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Date Posted: 12:38:12 08/03/04 Tue
Author: Saltygoodness
Author Host/IP: tayaus-tnt-2-216-40-234-200.ev1.net / 216.40.234.200
Subject: Re: FanFic "The Pet" - Prologue after the battle
In reply to: truelove 's message, "FanFic "The Pet" - Prologue after the battle" on 11:51:38 08/03/04 Tue

From the fanfic whore of all time: truelove, sweetie, you must keep going. That was, well, wonderful. Since I'm the original Pollyanna about the last televised Ats ending in triumph for the FG and Wes not being really, really, dead, this was a story I loved reading. Thank you.

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[> FanFic "The Pet" - Part One - The Arrival -- truelove, 15:01:37 08/03/04 Tue (NoHost/131.128.170.80)

REGRETS

The wrinkled, Zorackian reptilian looked down on the paper in front of him with sadness.
He pushed up his purple velvet sleeves and grunted in disgust. It was an official order from the High Command to turn in all pets of hybrid descent. Although there had been rumblings that this might come about, it wasn't planned for a near date and it caught him unawares. A man of his rank and superiority should be above such numb orders, but a new wave of politics was on the scene as the older ranks were thinning due to age and death. He weighed the chances of throwing his weight around in the right places and found it wanting. And due to an overhaul in Wolfram and Hart, he didn't have as many connections there of value as he did previously.

Much mayhem was resulting from the designer breeding. For one thing, no one had considered that they might develop a new species with evolutionary survival traits that might prove dangerous to the ordinary populace. It was a scientific blunder that the High Command was prepared to deal with in its own way. Very simple. They would experiment, find out if anything was worth emulating, and then exterminate the specimen. They enjoyed dissecting, probing, and queries.

This order, written on the official parchment with delicate marks of an expert pensman left no room for amateur forgery although some did. He might have been able to convey the command in a different vein, but now to disobey this one meant imprisonment and exaggerated fines. He was too old to defend his wife's adorable pet. He called his wife in to his study.

"She has to be returned to the center for examination", he said.

She gasped. "You mean for extermination", she gasped. "We can't let them take her! She continued, "Why should she be punished? She has never done anything but obey and serve. And besides ..", she murmured, "what right have they to do this? We've had her for years. Don't we own her? I have her papers from Wolfram and Hart."


"No", the old reptilian whispered with his raspy voice. "She was always owned by them.
Further, they are out of favor due to lapsed contracts. It didn't matter back then. If there is a chance, it would be to get her out of here." He hastily continued as though every second was a delay. "Slim, but a chance and we might face the wrath of the High Command if we're caught." They both fell silent. They knew what had happened to others who disobeyed direct orders. They had seen their heads impaled on stakes for the amusement of the High Command.

"What would you do?", his wife whispered back. "Better you don't know", he replied. "But it would save her." More silence. Then she said, "Are we too old to take a risk? Have we come to that? Spineless old people without recourse, dignity or ingenuity?" He smiled at her. "Not you, dear. Never you", he said tenderly."

So, the two old Zorackians who refused to relinquish their pet for extermination set off a chain of events. Such is the way of life. They removed the pet's tracking chip and placed it in one of the rams. It would do for the time being. It would give them time to smuggle out the pet.

They were fierce-looking creatures with claws over curved fingers and scales that reminded them of the reptilian race to which they belonged. Yet they had somehow become attached to the pet given to them for service many years ago. It was a hybrid child then. Pretty, and defenseless, and with the promise to serve them as they grew older. And the pet had done so and knew no other life. But who would take her? How would they do it? Here, in their farmland sanctuary, they lived as demons of rank and privilege. Never visible to the populace, always using servants for dealings, they were none-the-less very much there.

"I'll send her to Angel, Inc. They made it out of the attack. Angel and Spike".

His wife smiled. "Spike? Isn't he the one who loved Druscilla? And then the Slayer? Isn't he a womanizer?"

"We can hope", replied her husband, raising he eyes to above. "He would have the most patience with her and be the least judgmental, I think. He has a soft spot for those shunned by ordinary society. He laughed. "He identifies."

He patted his wife's leathery hand. "She resembles their kind. They could hide her in their midst's."

He showed his teeth. "They will hide her just fine because they themselves are in hiding."
"And you know where they are?", she asked.
"Of course I do." He drummed his claws making a strange sound on the desk. "I sent him some help when they most needed it. They should help me back now."

"Let's leave this life with no regrets", she said to him. "Let's not die as cowards.
Have them come on the next transport" She looked thoughtful.

"Should we tell them what she can do?", his wife asked. "No, he'll find out", he answered. "It might even be just what they are looking for."


