Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: 19 Feb 2004 16:32:05 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: djinn@djinnslair.com (Djinn) 
 

TITLE: The Lost Years: Sins of the Past (Slayer Series)
AUTHOR: Djinn
CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com http://www.djinnslair.com
SERIES: TOS
RATING: PG-13
CODES: Ch, K, U, Others
PART: 1/3
SUMMARY: The fifth in the Lost Years series.  This follows "Release."



Kirk watched as the light spilling into his bedroom lit up Chris's
hair, the dark brown turning copper.  The light moved slowly, crawling
toward him, illuminating the bandage on her neck.  He imagined the
wound underneath was already healing.

She moaned, burrowing into him, and he smiled.  If it was wrong to
enjoy this, then he didn't care.  Not for the little bit of time he
had left before she woke, before she opened her eyes and they both had
to dial back and be friends again.  Friends who didn't run from each
other.  Friends who could pretend they didn't want more...so much
more.

She moved again, and her hair fell over her face.  He resisted the
urge to brush it back.  Not just because he might wake her and bring
this sweetness to a premature end, but because he wasn't sure he could
stop if he started to touch her.  It was hard enough feeling her
stretched along the length of him, her arm curled around his waist,
her head resting on his arm--an arm that had long ago fallen asleep. 
He didn't try to move it; the tingling pain somehow seemed a small
price to pay for this closeness.

He let his eyes close, resting them.  He'd slept longer than he'd
thought he would, wasn't surprised that she was sleeping even longer. 
She'd been patrolling too much.  He'd known it, but he hadn't tried to
stop her.  And neither had Emma, as far as he knew.  What had they
been thinking?

But Chris had been obsessed with finding Wharton.  Searched for him
everywhere she could think to look, never knowing that some of the
time she'd had her quarry hunting at her side.  Kirk still was
troubled at that.  What did Wharton want from her that he had gone to
such elaborate trouble just to get to know her?

Not that she wasn't worth going to elaborate lengths for.  

She moaned, eased off his arm and looked around blearily.  

"Good morning," he said, allowing himself to brush the hair away so
she could see.

She smiled, then grimaced.  Her hand reached for her neck.  "Oh,
yeah."  She closed her eyes, pressed against him again, as if she
could forget the previous night if she just got close enough to him.

"Does it hurt?"

She nodded.  "And I'm so thirsty."

He tried to move but she was holding him tightly.  "If you let me go,
I'll get you some water."

She looked up at him.  "If I let you go, then this will be over.  And
I like this."

He sighed.  Her eyes were sleepy, alluring.  Her gaze so calm,
especially when compared to the frantic woman who had been at his
door.  The hurt woman who had been brave enough to come to his door
after everything that had happened.  She smiled softly, as if asking
forgiveness for admitting that she enjoyed being close to him.

He wanted to kiss her.  He wanted to pull her to him and take her
clothes off and...

She moaned.  Didn't move but moaned, as if she could feel what he was
thinking.  Or maybe she was just thinking the same thing?

The moment stretched on and on.

"It doesn't make it any easier when you look at me like that," he
said.  "Or when you make that sound."

She looked down, backing off a little so she wasn't touching him. 

He suddenly felt very cold.  "You don't understand why we can't, do
you?"

"Not really.  But I know you feel strongly about this."  She put her
head down on the pillow, watching him.

"You wouldn't say no if I touched you, would you?  If I kissed you? 
Made love to you?"

She shook her head.  "But I won't make the first move either.  I
almost lost you altogether.  I don't want that to happen again."  She
reached out, her fingers soft in his hair. "I need you, Jim.  However
you can be in my life is fine."

He closed his eyes, let himself enjoy her touch for a moment.  Then he
pulled away.

She let her hand drop; it came to rest on the sheet between them. 
"I'm starving too," she said with a grin.

He realized she was giving him a graceful way out and loved her for
it.  "I'll make you eggs."

"Scrambled?"

"You haven't lived until you've had my scrambled eggs."

She smiled.  "Do you have a shirt I could wear?"  She fingered the
torn and blood-stained one she'd slept in.

