Leverage
Title: Leverage
Prompt: Uh…Mortifex?
Rating: M
Setting: Season Seven. Chosen has a different ending entirely.
A/N: My version of Mortifex is not really evil, just a little misunderstood. Also, it occurs to me at the last minute that the final section of this fic could be a little gross thought inspiring. I feel like I should state clearly that despite what it looks like, Mortifex is a necromancer, not a necro-romancer. And there is possibly, definitely more actual Spuffiness in the next bit.
Leverage
“I love you.”
“No, you don't. But thanks for saying it…Now go!”
If his wife was here, Mortifex knew she would no doubt see some great beauty in this moment. Her eyes would widen with delight, she’d coo at the glow surrounding the Slayer and the vampire, and then press a hand to her heart in an overly dramatic fashion.
He could almost imagine her sigh of absolute contentment. “Do you see it, my heart? See what sacrifices a man will make for love?”
Of course Adrienne was not here, and without her presence, all Mortifex could only see was death.
He rubbed at his eyes wearily and when he gazed back into his enchanted mirror the Slayer was gone. The vampire stood alone, the Turok-Han were almost utterly decimated, and rock by rock the Hellmouth was collapsing in on itself. He barely had time to take it all in before his mother’s voice rang out from behind him.
“He’s destroying everything we’ve worked for Morty. You have to stop him.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he mumbled almost (but not quite) apologetically.
“Yes you can.” She was glaring at him now, anger dancing in her eyes. “The vampire is dead, and you control the dead. The destruction of our army isn’t part of our plan!”
“Not part of your plan, at any rate.”
His mother blinked incredulously as realisation finally set in. “You’re… you’re double-crossing me?”
“Why of course I am Mother, and I must say I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to realise it. In a moment your Turok-Han will be nothing but dust, the Slayer will take care of what remains of your Bringers, and I’ll do absolutely nothing within my power to stop them.”
“Mortifex you fool! You’d choose to align yourself with the Slayer?”
“I choose to align myself with those who best serve my interests. That was you, and now it’s her.”
The motherly façade was instantly dropped. The First Evil raged, howled, and then oddly enough, began to laugh. It doubled in on itself and stood before him as the Slayer.
“Gotta say I’m kinda disappointed in you Morty. You could have had the whole world.”
“Well yes, but I don’t actually need the whole world. All I need is the Hellmouth.”
“Yeah, well good luck with all that.” Mortifex’s brow creased in confusion at the flippancy in The First’s borrowed voice. “In case you missed the big moment, a whole army of Slayer’s just got itself magically awoken. You think they’re going to sit around and let you have the Hellmouth?”
The First wiggled its fingers in a mocking goodbye and smiled. “Not that there’s going to be much left of it when he’s done…”
Back in the mirror, the vampire was still laughing, and even from miles away Mortifex could feel the earth begin to shake. No doubt The First would be back, eventually, but for now there were more pressing problems to attend to. His grand plan hadn’t made allowances for an army of Slayers.
Unless…
“I wanna see how it ends.”
Mortifex studied the vampire thoughtfully.
“Not very well for you I’m afraid.”
§
“I love you.”
The look in her eyes when she’d said those words- that was what Spike was holding onto. The pain grew from a mildly annoying sting to a full force raging burn, and something that had nothing to do with the bling around his neck ignited in his heart.
‘I think she bloody well meant it!’
Naturally there was nothing to do now but laugh, and then finally the pain was gone.
§
“I don’t understand. Who did this?”
“Spike.”
§
When Spike woke (an oddity itself after the fair certainty of being burnt to a crisp), he was lying in the middle of a very large and comfortable bed. The room around him was completely white, he wasn’t in any pain, and the aftertaste of a pint of finest lingered at the back of his mouth. While he suspected hell had many torments on offer, this couldn’t possibly be one of them, and that left only one other explanation for his current predicament.
“Suppose there’s been some monumental cock-up at the sorting office then?”
The answer, when it eventually came, was voiced gently and from very far away. “You’ve done well William. The First is gone, and it’s time to rest now. You’ll need your strength for what’s to come.”
“What’s to… hang on.” Spike sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. “I’m not taking orders from voices in my head.”
There was an audible sigh and with a little pop, a homely looking man appeared in the centre of the room.
“Who’re you?”
“I’m the one who saved you.” He stood there smiling pleasantly and looking every bit the poster boy for something Totally Wholesome and Good. Which only made it blatantly obvious to Spike that he was clearly ridiculously evil.
“I had hoped to keep the illusion of divinity up for a little longer,” he continued jovially. “But not to worry. There’s someone important I’d like you to meet.” He opened up a door, and an ethereal beauty glided into the room. “This is my wife Adrienne. She’s incredibly lovely isn’t she?”
She was, Spike reasoned, but at the same time she was also incredibly dead.
“I know she’ll come back to me one day…but you wouldn’t believe the power required keeping her shell the way it was. It’s a gargantuan effort really, but luckily I now have a Hellmouth to feast on. Which is where you come in.”
Spike tried to back away, but his feet steadfastly refused to cooperate. Sodding necromancers.
“Look- been lovely meeting the missus and all, but I best be off now. Rather not stay and be your plaything if it’s all the same.”
“Oh you’d never be a mere plaything William. The vampire the Slayer loves is far too important for that. You’re going to be my leverage.”