Chapter 3: Diesel and Dust

"Wow...Sydney is a lot more...orange than I thought it would be."

The sea of red soil extended well onto the horizon, interrupted only by islands of spinifex grass and the occasional parched tree. There were no clouds in the sky to shield Spike and Daemian from the outback sun.

And yet, it was quite possibly the most beautiful place Spike had ever seen--and he'd been across the equator more than once. It was hot as hell (he had only just stepped out of the turbulent darkness of Daemian's shadow corridor, and already felt a sunburn starting to form). Yet, there was a peace here--and lurking beneath that tranquillity, an intense power. Since studying glyphs, Spike had learned a lot about magick, its vibrations, its harmonies, how it flowed through the body. This place had a very old magick indeed.

Daemian sighed and removed his sunnies, scratching his head. "Fuck me sideways; we teleported to the wrong bloody spotm Spikey."

Spike snapped out of his trance. "Are you serious?" He said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"About which thing I just said." Daemain looked around in either direction, but there was little point. It looked the same no matter where he turned. "Well, good on ya, Spike, at least you didn't blow chunks all over sacred land. You're a lot tougher than Tiger."

Spike looked out into the dust. "Oh...is this like...the outback?"

Placing his hand over his head, Daemian turned away. "What give it away, champ?"

"I guess...the deserty-ness of it all. I...uh...expected more kangaroos."

"They'll be hiding in the shade." Daemian nodded to the puddle of dark energy accumulating in his shadow. Brax (also wearing sunglasses, and a Sydney Swans jersey) handed Daemian two water bottles and a tub of sunscreen. Daemian took it and tossed it at his unwitting partner. 

"Speaking of which, you should put this on. Come on. Slip, slap, slop, Spike."

Spike glared at his new buddy, but otherwise did as he told. Truthfully, he hated the greasy sensation of sunscreen. "Why do I have to put this one? You're the one who's got the skin of a vampire."

"I'm regrettably human, Spike, and you're cruel to remind me. Pale as I am, my glyph gives me regenerative abilities, so my cells won't be affected by a bit of UV. You, however..."

"Okay, I haven't tanned in awhile, gee." Spike was glad for it though, even if it did make his skin feel oily. "What about you, Brax?"

"I am from Gehenna--we have far more harsh environments than your mere outback. My kind have no need for a meager SPF."

Spike nodded. "Then why the shirt?"

"I am a fan of sporting games. I wanted to show my support." The giant, bestial demon looked towards his mortal kindred. "You teleported us to the wrong part of Australia."

"I'm plenty aware, mate."

"But you can just teleport us on to Sydney, right?" Spike said cheerfully. 

Silence followed. Daemian looked away.

"...Right?"

"It's not the simple. Channelling a dark corridor takes a lot of magick, and we just jettisoned ourselves from the other hemisphere. I'm gonna need a recharge of like...a few hours."

"...Oh."

Daemian bit his lip. "I'm usually good at zeroing in on high population areas, but I guess there's too many cities here that I got confused."

Brax growled. "This country is 88% desert."

"Okay, well..." Daemian groaned. "Alright. Smoko." Kickin dirt with his steel toed boots, Daemian removed a cigarette and lit up. "Fuck me gently with a rusty spoon...this sucks."

"What's wrong?" Spike asked. Then, he smirked. "You missin' Joseph? Your miss your boyfriend."

Daemian whipped his head towards his friend and held up his fist. "I'll gut you like a trout and leave you to dingos."

"Yeah, yeah, zombie boy. Funny. I seem to remember a time when I was your boyfriend."

"It was just a bit, Spike!" Daemian turned away. He put his cigarette out on his own hand and didn't even flinch. He shoved the spent butt into his pocket. 

At least he respects the environment, Spike thought.

"You telling me you liked it?"

Blessed with fleeting insight, Spike lowered his stare. "I'm a love-starved orphan who sleeps with every hot man he comes across. You basically told me I was yours. So...you tell me, ya big putz."

"I hate that you've gotten smarter," Daemian sniffed. "Self aware Spike isn't fun like himbo Spike."

"I AM BOTH!" Spike roared. "And sorry for being a bit salty, but I'm not the one who stranded us in the middle of THE FUCKIN' OUTBACK." He breathed.

Brax, who did not like conflict, flattened his ears against his head. "Grrr...."