He slid out of bed, rummaged through his closet and tossed her one of
his sweatshirts.  "Use the shower if you want.  There are extra towels
in the hamper."

"Is that a hint?"

"Not at all."  He winked at her, then left her to go fix breakfast. 
He heard the sound of the water, tried to force his thoughts away from
her in his shower--naked.  Tried and failed.

She came out, looking better in his shirt than he ever had.  He handed
her a cup of coffee and went back to the eggs.  He added dill, his
special ingredient, then threw some garlic in for good measure.  Maybe
it would keep Wharton away from her.

"So you and Lori seemed pretty tight last night?  How'd you get away
from her?"  Chris's voice was light, but falsely so.

He could tell his answer was important to her.  "She had something to
do with Carl's death.  The second I figured that out, it was as if
some spell had been broken."

"His dea--oh, god, Jim.  I didn't know.  I should have checked..."

"Nothing you could have done.  It was magic and we didn't know it
until it was too late."

"And you think Lori did it." 

"She was involved, maybe even the weapon that took him out, but
someone else fired it."

"Who?"

"I don't know.  But I'm going to find out."  He split the eggs between
two plates, added some toast and pushed the plates over, sitting down
next to her.

"Be careful, Jim.  Lori's dangerous enough on her own.  If she's
working with someone else..."  She dug into her eggs.

He nodded tersely.  "What is she exactly?"

She looked up at him.  "You mean you don't know?"

"I'm not a native in your world, Chris, remember?"

"She's a werewolf."  She took another bite of her eggs.  "These are
really good, by the way."

"A werewolf?"

She nodded, spreading some jam on her toast.  "Oh, yeah.  But I've
never met one who could control the change that way.  She should have
been a ravening beast when we saw her, not coming on to the two of
us."  She frowned.  "Which is sort of a ravening beast, just of a
different sort."  She grinned.  "Not that I'd have admitted it last
night, but I was drawn to her too.  My guess is that she was shooting
out pheromones like nobody's business."

"That's why I was suddenly attracted?"

She nodded.  "I think so.  Could be something to do with suppressing
the change.  I'll ask Emma if she's ever heard of this."  She sighed.

"What?"

"I've got to go see Emma next."

He nodded.

"I don't want to.  I feel so stupid."

He reached over, took her hand.  "You got away.  You're not stupid."

She nodded.  "Can you keep saying that till I believe you?"

"Yes, I can.  And I will."  He grinned at her, saw her expression
lighten.

"Thanks."  Her easy smile, a mix of gratitude and affection warmed
him.

They were going to be okay.

---------------------------

Christine spent the walk to Emma's townhouse looking behind her.  She
knew it was irrational to think that Wharton could be sneaking up on
her in broad daylight, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was
being followed.

She doubled back a few times, slipping down alleys and back around
until the twitchy feeling between her shoulder blades died down
somewhat.

She walked up the stairs, stood a moment to compose herself, then rang
Emma's door.

It took her watcher a long time to open it.  She blinked at the
sunlight, backing away, then coming back out as she grabbed
Christine's shoulder, pulling her in close.  Her hand touched the
bandage on Christine's neck.

"Good lord.  What happened?"

"I found David."  She let Emma pull her inside.

"And he bit you?  I don't understand?  Did you fight him after I
specifically told you not to?  How hard would it have been for you to
just once do what I say?"

"He fought with me...against other vampires.  The stories of him
helping slayers are probably true."

"So it was one of these other vampires that bit you?"

"No, it was David.  And I let him bite me."  

Emma sank down onto the couch, staring at Christine as if she was
speaking Klingon.  "You let him bite you?"

Christine nodded.  "He was going to turn me."  She didn't look away
from Emma's gaze, could see the confusion turn to worry in her
watcher's eyes.  "And I wanted him to."

Emma patted the couch next to her.  "Why?  You've come so far."  She
frowned.  "It's Admiral Kirk, isn't it?"

"It was.  That's all fixed now."  She laughed as she sat down.  It was
all fixed if you called sticking your head in the sand fixing it.  But
she'd live with that.  As long as she could still call Jim her friend,
she'd pretend she didn't want so much more from him.

