higher note of Dawn’s perfume, and the lower note of the two old books on the table complimenting it and blotting out signs of previous occupants.

Outside it was moonlight. He felt restless. ‘After all,’ he thought, ‘I am a bloody creature of the dark.’ To walk out in bright sunshine or, as he had thought on a previous night like this, to ride bloody big motorbikes in it or roll around on the grass bare-assed having wild and passionate sex with Dawn in it, definitely appealed, but moonlight and moon-shadow was still his natural habitat. He decided to suggest that he and Dawn go out hunting next night – maybe with Jarmila, maybe alone – Dawn might not be a Slayer, but she had no fear of vampires and was well trained in fighting them. Besides which she would be with him, and he would never let anything harm her.

He inhaled deeply again, savouring the scent and taste of Dawn, and let his mind drift. He remembered the first time he had seen her from the shadows as she walked home from school and into the house on Revello Drive. He had wanted her so much then – but not in a sexual way. ‘’M not a bloody pervert!’ he thought to himself. No, he had wanted to sink his fangs into that slender twelve-year old neck and drink every drop of the warm sweet blood – then throw Dawn’s drained body at The Slayer before he fought her. Then he’d thought that instead of making The Slayer angry it might have made her too easy to kill, or maybe too hard, and he’d decided to leave ‘the kid sister’ to take home to Dru after The Slayer was dead.

Spike laughed gently to himself – ‘Bloody good, these guys were,’ he thought. ‘I can remember everything about that first time, what she was wearing, the way the sun glinted on the things in her hair, the very scent of her as she walked past, not knowing how close she was to death. And it’s all a big con, planted in my brain as much as the fucking chip was! Perfect though – bloody perfect – it explained to me why she was still around – what - three years later. Why I never took her home for Dru to play with when Dru would have loved it. I just knew she’d been around all that time because I’d chosen to let her be. Bloody amazing. No need to worry about anyone else ever realising she wasn’t born and bred a Summers.’

“What are you laughing at?” Dawn’s voice was slightly drowsy sounding, but definitely awake.

“I was remembering choosing not to eat you when you were twelve,” Spike answered.

Before he could continue Dawn said “Well you can just eat me now instead.”

“What the fuck?” Spike was about to say, when he realised that she had moved in the bed beside him and her legs were wide apart with the duvet down below her knees.

Spike grinned, and moved around until his face was level with Dawn’s cunt. She hadn’t really believed him, during one of those silly conversations lovers have, that as an English Victorian gentleman he would have called her vulva her cunt, and he had then suggested a series of poetic names, each sillier than the last; leafy glade, fount of delight, dewy mount until she had given in, laughing and agreed that ‘cunt’ was perfectly authentic! Whatever you called it, it was still slicked with a mixture of their body fluids from a few hours earlier. ‘As good as blood,’ Spike thought, as he brought his face even closer and ran his tongue along the cleft, lapping at the wetness but avoiding her most sensitive spot.

It only took a few strokes to make Dawn start to squirm – trying to bring his tongue into contact with her clit. The more she tried to push herself down into the bed as his tongue swept forwards the more carefully he avoided making the contact she wanted. He could hear her moaning and laughing at the same time – he loved that sound, and he found himself smiling as he used his hands to hold her hips still.

Now he started to nibble, after all she had invited him to eat her, but still he avoided the hard little knob that strained out of its sheath as if it was begging him to touch it.

“Rotten bastard!” Dawn spluttered, then her movements changed, and he heard her say “Move round a bit!”

It took only moments to realise what she was doing, and comply. Soon he was kneeling, mouth still at her cunt but now straddling her face so that she had his cock in her hand and her mouth.

Neither set the rhythm; they moved in time without thought.

As he felt the warmth of her mouth surrounding his cock, her tongue sweeping across the head, and the heat of her against his own tongue which was finally sweeping across her clit, he thought ‘When it’s good we’re dancing.’

Soon, as his teeth and tongue teased every part of Dawn within reach, he felt her tense and shudder as her orgasm poured through her. Even then she kept the rhythm until Spike felt himself unable to hold his own orgasm back any longer. Determined not to lose the rhythm either, just as he came he brought his tongue up in a long, firm stroke and Dawn’s second orgasm started one beat after his own.

………………

Dawn slept; a satisfied smile on her face, her skin still flushed.

‘It’s all about dancing, really, innit?’ Spike thought. ‘With Dru it was the Dance Macabre, with Buffy it was more a Paso Doblé,’ he side tracked and thought it was bloody weird what you learnt from watching so much daytime TV.

