Fic: Prisms Third part. Prisms-Violet

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Disclaimer: Theirs not mine.



Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents
A Mad-Hamlet Production

Prisms- Violet

	
I really must throw away this CD. Which is shame because it 
does hold one of my most favorite pieces of classical music on it. 
It's just that I am thoroughly convinced it is hellishly evil.
Every tragedy that has come upon us, every challenge or great 
darkness, has usually been preceded by myself sitting down with a hot 
kettle of fine tea, a good book, and Pachebel's Cannon playing over 
the stereo; and a ham sandwich, never ever forget the sandwich. 
One would think that either the sandwich or the tea suspect but such 
things did not occur when I listened too Beetoven, or Bach, Straus or 
even Motzart; just Pachebel's Cannon. That night was no exception. I 
had not forgotten the sandwich and tragedy did come. 

Being the eldest member of a team of primarily young people, 
led by one who is destined to face the forces of supernatural evil, I 
find myself more often than not being relegated to duties usually 
involving research. Said research usually lasts very late into the 
night and due to these circumstances I find myself having somewhat
odd hours. This, by default, sometimes leads to insomnia so on that 
particular night I was battling it as usual with the aforementioned, 
book, sandwich, music habit of mine. 

It also suited another purpose as my unwilling housemate, 
Spike, was out and about the neighborhood and I thought it a good
idea to wait for his inevitable return. I was flipping through the few
CD's I owned and decided to listen to Pachebel's Cannon as it had been 
a good long while since the last time. If I had bothered to recall, 
the last time I had listened to that particular piece of music was 
just before Angelus attacked me. 

No sooner had I inserted the CD and settled in my chair when 
Spike came waltzing through. Without a word he simply strode around
me and entered the kitchen. I could hear him rustling about as the 
first few notes of the music floated around the room. He seemed to 
like it as I heard him, belatedly, trying to whistle along. A few 
minutes later he came back into the living room carrying a large 
glass. 

"Drinking it cold tonight?" I asked.
"It's mixed with bloody vodka, you can bloody well bet I'll 
drink the bleedin' concoction cold."
	
He seemed...tense. 

"Yes, well..." I began.
"Do you have any bleedin' idea how annoying that is?" Spike 
interrupted me.
"Eh...what?"
"That too."
"Sorry?"
"Sod off!"
"What on Earth is the matter with you?" I finally snapped.
"Better." And a smug smile was the only reply I got before he 
took a long pull on the tankard.

"What's wrong with me Mr. Watcher? You really want to know?" 
He finally asked wiping away the blood with his shirt cuff.
	
I put my book down. 

"Yes Spike, tell me what's the matter, tell me what's bothering 
you...did the puppy dog you toss in the street not get hit by a car? 
Did you see a particularly delicious pair of twins that you really 
wanted but just couldn't taste? How does that commercial go? No one 
can eat just one? You watch more TV than me. You should know!" By
this 
time I was practically shouting. 

To this day I don't know why he got to me so easily. Spike is a
pretty unflappable person despite having a a very short temper and 
maybe it was the fact that he was behaving ...not normally... that set 
me on edge. Of course 'normal' for Spike would have a leave a sane 
person.... not. Regardless I had lost it and allowed him to win the 
'battle' as it were; not my proudest moment.

With exaggerated movements Spike set his tankard aside and gently 
clapped his hands together.

"Quite right 'old bean'." He said. "But no, it was nothing like that. 
In a way I'd rather have to deal minor difficulties such as that very 
entertaining list you offered. Yes, something is 'the matter' in fact 
several things are 'the matter'. Several large ugly things that, I'm 
sorry to say, do not simply go poof when embedded on a stick. What is 
even worse is I cannot take responsibility for 'the matter' though I 
seriously doubt even I would go to such lengths." He paused looked 
introspective for a moment before coming to a decision of some sort 
and resumed speaking. 

"It's also not my place to discuss what is 'the matter' as it doesn't 
exactly involve me at least not willingly. I stumbled across it and 
unless you do so yourself or they allow you in, then fine. But for 
now...sit down you're blocking the telly."

And with that little speech said he reached down, grabbed the tankard 
and took another long pull. 

I was shaking... I was livid...no I meant it I was quite honestly and 
truly annoyed!


