| Summer Series 2002: The Journey of the Fool Story the 16th ~ The Tower By Kuzibah |
| Disclaimer: Spike is not mine, more's the pity. Spoilers: For "Grave." Archive- Please email request. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* ~ New York City It had been a few years since Spike had been to New York; the personality of the place had changed, although it was hard to say exactly how. It had suffered, but as the philosopher said, that which does not kill me makes me stronger. There was a cool night breeze blowing through the street, and it caressed Spike�s face like a promise. Eventually, autumn would come. Eventually, this too-hot season, like a fever of the earth, would end. Spike rubbed the cuff of his shirt between his fingers. The shirt he�d gotten in Africa had worn through the elbows at last, and he had splurged on this one. It was a kind of dark blue velvet, and the softness of it under his fingertips was a reminder of comfort. He arrived at the back door of a butcher he�d made arrangements with earlier in the day and rapped loudly. In the darkness behind him he heard a small whimper. He turned to see what it was, but the butcher�s door opened, drawing his attention. �Yeah,� said a man in a leather apron. �I spoke to Carlo this afternoon�� Spike began. �Wait here.� After he�d gone, Spike heard the whimper again, and a whispered �help me.� He peered into the darkness, catching a flash of pale skin. Another vampire. �What do you want?� �Blood. Please.� A man Spike took to be Carlo came to the door. �How much?� Mentally, Spike doubled his order. �Twelve pints?� �Forty bucks,� Carlo said, and Spike handed him two twenties. The man retreated into the shop again, and Spike tried to get a look at his mysterious companion, to no avail. �Here you go,� Carlo said, passing Spike a cardboard carton with six quart containers, all heat-sealed with cellophane on top. God bless the U.S.A., Spike thought. As soon as the door was closed, the vampire in the dark came closer, and Spike drew a breath of shock. Anyone who knew anything about vampires knew they usually healed very quickly, but that was a bit of a simplification. A bone carefully re-aligned, or a wound that was bound properly would heal perfectly, but an injury left alone would heal as it had broken, twisted and deformed. That�s why vampires lived in nests, so there would be someone around to care for them, to see that they wouldn�t be crippled by an injury. Clearly, this other vampire was alone, and had suffered some terrible injury. The entire left side of its body had been smashed and left that way. It was a wonder the creature could walk. �What happened to you?� Spike said. �Train,� the other vampire answered, then beckoned with its good hand to an open manhole. �Come this way.� Spike followed him down, balancing the box on one shoulder. The broken vampire held out his hand, begging for food, and Spike opened one container and handed it to him. �Where is your Sire?� Spike said. The other vampire blinked stupidly, so Spike elaborated. �The vampire that made you?� �I don�t know,� the other vampire said. �I was at a party. We had some grass, then this girl started biting me. I wake up two days later undead.� He finished the blood and held out a hand for more. �You can help me, though,� he said, an unpleasant whine in his voice. �I�ve learned about the vampires in New York. Do you need minions? Fix me, and I�ll make all the minions you want.� Spike opened a container for himself and started drinking. �The last thing I need are minions, mate,� he said. �Prey, then,� the crippled vampire went on, sounding a little desperate. �I can show you where the pickings are ripest.� He gave a hysterical little giggle. �Did you know there is a pack of runaway children right here in Manhattan? They�re living in one of the empty buildings, bold as streetlamps.� Spike said nothing, so the other went on. �Even I�ve managed to grab a few. It would be nothing for you. Better than cow any day, I can tell you that�� In a movement too fast for the human eye to follow, too fast even for most young vampires, Spike was across the chamber, his arm around the other�s neck. With a jerk, he�d pulled the broken one�s head clean off, popped like a dandelion. In a moment, it was only so much glittering dust. Spike brushed his hands together. After he�d drunk the rest of the blood, slowly so his insides wouldn�t seize too badly, he climbed back up to the street again. It was just past midnight, and the streets were eerily free of the sound of traffic. A few blocks off a church bell tolled slowly, a deep resonant note chiming over and over. Spike walked, passing walls covered with pictures, fences festooned with ribbons and flowers. He looked into faces illuminated by candle flames, some sad, some defiant, some shining with hope. He heard a man�s voice, somewhere in one of the rooms above the street, singing �Were You There?� An old woman touched his wrist. �God bless you, child,� she said, and then she was walking on. In his hotel room, later, Spike washed the dust from his hands until his skin was rubbed raw, and drops of blood ran into the drain. ~:~:~:~:~ Notes: [From my Tarot meditation notes, written in the late 1980s, when I was designing a new deck, and meditating on the meaning of each card before drawing the design.] Key 16- The Tower Description: a stone tower, like a castle or fortress, is struck by lightning from a clear sky. It is clear the tower will collapse from the strike. The lightning is the same and the opposite of the illuminating light of the Hermit. Meaning: Destruction, devastation, a way of life collapses, unforeseen catastrophe, conflict. But in the wake of destruction, there is insight and enlightenment. You can choose the high road. A new way can grow out of the ashes of the old if you are determined and strong. ~:~:~:~:~ When I was charting the series and saw the �The Tower� would post on September 10th, I knew I must address the events of last year that have thrown their shadows over this country and the world. That the word �tower� means something different today in our minds than it meant last Sept. 10th, and that the meaning of The Tower card ties so closely to the events of Sept. 11th was too great a coincidence to ignore. I am not entirely comfortable with addressing such weighty and powerful real-life events in the generally ephemeral medium of fanfiction. And yet, it is Sept. 10th, and the next card is The Tower. The images of the Tarot have always resonated very strongly in me. My mother taught me the cards as a child, and I drew my first deck at age 12. Having committed to this fiction series, and committed to an examination of good, evil, and the nature of the soul through a fictional character who, despite my best efforts to resist, has touched something basic within me, I have done my best to do justice to the events, and to the honored dead. It was not my intention to make light of Sept. 11th in any way, or to exploit it as a fictional device, and I hope those whose lives were personally affected take this story in the spirit it was written. God bless you all. Go on to the next part - The Star Main Menu ~ Return to Summer Series 2002 Menu |