‘Even in that alley with Angel it was all about the dance, a Dance of Death that one should’ve been, but My God it had rhythm! Guess I’ve been sitting out a bit, but I’m right back in the middle of the floor now. Yep – and the Ramones are right up there singing –

‘Do you wanna dance under the moonlight?
Squeeze me baby all through the night
Oh baby, do you wanna dance?’

‘OK – not their best – bloody crap really, but it’ll do for now.’ Spike smiled to himself, and dozed until the other dawn sent grey light through the room.

…………………………………………..


“The Watchers used to have a charming little custom. On the Slayer’s eighteenth birthday they dosed her with a substance that neutralised her Slayer powers. They then pitted her against a vampire to see if she could defeat it using only human strength and her wits. I have no idea why, it seems bloody stupid to me, but that’s what they did.” Ethan held up a miniature whisky bottle. Its contents were a similar shade of brown to the original whisky but murkier, less transparent, lacking the characteristic amber glow when the light was behind it. “I took care to find out the formula. And the necessary ritual, because more than half of the effects come from magic. Quite a simple procedure, really.”

“Excellent. What is the dosage?” The Ferret asked.

“Ah. Well, that I’m not so clear on,” Ethan confessed. “The Council would administer small doses over several days, building up gradually. That’s not really feasible in our situation. I would say just whack her with a syringe full. There’s nothing in it that’s likely to kill her; and if it clobbers her Slayer powers permanently, frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

“Nor I.” The Ferret took the bottle. “I shall give this to Hakim. They can make their move tomorrow.”

“They’d better not assume that it makes her harmless,” Ethan said. “Her sister went through the test and still killed the vampire. A particularly nasty specimen, too, according to Ripper. Dawn might not be as intensively trained as her sister was, as she isn’t the only Slayer, but then your Turks aren’t vampires. And if they shoot her, well, that rather rules out asking her any questions.”

“Not necessarily,” The Ferret said. “It will be much easier with her alive, however, and I understand your point. I shall stress that they must treat her as extremely dangerous.”

“They’d better,” Ethan said. “In my experience Muslims tend to underestimate women. Against a Slayer that would be a terminal error.”

“They will not disobey me. Berberoglu has made it clear to them that he would be most displeased,” The Ferret assured him. “They have carried out their task of surveillance very efficiently so far. I am sure that they will be equally efficient when it comes to the abduction.”

Ethan pursed his lips. “Does it have to be in broad daylight? If the police get involved…”

“At night she is always accompanied by her boyfriend,” The Ferret pointed out. “Easier to deal with her alone. And none of the Turks have seen us, except for Hakim, and he will take no part in the capture. If they do attract the attention of the police it will not put us in danger.”

“It had better not. I’ve no desire to discover how a Czech prison compares to being incarcerated by the US military,” Ethan said. In his experience something always went wrong, even with the most carefully prepared plans, and he began to think about taking precautions. Escape and evasion techniques. A few little spells to help him get away if things did go wrong. It would do no harm to be prepared.


………………………………………………………



When day came it was bright and sunny. Over breakfast Dawn and Spike considered what effect this would have on their plans for the day; Dawn had a couple of books reserved for her in one of the municipal records offices, but this was in a pedestrianised area, and would require a walk across a very open square. Not exactly a vampire friendly place to reach and so Dawn would do this particular research on her own. Spike reckoned he could reach the university library by taxi without too much problem, so he would ring Milan and arrange to spend his day there.

Breakfast over they went back to their room; Dawn still taking care to avoid the centre of the dining room as they left it. She gathered up her notebook (of the paper variety – sometimes it was still easier to write notes that way than electronically), money, pens and phone, and set off out into the sunshine, promising to meet up with Spike later, at Milan’s office.

Spike rang the Watcher to say he would be arriving soon but, if Milan was busy, he would just work on his own as long as Milan could get him access to the stacks. Then he gathered up his broad brimmed hat, his thick gloves and his large umbrella to help him get from the hotel door to the taxi, from the taxi to the library door. ‘Look a bloody dork,’ he thought ruefully, ‘but less noticeable than with a blanket over me head, I guess! Roll on Christmas.’ Willow and the rest of her coven hoped to complete his personalised ring of protection from sunlight during the Winter Solstice ceremonies.

Milan welcomed him courteously, but Spike was amused to smell an edge of fear still there in the Watcher’s body odour. ‘Nice to know they don’t all think of me as neutered and totally tame!’ Spike thought. Milan unlocked the doors to the relevant part of the stacks, and excused himself saying that he had a student coming to see him.