Unfortunately, Spike had no choice but to rely on the demoniac mage. "So..."

"Got it out of your system, did ya?" 

"Yes. But what do we do?"

Daemian pointed in a vague direction. "Start walkin'."

So, they did. Fortunately, Daemian was able to conjure shade to keep them somewhat cooled off.

Even so, as Brax helpfully pointed out, "You humans can lose a liter of moisture every thirty to sixty minutes out here."

Spike looked at the water bottle he just chugged. "Heh. Don't suppose you brought more of these?"

"Nope," Daemian said, casually. He looked around the flat expanse. "I reckon...we're somewhere between Alice Springs and Uluru." 

Spike couldn't visualize either, but sensed neither were close at hand. "In other words...middle of nowhere?"

"...Yes."

Well, nothing else to do now but walk and enjoy each other's company...as well as not to die of heat stroke under the harsh, desert sun. Three muscular figures, scrawny, gigantic, and short, traipsed through the heat shimmer.

Brax was the first one to breach the topic. "My mortal kindred...what went wrong?"

If Spike had pitched the question, he would have only gotten snark back. He sensed Brax had taken up speaking on his behalf.

Daemian eyed his companions warily, but otherwise relented. "I guess...I've just been thinking of home, lately, yeah?"

Spike screwed up his face. "You grew up here?" But before he could follow up, he noticed Brax had frozen still. "What's up, boy?"

The demon sniffed the air. "Someone is coming. There." He pointed a claw to a cloud of billowing dust coming towards them from the horizon.

Spike squinted, but it was no use. "What's that? A car."

Daemian shielded the sun from his eyes. "Yeah. Looks like a ute."

"...What the hell's a yoot?"

The utility vehicle pulled up alongside the three strangers and rolled down its window. A friendly faced, dark skinned man with a gray beard and wide-brimmed hat waved to them. "As I live and breathe. Lachlan Jago."

Daemian nervously glanced between and Brax and Spike. "Uncle...Daniel?"

"He's your uncle?" Spike asked, excited.

"We call him that. I'll explain later."

The man's smile was enough to tell Spike that they were out of the woods now (or the desert, rather). "Sight for sore eyes, yous." He threw the passenger door open. "Hop on in or crawl into the back. Just taking some supplies to the station."

Spike thought Daemian looked somehow even paler than normal. The dark magi caught his companion looking at him. "You can sit next to Uncle Daniel. Brax and I will take the bed." The demon lifted up his tag partner and placed him inside the back of the truck, before joining him (and causing the vehicle to creak).

Spike was always down to make friends--and was happy to be out of the swelter, besides. "Hi, I'm Spike."

"Welcome to Arrernte country, Spikey." Uncle Daniel began driving. Thankfully, the car had air conditioning. "You're a long way from home. That an American accent, is it?"

"Yeah. Brooklyn."

"Ah, New York!" Uncle Daniel's eyes lit up. "Always wanted to see New York. During the winter. Snowfall in Central Park."

Now proficient in picking up on the subtle energies of emotions, Spike felt drawn to Uncle Daniel's warmth. "It's amazing." It was only just that, however. Spike detected magick from him--and not a garden variety glyph either. In his time with the GSA, Spike had picked up the patterns and similarities in the signatures given off by each glyph...their 'flavors', if you will. Some, of course, were rare than others. Uncle Daniel's was new.

But Spike knew better than to pry.

"So, this one kidnap you or something?" Uncle Daniel said, avoiding a kangaroo carcass in the middle of the road. "You seem like a good bloke. What are you doing mixing with the devils, Spikey?"

Spike looked over his shoulder, through the back window. Daemian and Brax were on opposite sides of the flat bad; Daemian with his arms folded. "I'm more trouble than I look," Spike said absently. "Gee, I hope Daemian is okay."

"Oh, Lachie loves a sook, don't you worry about him Let me guess, he made a dog's breakfast of his dark corridors again and you ended up out here in the back of the beyond--yeah?"

"Yep."

"He's been trouble since he was a pup. But you can't fault the lad for it. His mom was no good. His dad, absent. We did what we could." Uncle Daniel shrugged. "I think he turned out right, don't you?"