Emma let out her breath, as if she'd been holding it.  "He rescued you
then?"

Christine smiled.  "No.  I rescued me."  She took Emma's hand in hers.
 "I wanted oblivion, and as I was getting it, I realized oblivion was
just another word for running away.  And I'm through doing that."

Emma's hand tightened on hers.

"It felt good though, Emma.  It felt so damn good.  I finally
understand why people pay vampires to bite them.  It was heaven."  She
smiled again, a crooked, wry gesture.  "But heaven is for dead people.
 And I want to live."

Emma's smile grew brighter as Christine finished.  She patted
Christine's hand awkwardly, then pulled her into a fierce hug.  "Yes. 
That's good.  That's very good."

Christine laughed.  "Emma?  You're squeezing really hard."

Her watcher let her go.  "Oh, my.  I am sorry.  It's just..."  She
looked down.  "I don't want anything to happen to you, my dear."

"I know.  I don't want anything to happen to you either.  And now that
I know what he looks like..."  She glared at Emma.  "Would it have
killed you to say black hair and blue eyes when I asked you what he
looked like?"

"He had blonde hair when I knew him.  Blue eyes though."  Emma
frowned.  "Back up a bit.  How exactly did he end up helping you?"

"Remember that civilian I told you about?  The one who had the little
crush?"

"Oh, good lord."

"Yep.  My puppy dog turned out to be a hellhound."  She shook her
head.  "I had the opportunity to stake him.  And I didn't."

"Was that before or after he tried to turn you?"

"Both."

"Well, let's take our victories where we can.  You didn't let him kill
you."

"Nope.  That I didn't."  Christine looked round the living room.  All
the shades were pulled, making the room very dark.  "Emma, this isn't
healthy.  He can't hurt you in the daytime.  You need to stop locking
the world away--at least while the sun is out." She walked over to the
blinds, reached for the pull and saw Emma wince.  Dropping her hand,
she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I've got a headache.  The light hurts."

"You've had a lot of those lately."

"Yes, well, that's how I manifest stress.  You let vampires bite you,
I get a migraine."

Christine sat down.  "Touche."  She walked back to the couch, stared
down at her watcher.  "I won't let him hurt you.  I said that once,
and I meant it."

"Christine, now more than ever it is imperative that you stay out of
this."

"He's made me a part of this, Emma."

"No.  He's just fascinated by you.  You're so much older than the
slayers he was used to."

Christine rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious.  He was used to a slayer being barely more than a child.
 But you.  You're a woman.  An attractive, vital, and..."

"Slightly disturbed one?  

"Well, not all sunshine and light certainly."  Emma smiled, trying to
make it better.  "He probably thought that you had some common
ground."

"We were like two peas in a pod."  Christine shook her head.  He'd
played her so well.  Probably still was playing her.  "And when we
didn't see eye to eye, he just screwed my mind over until we did."

"Yes.  He's good at that."  Emma looked down.  "Kevin's bringing a
team over from London.  We'll deal with David.  We'll take him out
this time."

"Yes.  _We_ will."

"No.  I've told you before.  Stay out of this."

"You've been letting me patrol all this time looking for him.  That
wasn't staying out of it."

Emma shot her a rueful grin.  "I never supposed you'd actually find
him."  She touched Christine on the arm.  "Please.  Leave him to us?"

Christine couldn't bring herself to lie to her watcher, so she didn't
say anything.

"You are so stubborn."  Emma rose, walked to the kitchen.  "Tea or
coffee?"

"Whatever you want."

"Tea then."

As Emma bustled in the kitchen, Christine got up and popped up one of
the blinds, looking at the houses across from Emma's.  Wharton could
be in one of them, watching the house.  Or maybe he lived closer to
the cemetery?  He had said he lived nearby.  Had that been some kind
of clue?

The flowers.  He probably bought them somewhere close to wherever he
stayed during the day, or on the way to campus.

"You're too quiet.  It's scaring me."  