Spike buried himself in the books and scrolls. Truth to tell he enjoyed the silence, the smell of old paper and vellum, the deciphering of ancient scripts and erratic handwriting. He was quite surprised when he heard the door open, and sensed the Slayer coming through.

“I have brought you something,” Jarmila said, holding out a large McDonald’s milkshake carton with a thick straw through the lid.

Before Spike could say anything she continued “It is pig’s blood. I told the butcher we wished to make blood pudding. I just thought it looked better like this if I met anyone, and less likely to damage the books if it is dropped, also.” A smile crossed her rather serious face and she handed the container over.

“Thanks,” Spike said, carefully putting down the book that he had been studying. Then he took a long sip and watched Jarmila’s face as the blood climbed the clear plastic straw. She kept watching him, her expression not changing at all, and Spike mentally congratulated her on not flinching at all, especially as he took the lid off and up-tipped the carton to get the last drops, like a small child would, then licked his lips.

“So,” Jarmila said as he put the carton down, “tonight I am going to tackle the Pravjec demons. Milan will come with me, and I will do just as we discussed. I think it will be no problem now that I know to avoid the tail spurs. There seem only to be two or three of them. The villagers exaggerated.”

Spike thought back to his musings over-night, and wondered about asking if he could join her, but she was right that she should easily tackle them herself, and she was not used to fighting alongside him in the way that Buffy had, so better if he and Dawn volunteered to do a sweep inside the city whilst Jarmila was out in the countryside.

He suggested that idea to the Slayer, being honest enough to say that he was restless for a fight. At this Jarmila grinned, and said that she would be very happy for Dawn and him to do a sweep, but also if he wanted a good fight she would be more than happy to spar with him. Milan was all well and good, she said but the only time she had a really good sparring partner was when she went back to Watcher HQ for training, or her colleague from Krakow visited.

Milan grinned when they told him they were going to do some sparring, and then threw a key at Jarmila. She led Spike down a side corridor, and unlocked an anonymous looking door - Jarmila’s training room was right there, down in the library basement. “Everyone thinks it is something to do with another department, except the cleaner and he thinks it is empty,” she explained to Spike. “Milan and I just moved the boxes of books to other places, anyone who noticed was pleased to find more relevant books in their own archive, and no-one realised that we emptied the whole room.”

“I know in real life I will not always have time to warm up,” she said as she ran through a few stretches and kicks, “but there is no point in risking injury when I do not need to.”

Spike noted that she did not change out of her jeans, jumper and trainers – training as she fought – good girl. He did a couple of limbering stretches himself, just for the look of it – no warming up for a vampire.

Milan joined them, and locked the door behind him. He picked something out of a drawer and tossed it at Jarmila. She caught it, without breaking her warm-up rhythm, and then tossed it on to Spike with a grin.

Spike looked at what was in his hands and then burst out laughing. It was a ‘pantomime dagger’ – the sort where the blade slides up into the handle as soon as any pressure went onto it. The perfect thing to practice ‘staking’ whilst sparring with her Watcher, and just as good to practice with a real vampire – no need to hold back, she could put her full weight into the attack.

They stayed in the training room for a couple of hours. Spike felt exhilarated; the young women who became Slayers thanks to Willow’s spell were definitely real, bona fide, Slayers if Jarmila was anything to go by. He hadn’t had as good a fight since that alley in LA. Other vampires and human villains were not really a challenge. He was interested to note that he was mildly turned on by the close proximity of Jarmila, but only mildly – and not obviously, for which he was quite grateful!

Eventually Milan called a halt, produced cold fruit juice and a cold lager for Spike, and reminded Jarmila that they would be leaving in a couple of hours to go and look for the Pravjec demons, and so she should go and eat. Spike bade them goodbye, went back to the books from which he had been taking notes earlier, and soon was completely engrossed in his task.


………………………………………………………


The General frowned at his daughter. “Must you wear such a short skirt, Anna? It is almost indecent. You will distract Dinos and Khristophoros from their duties.”

“It is practical,” Anna said. “It does not hamper my leg movements.” She grinned. “There isn’t enough of it to hamper anything. Come on, Dad, I can’t wear anything like this back home. Let me just enjoy being here, okay?”

“Oh, very well,” the General conceded. “I suppose it is no shorter than those that I have seen other girls here wearing.”

“Oh?” Anna raised her eyebrows. “I’ll have to try harder. Pass me the scissors, please, Dad.”