Eventually, the ute pulled up to a compound that reminded Spike of the GSA--a humble ranch fenced in. Spike noted a few houses scattered on the compound. A group of women sat on a retaining wall, casually talking and tending to their babies. Spike noted flocks of sheep in the distance, as well as a pen full of giant, strange birds that made uneasy to look at.

"Those...are some big chickens." Spike gulped. I wouldn't want to wrestle them.

"Emus!" Uncle Daniel laughed. He parked the car outside a farmhouse. "Come on, yous." He noted the sign above the wooden archway. Brumby Station.

Spike hopped out of the truck, same time as Daemian and Brax. Spike's reluctant companion refused to make eye contact with him. Spike was fine to ignore him for now--caught up in the grandeur of the outback and the quaint little station. "It's...beautiful." 

"It's home," Uncle Daniel said, pointing a thumb towards the screen door of the farmhouse. "Spike, come on in and meet the misses." 

Daemain bristled. "Auntie Jacinda is here, yeah? If you think I'm scary..."

A strong, commanding voice came from the house. "That Lachie?"

Daemian flinched. "Yeah, it's me, Auntie."

A squat, curly haired woman with a serious face opened the door. Her complexion and affect was similar to Uncle Daniel's. "No card. No phone call." She frowned, and pointed to Spike. "And you've brought a bloody male model to the outback. You never change, you little shit." She cracked a smile. "Come and give your Auntie a hug before I slap the stupid out of you."

Daemian's self-pitying aura shattered. Spike had never seen his eyes light up like that before (well, in any other way than 'menacing'). "It's good to see you," he said, giving the woman a hug.

"And you too, big man!"

The giant demon's ears flattened against his head, and Spike thought he saw Brax's color change. "Auntie..." the demon said, bending down to embrace the small woman. It was more adorable than comical, Spike thought.

"I'll put the kettle on," the woman said, nodding to Spike. She turned to Daemian and gave him the look of death. "Make sure you take your shoes off. Oh, and let your blonde friend know the dunny's been out of sorts since...the snake incident."

Spike blinked. "The...snake incident?"

"At least it's not the spider incident," Daemian mumbled, slinking off indoors.

Spike tried very hard not to imagine the implications, and thankfully was distracted by the sudden squeal and laughter of a group of children--at least six or seven--gathering around the enormous demon.

"BRAX!" they said.

Spike bit his lip. He had never seen Brax deal with kids before. How were they not terrified.

Spike got his answer. "Hello, tiny human spawn"

"Can we ride on your shoulders?"

Brax nodded. "You may."

And soon, the enormous demon was dripping with children. He carried them off to wherever the bossy little girl on his shoulders commanded.

The interior of the Brumby's home was warm and welcoming, reminding Spike yet again of the Tamberly homestead (especially the gingham tablecloth). The New Yorker (far from home) eyed a series of beautiful canvases hanging on the walls, in an art style he had never seen before--instead of sweeping brush strokes, the painter had created the images with hundreds of individual dots and points of paint. 

Auntie Jacinda went about making tea. "How do you take your tea, Spike?"

"Uh....hot?"

The woman pursed her lips and gave Daemian a bemused glance. "Yanks. Don't tell me they microwave their water too?"

Daemian grimaced. "I'm the prince of darkness, and not even I would do something as wretched."

"Prince of Darkness!" Aunti laughed. "Not in my house you ain't. Anyways, I can't play hostess. I've got a patient, Mrs. Gregory, in the back. I'm treating her, so mind your manners, devil child."

"Mrs. Gregory from the general store?" Daemian looked over at the attractive cake on the counter, dusted with coconut. "I thought I smelled one of her lamingtons?"

"What's a lamington?" Spike asked.

"You can have a slice with the tea wen you're done," Jacinda said, ducking through an archway. "But NOT til we're done--understood, young sir?"

"Yes, Auntie."

A raspy voice came from around the corner. "That Lachlan?"

"He dropped in for a surprise," Auntie Jacinda said to the woman, just out of Spike's view. "Here. Take my arm."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Not dead yet, Auntie." A chubby, bald woman with bright eyes and red cheeks shuffled slowly through the doorway, refusing Auntie's hand. Her face was sun-worn, but her smile was beautiful, Spike thought.

"Hello Lachlan," Mrs. Gregory said to the tall man. She took the kitchen chair. "You've gotten taller somehow."