Christine smiled.  Emma probably didn't need to know about the
flowers, or that Christine planned to track down every single merchant
in the area who sold lilies and white roses.  She should have
recognized the flowers for what they were--a funeral bouquet.

"Christine?"

She decided to take pity on her watcher.  "What do you know about
werewolves?"

"The usual lore.  How to kill them, when they change, what to feed one
if you keep it as a pet."  She laughed.

Christine could hear the clink of the pot.  She walked into the
kitchen.  '"Have you ever heard of one being able to control the
change?  To not transform when the moon is full?"

Emma nodded.  "The Osbourne line is known for that ability.  They're
quite respectable members of the community."

"How do they do it?  Through magic?"

"Through self-discipline, meditation, and some herbs."  Emma poured
out two cups of tea.

"Could magic do it too?"

Emma thought about it.  "Yes.  But the effect would be unpredictable. 
The preferred technique is to master the beast.  Not just chain it up.
 Magic is like putting a matchstick corral around a raging elephant. 
Unless one is very powerful, the beast will break through."

"What if the werewolf used sex as a safety valve?"

Emma took a deep breath.  "Well, that would relieve it for a while. 
But not forever.  Why are you asking this?  Did you run into a
werewolf?"

"A friend did."  Christine smiled, knew it was a mysterious smile. 
"I'm just looking out for him."

Emma nodded.  "Werewolves are a bit misunderstood, you know?  Most of
them don't want to change.  They'd rather stay human."

"When they have changed, they're mindless, right?  Not the kind of
thing you'd use for a job requiring finesse?"

"Oh, heavens, no.  They're strictly brute killers."

"That's what I thought," Christine said, as she sipped her tea.  Then
she put her cup down on the counter and turned Emma's face toward her.
 "Now, about these headaches.  Have you ever had them checked out? 
We're quite advanced, you know?  Here across the pond."  She smiled at
Emma's expression.

"I'm fine, Christine.  Migraines are an occupational hazard for a
watcher, I'm afraid.  Didn't you know that?"

"I didn't."  She laughed.  "Humor the new doctor.  This is still fun
for me."  At Emma's look, she let go of her.  "Oh, all right.  Just
get some rest."  She finished her tea.  "I've got to go out."

"You promise me that you'll stay out of this. I don't--"

Christine let the door close on whatever Emma was going to say next.

---------------------

Uhura wandered in the fresh air, enjoying the early morning sunshine
despite feeling a bit adrift.  Normally she spent Saturday mornings
with Len.  Either at their favorite little restaurant in Savannah, or
just down the street from her apartment at the neighborhood bakery. 
She missed Len.  Missed him more than she had expected.  They'd talked
several times since he'd gone, but it wasn't the same as having him
nearby, didn't make Saturday mornings alone easier to adjust to.

She squared her shoulders.  This was ridiculous.  She'd lived most of
her life without Len in it.  She was perfectly capable of getting a
nice breakfast on her own.  She was close to Kirk's apartment, and
there was a good coffeehouse across the street.  She'd go there.

The walk was pleasant and she took her time, finally arriving and
ordering a cappuccino and a croissant, which she took outside to eat
at one of the tables in the sun.  She looked around at the other solo
diners, all either reading padds or doing some kind of work.  Smiling,
she leaned back and enjoyed her coffee.  She didn't need to read to be
comfortable alone, she could sip the foamy mix and just watch the
people go by.

Like Christine.  Coming out of Kirk's building by herself and walking
quickly down the street.

Uhura smiled.  Christine better have a damn good story the next time
she saw her.  Or Uhura was going to give her the business for all she
was worth.

Christine crossed the street and Uhura thought her friend had seen
her.  She was about to lift her hand in greeting and call out, when
she realized Christine hadn't noticed her.  Then she saw the bandage
on her friend's neck.

She put her coffee down, watched as Christine got farther and farther
away.  If she'd wanted to see Christine, she should have said
something.  Following her now would be an odd thing to do.  Wouldn't
be right.

Uhura got up and set off down the street, the way Christine had gone. 
She saw her turn the corner, in the direction of Emma's townhouse. 
Uhura hurried to the cross street, looked down it, then ducked back
when Christine suddenly turned around.