Here I am former agent of a group that's job involved hunting down 
creatures of the night and here, in my very own home, now sits one of 
said creatures behaving like a..a....I don't know.
I was seriously tempted to slap the tankard out of his hand but I'm 
quite sure the most that would have gotten me is a false hurt look, 
some snide comment, and a permanent stain in my carpeting. 

I was also suddenly very nervous. Something 'bad' had happened 
or as Spike had said something was 'the matter'. However he wouldn't 
say what it was other than that it bothered even him and he had also 
mentioned that even he would not have done whatever it was that was 
'the matter'.

I took of my glasses to rub the bridge of my own and froze 
when he gave a snort. Putting them back on I tried to approach the 
situation in a calm rationale manner as befitting someone with 
my..background. 
	
"Spike."
He ignored me.
"Spike."
Another pull on the tankard.
"Spike!"
"I said 'no' Watcher. I know, I know what you're thinking. 
'Spike? Respectful of privacy? He kills people as food, you can't 
invade a person's privacy more than that!' Well, bollocks that,
you're bloody wrong and that is all I'm gonna say on the matter." He 
craned his neck to take a look at the clock. I glanced at it myself
wondering the significance. 
Keeping his eyes on the clock he held out his hand palm up 
with all five fingers out. Then began curling them one by one.

Five....four...three..two....one....zero.
The phone rang.

"Oh goody." Spike suddenly was smiling. He rubbed his hands 
together gleefully. "Showtime!"

I walked over to the phone which was still ringing. 
"One day you'll tell me how you did that." I said.
He shrugged. "Honestly? Lucky guess."

I picked up the phone. 
"Hello?"
"Giles." I wasn't sure because her voice sounded so diffrent.. 
flat..but I thought it was Buffy.
"Buffy?"
"Giles what would happen if I killed someone?" She said. 
"What? What on earth are you talking about?"
"Hypothetical question Giles." She said in that same flat 
voice. "Just answer. What would happen if The Slayer killed another 
person? Any magic curses? Lose my powers? Get damned for eternity? 
Anything?"
	
It took me a few seconds for the gears in my mind to start turning. 
"Er..um...no..nothing like that. Recall that Faith did kill the
deputy Mayor and she's is still among the living." I winced. "In a 
manner of speaking."
The fact that Buffy had nearly killed her ...less restrained 
counterpart still haunted her and I was quite upset with myself for 
being so careless with words. For a minute I felt a bit like Xander 
and braced myself for the worst. I was not quite expecting the 
response I actually got.

"That doesn't matter right now. She wasn't...she wasn't really a 
Slayer at the time. So...that doesn't answer my question. Have any 
other Slayers in the past ever killed a human not involved in 
this...this dark vs. light war thing?"

Stretching the cord across the room I strained to reach one of the 
Watcher Journals I still had. Spike stretched his feet out as if to 
trip me then pulled them back at the last instant. Ignoring him I 
flipped through a few pages looking for a particular paragraph. 

"Um..Buffy..the only case involving a full 'on duty' Slayer ever 
killing a human on purpose was?" I skimmed over the page. "The
early eighteenth century. It seems a group of slavers and their 
'cargo' and 
were attacked by a nest of vampires." I skimmed some more. "When she 
arrived she discovered that the Slavers, in a bid to buy more time
for themselves had chained their slaves to a tree leaving them to be 
fed upon so they could escape. After saving those she could the Slayer 
then killed the slavers themselves."

"And?" Buffy said in that same quiet voice.
I sighed. "And the Council decided she was a rouge and had her
hunted down." Setting the book down I took off my glasses and rubbed 
the bridge of my nose, not giving a damn what my 'houseguest' thought 
of my habits.

"That's fine." Buffy said.
"What?"
"I said, 'That's fine.' I'm already outs with the Council so I don't 
need to worry about them."
"Buffy," I was becoming uncomfortable with the direction this 
conversation was going. "Buffy, what's going on? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine Giles." She said quickly.
"Then why are you asking me these questions? Why do you want to know 
about this sort of thing now?" I paused. "Who are you planning on 
killing?"
"I'm sorry Giles. I can't talk about it." She said.
"Buffy tell me what's happening. I can't help you if you won't talk
to 
me." I shot a glance at Spike. He appeared to be trying very hard not 
to laugh. We would have words after I got off the phone.
"I can't talk about it Giles. I promised her I wouldn't."