“Certainly not!” the General snapped. He spotted the twinkle in his daughter’s eyes and sighed. “I don’t know if you’re keeping me young or making me old before my time.”

“Oh, young, definitely,” Anna said.

“I hope so. How did you get on today?”

“Positive identification,” Anna reported. “This is the girl who they are watching.” She handed her mobile phone to her father and he watched as a video clip played. “She has a nice smile,” Anna commented. “I get the feeling that I would like her. Those gangsters mean her harm, I sense it. Can I kill them now, please, Dad?”

“I wonder what they want with this girl?” the General mused. “Have you found out who she is?” He passed the phone to the Seer.

“Dawn Summers,” Anna told him. “An American tourist. Travelling with a boyfriend, apparently, but I haven’t seen him yet. I guess she’s a Slayer, if she’s connected with the Key, but I wouldn’t have thought so otherwise. She doesn’t move the same way I do.”

“Well, she probably is not a traceuse,” the General pointed out. “I doubt if there is anyone else in the world who moves like you.”

“What girl?” the Seer broke in. “I see no girl.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Rewind it, Minta.” When the Seer made no move to do so, but continued to stare at the screen with narrowed eyes, Anna reached out and took the phone from the older woman’s hands. She ran the clip back to the beginning and returned the phone to the Seer. “There,” Anna said. “The long-legged girl with red-brown hair and a wide mouth.”

“There is no girl there, Ioanna,” Minta insisted. “I see only a smudge of green. It moves along at walking pace but it is no girl. No human.”

Anna glared at the Seer. “Have you broken my phone?”

“Green?” The General moved to look over the Seer’s shoulder. He put his finger on the screen. “I see a girl there. You see a green smudge?”

“The Key,” Minta hissed. “It has taken the form of a human.”

“That is a human,” Anna insisted. “I think a pretty nice one, too. Definitely a pretty one.”

Her father shook his head. “Minta has the gift of sight,” he reminded her. “She can recognise the Key regardless of its form. That is the Key. The monks hid it perfectly.”

“But it’s a girl,” Anna said. Deep furrows appeared on her forehead. “She’s a girl. It couldn’t be that perfect.”

“Were it not perfect the Beast would have discovered it and destroyed the world,” the General said. “So, now we know. And so, too, does The Ferret, I fear, or why else would his gangster allies be watching this… construct?”

“So we’d better stop him,” Anna said.

“Yes,” the General said. A small smile appeared on his lips and gradually spread across his whole face. “The Key is in our sights. The task of fifteen hundred years could be nearing its end. The Key is the link. The link must be severed.”

“Such is the will of God,” Anna replied automatically, and then her face paled. “You can’t mean…”

“You must destroy the Key,” her father commanded. “It is the only way to be certain that it cannot fall into the hands of evildoers.”

“But… she’s a girl,” Anna protested. “It would be murder.”

“The will of God cannot be opposed,” the General said sharply. “Destroy the Key, Anna. Without delay.”

Anna’s mouth twisted, and she seemed about to protest again, but then she lowered her head. “I will obey your command, father. The Key is the link. The link must be severed.”

“Such is the will of God.”


………………………………………………….


Spike was surprised when Milan came in and said that he was leaving in a few minutes, could Spike be ready to leave then? He had expected that his perusal of the books would be interrupted by Dawn’s arrival. She must have found something very interesting at the records office, he thought. He glanced at his watch. Actually the records office must be closed by now; presumably she’d stayed until it closed, and then headed back to the hotel expecting him to be back there by now as well.

It was nearing dusk outside. Spike decided to ring Dawn, and let her know that he was on his way to the metro, but all he got was “The mobile phone is switched off, or does not answer, please try again later.” ‘Bugger,’ he thought, ‘Bet she switched it off in the records office and forgot to switch it back on. Still, she’ll know I’ll be on my way by now,’ and he even stopped on the way to the metro to buy her some chocolate.

Spike entered their hotel room, coat slung over his shoulder, asking “How did you get on, pet?” There was no answer. No-one was there.


……………………………………………………………………….

The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.


Feed back is not only gratefully received, it is as manna from heaven - feed us, feed us, and make us feel happy!

Date: 28/04/2007 10:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] curiouswombat.livejournal.com
Those Knights just do not move forward do they Well they aren't riding horses any more.... which is probably why no-one realises that they still exist....

January 2025

S M T W T F S
   1234
56 7891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated 3 Jul 2025 09:56 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios