Repost: Prisms Violet

["mad-hamlet <Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx>" <Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx>]

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 to Beethoven, or Bach, Strauss 
or even Mozart; 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 tossed 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 television than I do. 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 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 with 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 off my glasses to rub the bridge of my nose, and froze when he 
gave a snort. Putting them back on I tried to approach the situation 
in a calm rational 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 for 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 
different...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' 
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 rogue 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 on 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 instincts 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...humanity 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...recognize 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 its 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." 

"You're on a roll, Watcher. Keep up the good work," he said. 

"And I 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 laid 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 'preserving 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 other's 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 disappointed 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 disappointment." 

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 wheedled its 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 wearily before collapsing 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? if 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 on 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. 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 enunciated 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 disorientated I leapt 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 
happen and was 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 vampiric speed and 
managed to evade the blow. 

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

"That's an excellent point," I roared back, kicking the table out the 
way. I'd clean it up tomorrow. "But we also don't swear oaths of 
vengeance at our beef stock 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 opportunity 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 business, looking for the odd 
demon to shred and I saw her walkin' home. I could smell it on her. I 
followed her home, watched her not tell The Slayer, and then hung 
around outside the window until Summers 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 made 
itself evident. I felt my strength drain from my limbs. The sword 
clattered to the ground and I let it lie where it fell. "Dear God." I 
muttered 

"Oh, I can assure you," Spike muttered 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 commentary pass over me, not really listening. 

It was, it is, the most neutral experience 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 processing 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 the 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, sadness, pain, rage, 
need...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 leather duster, 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."