Why didn't she just call out to her friend?  Uhura couldn't say what
motivated her to follow in silence, but it was that instinct in her
gut that had never let her down in the past.  The Uhura women had the
sight, her grandmother used to tell her.  Uhura wasn't so sure about
that, but there were times she had strong feelings about something.

And this was definitely one of those times.

She saw Christine cut through an alley, then to her surprise, saw a
man she hadn't noticed before, turn down the same alley, stopping at
the edge to peek around the corner.

Uhura stepped into the bushes.  What the hell was going on?

Christine eventually appeared out the other end of the alley, behind
where the man had stood, but he had ducked down an apartment entrance,
was hidden as she walked by.  Christine turned again, as if some
slayer radar was telling her that she wasn't alone.  Once she'd gotten
a safe distance away, the man came out again, resumed following her
down the street.

And Uhura followed him.  

Christine doubled back several more times, and they played it out
again--the man following Christine until he was sure she was doubling
back then hiding.  Uhura slipping into the shadows much farther back
until both of them moved on.

Christine finally seemed to relax, headed straight for Emma's house. 
The man stopped at the cross street, stood watching her.

Uhura came up behind him.  "Excuse me?"

The man spun, his hand going to his belt.  Then he seemed to relax.

"I'm looking for the Embarcadero.  Is this the way?"  She gave him her
best 'I'm lost' smile and prayed that he wasn't up on who Christine's
friends were and what they looked like.

He didn't seem to be.  His smile seemed genuine, was actually kind of
attractive.  "I'm sorry.  I'm new in town.  But I think you want to
head downtown."  His accent was British.

"Okay.  Thanks."  She turned around and walked down the street,
stopping to ask a woman for directions in case the man was watching
her.  From the way the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up,
she thought he was.

She turned the corner onto the street that the woman had said to
follow, then doubled back.  The man was still standing there, watching
Emma's house.  He pulled something from his jacket pocket; it looked
like a communicator of some sort.  He held it to his ear for a moment,
then turned and walked away from the house, coming directly toward
where Uhura was standing.

She hurried the short block to the main drag, practically threw
herself into a crowded bakery and waited for the man to go by.  He was
walking slowly when he finally came past, and she let him have a good
head start before leaving the bakery and following him down the
street.  She trailed him for several blocks.  Fortunately, he was
heading in the general direction of the Embarcadero--in case he
noticed her, her route made sense.  Then he turned into an alley
behind a row of businesses and she hesitated.

Long moments passed.  She stood undecided.  Suddenly, it was as if
every nerve in her abdomen screamed, so she ducked into another shop,
peeking out behind the displays in the window.

 She saw the man come back out of the alley, this time with three
other people--a man and two women.

All in tweed.  Didn't these people know that tweed was hopelessly out
of date?  And a dead giveaway as to their profession?

Uhura watched as they walked past her, heading into a small restaurant
down the street.  She waited a moment to make sure they were staying
put, then hurried out of the shop and back toward Starfleet Command. 
Christine might be interested in knowing about these watchers and
where Uhura had seen them.  Especially since one of them had been
following her.  And it would help if Uhura could pin down which
building they might be working out of.  Leases and deeds were on file
in the central database, and Uhura had access to everything in this
job.

She smiled.  She loved being able to help Christine once in a while.
 
---------------------


The scent of flowers hit Christine as soon as she walked into the
corner florist shop.  It was the first place she'd thought of. 
Wharton would have noticed it since it was located across from the
cemetery where he had so often contrived to meet her.  There was no
one at the desk.

"Hello?"

A young woman came out from the back, laughing, smoothing down her
skirt.  "Hi."

A young man followed her a second later.  He seemed to also be
adjusting his clothes.

Christine grinned.  More power to them.  "I was hoping you could help
me.  Someone sent me flowers last night for graduation, but the card
was lost.  I want to tell whoever bought them thank you, but..."  She
smiled helplessly.

"What kind of flowers?" the young man asked.  "I was working last
night."