&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


Spike had plenty of regrets since learning that Buffy was happy with the Immortal in Italy. At least once a day he asked himself what would have happened if he had just returned to her or even if he had stayed in Italy to see her. Now it seemed pointless.

He ran his hand through his white hair. Just the thought of her - with him - had set his head spinning. Now dead, he was more than ever a block between them.

Had he considered that the Immortal might defeat him? Perhaps. But it was probably that he thought she would choose him over what they had together. She didn't waste any time in leaving after Sunnydale. In his imagination he had pictured that she might return to the spot once a year and place a wreath or something. Now, not even that from the Slayer. Off she went with that scrappy bloke. Him, of all people. He didn't realize that he was pressing the pen down on the paper and he drove it through ruining the letter he was writing.

He wondered if he wasn't destined to always lose the one he loved the most. Maybe that would be his punishment in return for immortality. Oh, sure, he had survived Wolfram and Hart, but for what? Nothing would ever be the same without her. No one could be her replacement. Why hadn't that been the same for her?

Angel read the Zarackian's request with interest. He had rumors of this breed of human-demon and some were warnings. The "Pet" as she was called, could be very dangerous if threatened. A smile crept across his handsome face. Why not send Spike to pick her up"? All he did was hang around moping. Oddly, it was Angel who seemed to get on with life more than Spike after Buffy. Along with maturity came acceptance and resignation. These two qualities were still not as much in evidence in Spike.

The next thing he knew, Spike was on the transport going to see an old friend who begged for this favor. Going right behind enemy lines in the Zorackian's zone to pick up something very important. Worse, he had agreed to go. He had been bored. Now he was alert and almost nervous with his senses tingling. He sensed danger, and part of him welcomed it, but he knew he was always thrusting himself in harm's way and some day … well, he brushed it off. He could handle it.

The black Cadillac with the tinted windows was waiting for him when he arrived. He slipped in, enjoying the feel of the leather seats and easily passed through the border inspection. Past great hulking reptilians. Getting in was never a problem, getting out alive was. They more often than not were killers. Usually he relied only on his strength and wits, but this time he carried a gun as well. If nothing else, it showed others he meant business.

On and on he drove, out into a far region known as Colartsci. He noted the vineyards and the farmland and finally came to a high knoll where the farmhouse jutted out against the landscape. He was greeted warmly and offered a cup of tea but hardly was it finished when the Zorackian left the room to get his very important package. He returned with the unconscious girl wrapped in a blanket. He had sedated her for her own safety because when frightened, the girl would change colors like a rainbow. And if really frightened …

"Whoa!! What 'ave we here?", Spike demanded. "What in the bloody hell is going on here? That's not a package; it's a girl wrapped up like a mummy!" Her face showed and was still flushed. Long lashes framed her eyes and she was so fair he could see her blue veins in her closed eyelids.

"Well, yes and no", said the Zorackian. "She was our "Pet". To save her we need to have you smuggle her out and on the transport. If not, they'll kill her and maybe even us for trying to keep her. A command has come down."

"What the hell do I look like? Batman or something?", Spike sputtered. "Do I look like a smuggler to you? Well, I am sometimes, but that's beside the point. Are we getting paid for this?"

"Handsomely", replied the Zorackian.

Spike fell back and sort of smiled. "I guess my reputation has followed me."

It was agreed not to kill the ram until Spike was safely out and to bury it as though it was the pet. If all went as planned, they could say she died in an accident. It was a shaky plan, but a plan at least. The old boy had a bite to him after all. And some owed him favors. At least Angel did and that was why he had sent Spike to collect her. Money aside, the old one had pleaded and promised to return the favor. The plan was simple enough.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Once again in the blackest of nights the Cadillac sped along the crumbling highway with Spike driving and the girl slumbering under the blanket like a small child way past its bedtime. He hardly glanced at her for his mind was too busy as he approached the inspection point at the transport base. She moaned, but he cuddled her close. "Shusssssh, little one. There, there. Sleep. Sleep." He kept her tucked under his arm. The guard at the point looked in and saw the sleeping figure. "She's my kid", Spike said. "My turn for a visit."

"Does she have papers?", the guard asked. "Yeah", Spike answered but didn't
produce them. "She's sleeping." Spike handed him a bottle of wine. The guard was confused but chose to believe him when Spike fattened the palm with some of the cash promised to Angel. He didn't look over the hastily contrived "papers" that the Zorackian had given them. Had he done so, Spike would might have killed him or made a run for it. They were waved through and thus began the most extraordinary happenings in many a month of Tuesdays.

He had "tight connections" at the base: his transport was leaving in 10 minutes. He parked the car and slung the girl over his shoulder as he loped down the plank and on board. He waved credentials in their surprised faces and took a seat in the rear with
a gun drawn. He needed have bothered. No one wanted any part of the fanged one
with high clearance credentials. He answered to no one there.