I've always thought of myself as a smart man; good insticts and a 
willingness to listen to that little voice in the back of my mind. In 
my line of work maintaining such and not losing touch with 
your..erm..humantiy over 'responsibilities' is a critical part of 
staying alive.

When Buffy said 'I promised her' I could feel the blood drain from my 
face. The 'little voice' grew to a loud choir and on some level I 
already knew what she was talking about though I could not..or would 
not..recognise it. Instead I waffled.

"Um..Buffy..is Willow there?"
"She's sleeping Giles."
The choir became a howling.
"I..I would like to speak to her. Could you wake her?"
"I have to go Giles. We'll talk later."
The howling became a storm.
"Buffy."
The phone was silenced with a 'click'.
"Buffy? Buffy!" Having had already hung up the phone I doubt she
heard me.

Gently setting the phone back in it's cradle I sat down across from 
Spike. He was hunched forward on the sofa, his knees supporting his 
arms which, in turn, were supporting his head with one fist. He
looked somewhat like a modern version of that statue..um..'The 
Thinker" except for the huge smile splitting his features. 
I sighed. 
"You seem to know something of what this is all about Spike."
He nodded still grinning.
"And you refuse to tell me what this 'about' involves."
Again a nod.
"Buffy won't say anything either but asks about any potential 
penalties for a Slayer that kills a human being but she won't tell me 
what's going on either."
"You're on a roll Watcher. Keep up the good work." He said.
"And I'm guessing your 'matter' has something to do with why she 
called."
He went back to nodding.
"You said I had to stumble across it, well I believe I have so..will 
you tell me what you know?"

Spike pursed his lips and lay a finger over them making a 
mockery of someone deep in thought. He held this pose for a few 
seconds.

"No. Can I watch TV now?"

Well that was quite enough of that, thank you. 

I grabbed Spike by the collar and slammed him against the wall 
with all my weight behind it. I doubt it hurt him very much but the 
grunt he made was somewhat satisfying. 

"I don't care Spike." I snarled. "I simply do not care about 
your place..or any place..or your idea of 'perserving privacy' you 
will tell me what you know and you will tell me right now." Our faces 
were barely inches apart. 

He didn't look worried and indeed he had little reason too, as 
there wasn't a threatening wooden object anywhere nearby and I 
couldn't exactly beat him to death.

We stared into each others eyes for a few minutes, me 
breathing heavily and Spike..well..not looking concerned in the 
slightest and not breathing at all. 
	
He gave a sigh of exasperation and rolled his eyes.

"I'm dissapointed in you Watcher." He said calmly. "I always 
figured you for such a bright lad and to be let down like this." He 
shook his head. "Such a let down." 
	
I slammed him against the wall a few more times; useless but 
in a visceral way satisfying. 
	
He just gave me a pitying look and we stood there for a few 
minutes locked together like that. The realization that this wasn't 
working finally weedled it's way into my mind and I reluctantly let 
him go. 

"Thanks." He brushed his shirt a few times. "I hate it when 
the material gets all wrinkled. I look terrible that way and I'm not 
good with an iron?"

"Shut up Spike." I said wearilly before colapsing in my seat. 
Pachobel's Cannon was still playing. 
"Oh but if I do that Giles I can't tell you what you want to 
know." He shrugged. "But? it that's the way you want it?" he
let the sentence drift off. I refused to rise to the bait and just sat 
there looking at him.

Throwing up his hands Spike sat down across from me again and 
stretched out the sofa. Leaning back in a reclining position he said, 
"Alright I've had my fun, fair is fair an' all." He looked at me from 
the corner of his eyes. 
"It's really simple Giles." He said it like he was pointing 
out it was raining. "Willow?your little witch was raped tonight." 

It was a very good thing that I was already sitting down when 
he said that. Had I not been I probably would have hurt myself quite 
badly.

"Wh..what did you say?" I managed to get out.

Spike sat up, leaned in my direction and carefully enauciated 
each syllable..in a quiet whisper..in my ear.

"I said?Willow.. your..little..witch..was?raped..tonight."
He paused. "You do know what that means don't you? Should
I maybe?get you a dictionary?"