Daemian shrugged. "Nice to see you."

"Don't look so shy. You know I've forgiven you from stealing those caramel koalas from the store." 

Spike smirked. "I've never seen you so roasted before. I love it."

"Wait til we get back," Daemian shot. "You have a snapmare in the future, Spikey!"

"No rough housing in this house!" Auntie warned him.

Despite Daemian's guilt, the middle aged woman seemed keen on catching up with him. "The cancer came back," she said casually. "Bloody useless doctors out here. Your Auntie was of a mind to do something about it with her glyph."

Spike looked to the (somewhat put upon) woman at the kitchen counter. "You're a healer, Auntie?"

The woman shrugged. "It's just an experiment. I used to work for the Royal Flying Doctors as a cultural interpreter. I picked up a thing or two."

"Life glyph?" Spike asked.

"No." She nodded to a coat rack in the corner of the room. "Lachie, you and Spike will want to put on one of the lead aprons the next half hour or so."

Spike was confused, but he did as told. "Like when I get my X-rays taken at the dentist," he said, draping the heavy apron.

"That why you have such handsome teeth?" Auntie Jacinda said. "No, love, my gift is radiation."

Spike had only come across someone with that glyph before--the sinister, post-apocalyptic brute, Fallout, who White Tiger had trounced back in Vegas. "Atomos!" he said, pleased with himself that he remembered. "I read about that. But isn't that a rare glyph."

"There's a lot of old power in this land, Spike. More than just little old me." Sighing, and somewhat wistful, Auntie looked to Mrs. Gregory. "We should give you some privacy, dear. Want to come to the office?"

The fair skinned, middle aged woman shook her head. "No, not on my account. Besides, you said you had good news for me. If you can say it to me, you can say it front of them. I waive my consent."

Spike could tell Auntie Jacinda, despite her direct way of speaking, was still a professional--and uncomfortable with the request. "Yes. Well.." She handed Mrs. Gregory what looked to Spike like an x-ray or ultrasound sheet. "Looks like the tumor has reduced by more than 75%"

Mrs. Gregory wasn't an emotional woman, Spike could tell. Still, her mouth twitched at the news, and her eyes welled up. "Oh Goddess be good," she said, dabbing a corner of her eye with a kerchief. "Best news I've heard all bloody week."

Auntie was relieved. "So, in other words, treatment is going well. We'll want to proscribe you some folate to balance it out, and monitor any other cellular changes, but I think our little experiment appears to be working. Let's dose you for the day and we'll have you come back in a week."

The woman did this out of view of the men, but Daemian explained to Spike how Auntie was so proficient at her magick that she could localize her radiation. "Most folks with that glyph are kept in bubbles or shunned from society," Daemian mumbled. "It's powerful stuff. Auntie's so damn good at controlling it though that she can control the dosage. Some big wigs in Sydney want her to come have her experiment at a clinic but...Auntie doesn't care for the city."

Spike was wowed. He also suddenly remembered the car ride with Uncle Daniel, and now he was starting to wonder whether the man had magick himself. "Does Uncle Daniel have the same glyph too?"

The color suddenly drained from Daemian's face. "Why would you ask that?"

Sensing he'd put his foot in it already, Spike tried to downplay. "I've started getting better at detecting people's magick."

Before Daemian could answer him (or not). The women emerged. Auntie announced, with great joy, that it was at last time for tea and lamington.

After the ritual of dispensing tea and slices of cake was through, Spike took Daemian's cue to dig in. He took a spoonful of cake into his mouth. It was like a decadent orgy of jam, chocolate, sponge cake, and coconut. 

"Lamington is my jamington," Spike said with glee.

Daemian glared at him. "I will hurt you."

Mrs. Gregory and Auntie Jacinda were eager to ask Spike all about New York and spellbreaking and baseball (Mrs. Gregory seemed to have a fascination with Babe Ruth). Spike was happy to indulge them, mostly because he liked attention, and also to take the heat off Daemian. After a pleasant discussion over tea and cake, Auntie Jacinda ushered Mrs. Gregory out the door, sending her off with a driver named Jack.

Uncle Daniel took her place at the table, but instead of engaging Spike, he struck up conversation with his adopted son. "So, still getting beaten up in your underwear, eh?"

"Doing the beating up, Uncle." 