"An assortment of lilies and white roses."

He shot her a look.  "That was for your graduation?  He said it was
for a funeral."

"He must have an odd sense of humor."  She could tell the kid agreed
with her.  "Any idea who he is?"

"He was a walk in.  We don't keep records unless you order them ahead.
 I kind of remember him though."  The kid looked at the young woman. 
"The guy who wore the uniform some of the time, remember?"

The girl nodded.  "It was weird.  Sometimes he went out in normal
clothes, and then he looked different.  He even walked different." 
She moved to a side window, pointing to a building down the side
street.  "He lives there, I think."

Christine frowned.  This was far too easy.  If Wharton was so damned
stealthy, why did these two kids know where he lived?

"It's on the third floor, I think."  The girl squirmed under her
boyfriend's gaze.  "Well, he's kind of cute.  And he never closed his
curtains at night."  She looked at Christine.  "He was always alone,
just staring out at the cemetery.  It was really sad."

"Sad."  She nodded.  "I think I know who it was.  Thanks."  She saw
them exchange looks.  "Don't worry.  I won't tell him how I found
out."

He no doubt wanted her to find out.  Wanted her to beard him in his
den.  Why?

She walked down the alley first, checking the back entrance.  It led
straight to the street.  No escape for him, at least not in the
daytime.  She walked back to the front, was prepared to make up a
story for the super when the door opened.

"Come up," Wharton's voice sounded tinny over the intercom.

She took a deep breath, and walked up the stairs to the third floor. 
The door was unlocked.

"Took you longer than I thought it would."  Wharton was sprawled on a
couch in the living room, within easy reach of the bright sunshine if
Christine chose to open the drapes.  From the look on his face, this
was deliberate.

Another test.  Another mindf--  She took a deep breath. She couldn't
get annoyed, needed to stay calm.  "Why are you still here if you knew
I'd come?"

"I love the time we spend together."  He smiled.  "Besides, I'll be
gone soon.  Now that you know abut this place, I'll have to find a new
place to lay low."

She nodded at the windows.  "In case you haven't noticed, it's broad
daylight."

He laughed.  "In case you haven't noticed, the hallways in this
building have no windows, and the basement has sewer access."

Sewers.  She hated sewers.

"You never go down in the sewers, do you, Christine?"

She shrugged.  "I kill enough of you up here on the surface."  

"Hardly a reason.  Your heart's not in it or you'd be down there,
sniffing out nests--if you can sniff out anything over the smell.  I
always want a good shower after being down there."  He studied her. 
"You look great, by the way.  Nearly being turned agrees with you."

She almost snapped that it was sleeping next to Jim that had agreed
with her but managed to bite the words back at the last moment. 
Wharton might not know she and Jim had made up.  That could be to
their advantage.  "Amazing what a good shower can do.  For humans or
for vampires."

"Sit down.  We haven't had much of a chance to talk since--"

"--Since you tried to kill me."  She moved closer to the windows.

He smiled, it was seductive and smooth.  It was clear he was not
afraid of her.  At all.  "Since you _let_ me bite you, Christine.  A
very important distinction, and one that isn't lost on you.  Or on
Emma, I imagine.  You did tell her?"

"Of course.  And here's an even more important point."  She pulled out
her stake.  "I stopped you."

"I was surprised at that.  You surprised me.  Very few people are
capable of that."  He patted the space next to him on the couch.  "Be
a love and come sit down."

"Not likely."  She played with the curtain cord.  One good pull and
she'd get to see just how fast he was.  It was tempting.

He laughed.  "There is true darkness in you."

"Or maybe it's just my wacky sense of humor."  She sighed.  "What do
you have to gain by all this, David?  What will you win if you kill
Emma?"

"Or if I kill you?"  His smile was no longer quite so seductive.  It
had taken on a more predatory look, more professional.  The face of
one of the best killers who had ever worked for the Council.  "And I
will kill you if you get in my way."

She did not react to the threat in his eyes, the cold smile that
seemed to grow colder as she watched.  She let her own eyes grow
dark--let him see the face of the woman who had risked everything to
take out Anacost, and that damned orb.