I hit him. I really did, a nice clean left hook to his jaw 
that rocked his head back and while he was disoriented I lept up to 
and pulled one of the swords off the wall. It took a few moments to 
get it down and that was enough for him to leap to his feet and 
clamber over the sofa. 
I advanced on him with the blade held in front of me, yes I know 
Vampires don't fear steel..well..unless you cut their heads off. In 
that case it will work fine which was my intention at the time.

"H-hey now Giles?you ..don't want to do that now do you? I 
mean this is awful Greek of you..trying to kill the messenger of bad 
news.." Ah. Now I had made him nervous! How wonderful.

"How would you know this?!" I roared. "How would you know what 
had happened unless you were there!!" I swung at him but he ducked 
underneath it and darted across the room, keeping his head down. 
"I wasn't there! I swear it..I ..I just got lucky an'.." I saw 
him wince. "Bloody hell..poor choice of words!" 
He held his hands out in placating gesture while shooting looks over 
his shoulder ..at the corner I was herding him into. 

"You saw it didn't you?" I thundered. "You sat there, watching 
it happened and were probably laughing yourself silly!!" I charged. 
Had I been striking at a normal person I wouldn't have missed but
even though he couldn't hurt me back he still had his vampric speed 
and managed to evade the blow. 

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" He shouted back. "You're 
food to me, would you get your jollies watching cattle shag?"

"That's an excellent point." I shouted back, kicking the table 
out the way..I'd clean it up tommorow. "But we also don't swear oaths 
of vengence at our beefstock either!" 

"Beef doesn't fight back!" 

He tried to get past me again but this time I was ready and managed
to land a kick in his gut and, while it didn't hurt him it gave me the 
oppurtunity to pin him to the wall, the swords edge at his throat. 

"Talk." I commanded.
"Jesus Christ, why didn't you just ask?" He was stretching his neck
in an effort to keep away from the sword.
"It was during my walk, minding my own buisness, looking for the odd 
demon to shred and I saw her walkin' home. I could smell it on her. I 
followed her, watched her not tell The Slayer and then hung 
around outside the window until Summer's caught on and ran off to do 
her 'best friend thing' with Red in the shower. That's it. I swear."

I slowly relaxed the blade as the full impact of the revelation began 
to make itself felt. I could feel the strength began to drain away 
from my limbs. The sword clattered to the ground and I let it lay 
where it fell. 

"Dear God." I muttered

"Oh I can assure you," Spike said, rubbing his throat. "God had 
nothing to do with this, and I can take some satisfaction in the fact 
that Hell didn't either. This little escapade is all human." 
 
I let his running commantary pass over me, not really listening. 

It was, it is, the most neutral expierence I have ever had. A
complete nothing on the emotional spectrum. No pain or rage or hate, 
no worry or sympathy either like those parts of my mind had 
just..stopped. Run out petrol like. 
I was left with just a smooth, icy machine like mind running and it 
just kept proccessing the same thought over and over.

Willow was raped.
Willow was raped.
Willow was raped?

"Willow.." I whispered to the air beside me.
"Mm?" Spike looked up. He had sat down on arm of the sofa closest to 
me and had been resting his head in his hands a moment before.

"She..was raped." I whispered again.
"More than once." Spike said without emotion. "I got two different 
male scents."

"You smelled them?" I asked
"Yep."
"So you can track them." It wasn't a question.
"Yep."

And it all came rushing back, feelings, hating, saddnes, pain, rage, 
hate..all of it. I couldn't let Buffy do this. It just wouldn't be 
fair to her. I'd do it first.

I got to my feet. 
"Stand up." I ordered.
"Eh? Where we going?" He said.

I slipped on my jacket and headed for the door. "Hunting."

Spike was scrambling into his trenchcoat hurrying to catch up. "Why 
Giles, I didn't know you had it in you."

I turned in the doorway. 
"Not Giles, Spike." I took off my glasses and put them in my breast 
pocket. "Ripper."

"Ooooo."
	

	
	
Notes: Three chapters in two days...I'm burning out. I'm also 
panicking. I have little or no idea how to write Xander. Any and all 
feedback/Suggestions/Critisms MORE than welcome.