"And are you still seeing that Tiger fella?"

Washing dishes at the kitchen sink, Auntie Jacinda smirked knowingly. "Great set of abs, that one." She placed a cup next to a series of pretty, clay-shaped drinking glasses on the shelf. Spike thought they reminded him of the stones and colors of the outback.

Unlce Daniel pouted. "And when are you going to blush like that around me?"

"When you get a set of abs like that."

Daemian was not at all ready to broach the subject. He looked over at Spike. "While we're here, I wanted to bring something up to you."

Spike took the hint (for once). "You'd rather talk about the Chalices than your love life?"

"That's how much I want to talk about my love life, yes." He addressed the couple. "See, the guys and I...we're kind of involved with--"

"Those Aradia drongos?" Auntie Jacinda asked with a sour expression.

Both Spike and Daemian were taken aback. "Nah...yeah?"

"They came calling here around a month or so ago asking about the Chalice of Vitality and the wellsprings." 

Uncle Daniel took the baton. "Those matters were entrusted to our people ages ago. These are sacred things woven into our stories."

Daemian shot Spike another dark look. Don't ask. "So then...I take it you won't be telling us?"

Uncle Daniel was sympathetic, if not cagey. "Your intentions are pure, Lachlan....for once. But the other elders and I have spoken about this, and we think it's best these things are kept safe with us. Way we see it...if you don't know about it, the bad team don't know about it either, yeah?" 

While Spike could see the logic in that, he knew how John Henry, Lily, and Salim would probably feel on the subject. 

"I'll let you know this much," Uncle Daniel continued. "The Chalice is not in Sydney. Whatever information you have? False. And it should stay that way."

This seemed abruptly satisfying for Daemian. He shrugged. "Well, if Firebird can't get its hands on it. Spike and I have a match in Sydney anyway. We can plant some rumors. Distract Firebird while the boys get their hands on the other Chalices. My..." he choked on the word, "boyfriend, Joseph, is currently in Japan sorting out the Wellspring of Wisdom."

Spike counted on his fingers. "Will...Compassion...Voice...Wisdom...and Vitality is kept safe somewhere here in Australia. Firebird has the Chalice of Power, so that leaves Spirit?"

"Sounds right to me," Daemian said. "Uncle. Auntie. Do you reckon what Firebird wants with these bloody things?"

Auntie Jacinda thought about it for a good while. "Magick predates colonisation, but it was still foreign to the land. We have stories and songs about it, but these are considered separate matters to our faith. The Chalice and the wellspring are the bridge between those two circles, and it's not something we readily talk about with outsiders. I cannot say what Firebird hopes to achieve with the other ones, but I can tell you...they sure as hell won't be laying a finger on ours." 

Spike believed it.

"You need to be careful now," Auntie said, placing a hand on Daemian's shoulder. "World's gone funny. Danger everywhere. We can't keep you safe anymore, Lachlan."

"I can keep myself safe, Auntie." He considered brushing her hand away, on instinct, but decided against it. "But thanks. Well, I think I'm recharged. I'll fetch Brax and we can open up a corridor." He looked at Spike. "I'll try not to get us stranded in Darwin next, or worse...Hobart." He shivered.

"Wait a minute," Uncle Daniel said getting up. "I can make this easier on you two. No use messing with those weird tunnels."

Auntie Jacinda looked gravely concerned. "Daniel Brumby, don't you dare." She looked at Spike. 

The man rolled up his sleeves. "Please. It's nothing." He nodded to Spike and Daemian. "Stand back."

Confused, Spike did as he was told, and watched Uncle Daniel place his hand in front of the space between the table and the kitchen wall. A crackling, like static electricity, cut through the air--and the next thing Spike saw, there was a doorway sized square of completely different scenery hanging in the air.

Spike's jaw dropped. He stepped warily towards the 'window', which was unlike Daemian's cold, chaotic, dark tunnel. From behind, it was just the kitchen. Head on--Spike looked onto an overcast harbor with a tremendous, iron bridge.

"Sydney," Daemian sputtered. "But...your magick."

What glyph is this? Spike wondered.

Uncle Daniel winked at Spike. "Go collect your demon. Then, you better get going. I'll close it up behind you, before anybody notices. And Lachlan?"

"Yeah?"

"You've grown up. A lot."

To Be Continued