He thought she was dark?  He had no idea.

He stood up, began to move toward her.  She yanked the curtains open,
stood in the pooling light.  He stopped.

"You were saying?"  She sat down on the window ledge.  "Mmm, nice warm
sunshine."

"You're stuck there.  And the sun will eventually desert you."

She smiled.  "Then we'll fight."  She touched her stake lovingly. 
"And this time I won't let you talk me to death."  She rested the
stake on her knee, kept her grip on it sure.  "I'm sitting here for
your protection, not mine."

He frowned then.  Something in her eyes, she thought.  He was finally
understanding that maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought.  He
backed off, not afraid, more to regroup it seemed.

He sat down on a chair, the sunlit couch no longer a suitable choice. 
He leaned forward. "It's barbaric, Christine."

"What is?"

"Slayers."

"Yes, I imagine from your perspective it is."  She smiled
sarcastically at him.

"I don't mean that.  In this day and age, what possible sense does it
make to arm a young girl with a wooden stake and send her out against
creatures of nightmare?  Think of the resources at the disposal of the
Federation, of Starfleet.  If the Council would just come clean, would
just ask for help..."  He shook his head, his mouth set in an angry
line.

"You want me to believe that you are an advocate for the more
efficient eradication of your species?  A species that no one believes
in?"

He leaned back with a bitter laugh.  "You've seen far worse things on
your journeys through space, surely?  Would a Klingon not be a
fantastic monster if you tried to describe one?  What about a Horta
with its acidic touch?  Does a Vulcan not look like the devil
himself?"  He shook his head.  "It's all just tradition.  Tradition
and control that the watchers don't want to give up.  What does it
matter to them that girls must die so that the Council can maintain
its hold on the process."  He took a deep breath.  "The girls have no
one to speak for them...no one to fight for them.  We could. 
Together."

"Vampire to vampire."

He nodded.  "The power you would have would be amazing.  Slayer
strength and cunning coupled with the attributes of the undead.  You
would be unstoppable."

"Thanks.  I'll pass."  She smiled again, made it mocking this time. 
"I'd miss my reflection.  How would I put on my makeup?"  Or see yet
another cut or bruise or scrape from fighting.  She looked down.

"There's a thriving underground market in ensorcelled metal.  How do
you think any vampire puts on makeup?"

"Really?"  She'd always wondered.  He smiled, and she glared at him. 
"Don't delude yourself that we're connecting here."

"Of course not."  He crossed his arms behind his head.  "Besides, I
know that's not a very strong selling point for my lifestyle."

"There aren't any selling points."

He smiled.  A silence fell between them.  He watched her with a
knowing look, as if he thought she'd say something just to break the
uncomfortable stillness in the room.

She waited him out.

He finally sighed and said, "I followed you to his place, you know. 
That foolish admiral you like so much."

She forced herself to not react.

"You didn't come out again, not by the time dawn threatened.  I take
it you two made up?"  He did not look happy about that fact.  Then his
expression lightened.  "But not all the way.  Not the way you want." 
He smirked at her.  "Honor is a bitch, isn't it?"

She shrugged.

He smiled, then seemed to shake off whatever emotion he was feeling. 
"No matter.  You have no doubt been ordered by Emma to stay out of
this."

"You know I won't do that."

"And so does she.  I imagine she is panicking now.  Can you imagine
how worried she must be about what would happen if a Slayer as damaged
as you are were to be turned?"  He saw her slight reaction and smiled.
 "Oh, she'll couch it in terms of caring about you, keeping you safe
and out of all this.  But in the long run, she will only be concerned
with protecting her own kind.  Watchers."

"You're wrong."  Christine winced; she had just sounded like a hurt
child.  "You're wrong," she said again, this time in a firmer tone.

"Am I?  I imagine Silver's on his way even now with a team of my
former colleagues."  He grinned at her, the look taunting.  "Why
haven't they asked for your help?  You're the slayer, Christine.  The
one who survived a Gotterdammerung, and all those foolish to-the-death
challenges you engaged in before Spike rescued you from yourself.  Oh
yes, news like that does travel."