The girl nestled against him, her heart beating slowly and reassuringly. When she opened her eyes, she was startled, for her last memory had been of the farmhouse and her master injecting her with morphine. "Shuuush", Spike commanded. "Shuuush. I'm taking you
to a safe place. Away from the High Command." She nodded, turning many colors as predicted. He almost laughed. He liked the mauve one. "Shuuush". She couldn't move anyway for she was wrapped in the blanket that she recognized as her master's. The one right off his bed. He had thought its scent would reassure her. An unbidden tear rolled down her face. She would never see them again. "There, there", Spike cautioned, suddenly noticing that the "Pet" had feelings. The way her hair fell across her small face with her heart beating faster now, and with her fear showing, left the champion in him no recourse. "I'll protect you, I promise.", he said softly to her. "They won't get you., pet."
He thought of the many slights that he had received before he got his soul and even after. "Just because you're a bit different, huh? Well, that doesn't fly with me. The buggers can go …", and he didn't finish the sentence because he was talking to a girl. He would have to mind his tongue.


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[> [> Re: FanFic "The Pet" - Part Two - AND SO IT WAS -- truelove, 10:26:19 08/04/04 Wed (NoHost/131.128.170.80)

AND SO IT WAS

Ilyria pushed back her hair and held it in place with an ornate comb that had belonged to Gunn's grandmother. She had no idea that she was beautiful. She looked at her image reflectively. When she heard Wesley coughing she swiftly went into the "recovery" room that had been set up by Angel for Wesley and Gunn. "Nurse" Ilyria had plenty to do these days.

Willow and Ilyria. What an odd combination for a prophecy to be fulfilled. It was written that a witch-goddess and an ancient one, long dead, would serve in the apocalypse in restoring balance. It didn't mention a souled vampire, nor the Shanshu, but they were connected as a string of events, and like lights on a Christmas tree, if one was blown, the others didn't function. Wesley in studying the scriptures and dusty books had seen no significance to that passage, nor could he decipher it without months of study. He simply was stretched too thin. Ilyria had taken much in the way of surveilance. She was his prime focus for months.

Willow had arrived uncertainly and with great trepidation. Longing to be of help, but wary of using her great powers less she be drawn into the darkness of the whirlpool of magics, she came because Buffy was going and she would back up Buffy. Buffy. She would always back up Buffy.

Ilyria came to her demanding therestoration of Wesley and the dying Gunn. Gunn was clinging to life by a thread. The witch was here, so the witch should follow her instructions.

Both men had been dealt the final blows, but some magic was involved and powers beyond human endurance, and both men were undeserving of such a fate. Ilyria ended up shamelessly begging. There was a time to be forceful, but it wasn't working with Willow.

Kennedy stood between Ilyria and Willow. Already jealous of Buffy's friendship with her beloved, she refused to be a part of anything that further threatened Willow.
"Hit the bricks, girly.", she said defiantly to the still powerful Ilyria. Her eyes were narrowed to mere slits.

Xander was on the fence about it. Sure, he wanted Wesley and Gunn to survive, but he loved Willow just too much to risk her. Giles was against the dark forces even if they were to be used for the good. Ilyia had to wait for a chance to speak to Willow alone.

"I almost destroyed the world", said Willow. "You can't imagine the powers that can be unleashed and the consequences of such acts." She shook her head.

"Yes, I can.", answered Ilyria. I almost became a bomb. I would have blown them all to smithereens.

"Really!",

"Yes, little one. Really."

"But this is different", Ilyria contintued. "We could join our powers and keep each other in balance. We could restore."

"You love him don't you?", Willow asked.

"I don't know …", Ilyria stammerd. "Fred did."

And so it was. The powerful and consuming spell all but drained Ilyria who insisted on being the one who would forfeit her existance of it failed. And the "blue one" as she was known, had extraordinary physical changes such as had Willow before her. Even when the spell was over and Willow collapsed , Ilyria felt not quite as before. She couldn't explain it, but she noticed that her eyes would change color from time to time. Small price for the return of her Wesley and of Gunn.

Willow would not restore the Immortal One. He had been killed by Angel, one of his own kind. It set up an uneasy and volitile situation between her and Buffy. Buffy blamed the death of her companion on Angel and Spike.

While Willow could do a bit, maybe just enough for Gunn to survive, and reverse the death of Wesley, there was nothing she could do for the Immortal one and for Buffy. She sadly knew the rift would be there. Buffy was ashamed of her feelings, and even of asking Willow, but desperate times often call for desperate measures. It hurt to be turned down by Willow. They had been through so much together.
And even as she forgave her, she built up a resentment for her own fate. It was a murky moil. Feelings were tense in sunny Italy.

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