She started to answer but he cut her off.  "The watchers don't trust
you.  They don't think you can handle this.  They don't think you're
strong enough to take me down.  Or stable enough."  He stood up, began
to move to the door.  "They're wrong.  And their lack of faith in you
will be their undoing."

"David, I can't let you go."

He smiled as if she had just declared her undying love.  "I know that.
 You know that.  Why don't they know that?  Ask yourself that, my
dear."  He blew her a kiss and turned for the door.

She let the stake fly, a sharp overhand throw, headed straight for his
back.  It was a perfect throw, but instead of impaling him, it bounced
off and fell to the floor.

He clucked his tongue at her as he turned.  "Body armor, Christine. 
Unlike you, I believe in modern technology."  He kicked the stake away
from them both, toward the bedroom.  "I've left you a little present. 
One of the advance guard.  I bet you didn't even know they were here,
did you?  This one was following you.  Until I ran into him last night
on my way home.  Eating him lifted my spirits considerably after you
rejected me and ran off to another man."  He grinned at her, his tone
still light-hearted, almost teasing.

She walked over to pick up the stake.  Then looked into the bedroom. 
A man lay on the bed, drained, his eyes still open, staring wildly. 
It didn't look as if the bite had felt good to him.

"Surely, you sensed him following you?"  Wharton's breath blew past
her ear.  Cool, like Spike's had been.

She'd had to get used to that.

"You would have felt it here.  An itchy feeling."  His hand touched
her between the shoulder blades.

She whirled, aimed the stake for his neck, but he'd already jumped
back.  He kicked at her, and she met the blow, following the movement
instead of trying to stop him.  It gave her an opening to kick out at
him.  She made contact, kicked him out of the bedroom.  He hit the
floor, turned the impact into a backward roll and was back on his
feet.

They circled; she watched his eyes, trying to read what he would do. 
His hand came up and she ignored it, met the real threat which was a
vicious flying kick that would have caught her in the spine if she'd
tried to dodge his feint.  Instead, she grabbed his leg, twisting,
using his momentum to help her throw him down, her stake slashing,
hitting his neck, but only enough to graze him, not to stab deep.  He
rolled before she could try again with the stake, throwing her off him
and coming up.

This time with a weapon in this hand.  

"It's much like your phaser, my dear.  It's set to stun.  If you want
me to turn you now, attack me again."

She froze.  

He shook his head.  "You see how quickly our little dance was stopped?
 With this?  Just one piece of an amazing arsenal the Council could
use if they wanted to.  Instead they'd rather carve stakes."  He
backed away.  "They'd rather you and your kind die than admit they are
obsolete.  That their methods are laughable."

"David, maybe you're right.  But killing them isn't the way to make
them listen."

"What makes you think I want them to listen?"

She frowned.  

"I don't plan to kill a few of them; I plan to kill all of them and
take over the Council.  I'll bring it up to the twenty-third century. 
And you could help me.  Think about it."  He started to walk away and
saw her tense.  "So help me, Christine.  Make a move and I will turn
you."

She forced herself to relax.

"Good.  I'd rather have you want it."  He gave her an oddly-tender
smile then turned and walked out of the apartment.  She could hear his
footsteps echoing down the hallway, unhurried, confident.

All that was missing was mocking laughter.

She walked back into the bedroom, rifled through the dead man's
clothing, trying to find anything that might tell her what the Council
was up to.  He was carrying a small personal data padd.  It had a
picture of her on it, information on her usual haunts, the places she
tended to patrol, her friends and associates.

He had been following her.  Had Emma known?  Had she provided the
information?

Christine put the padd in her pocket.  Let them think David had stolen
it.  Then she commed Silver.  He no doubt had a clean-up team with him
in addition to his hired killers.  Let them deal with it.  She got the
usual run around, left the message and hung up.

They wanted her out?  They could think again.  She locked the door
behind her when she left, knowing it would only slow them down for a
moment.  But breaking in would still be an annoyance.

Sometimes you had to make your own fun.

End part 1 of 3

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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