PART: 2/10

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: None. AU. Lindsey still works for Wolfram and Hart and Buffy is dead. Very dead. I don’t have an expensive actress, with two years on her contract so I don’t care.

Chapter 2 Halley Dillinger arrived for work promptly at nine. She entered the laboratory where, for the last eighteen months, she had been creating the most amazing things. These things were still science fiction fantasies for most people. She hung her tan rain mac in her locker and got out her white coveralls. As she had every morning, Halley went through the decontamination ritual and only then entered the laboratory itself.

She said good morning and looked briefly at some of the ongoing experiments. Smiling and nodding to her staff, she made her way to the door at the far end of the room, and entered her swipe card and personal security number.

She looked at the array of scientific equipment arranged on the bench in front of her. It was strange, in most films this apparatus resembled a still, and each flask would be filled with a different coloured liquid. That was TV rubbish. All these liquids were clear and the work was slow and methodical. She opened her notebook and began to scribble.

She felt more like an artist sometimes than a scientist. Creating not experimenting. The chemicals were her oils and life itself was her canvas. “Life didn’t imitate art,” she thought, “It was art. Simple, beautiful…” A small noise roused her from her reverie and she looked up to see her inspiration framed behind plate glass above her head. Lindsey McDonald. He smiled at her and there was laughter behind his eyes. “Life is art.” She repeated in her head, smiling back.

His dark hair was tidy but his jacket hung loosely from his shoulders. He said something to the balding man next to him and the gentleman, in turn, addressed Halley through the internal microphone.

“Good morning Dr. Dillinger. I take it you have something to show us. Is it ready?”

“Yes. If I may, I’ll talk you through the procedure.” She pressed a few buttons and a robotic arm, raised a large Pyrex demijohn, from a stainless steel vat. “What we have here is the result of uniting genetic sample 459 with genetic sample 626. In the past we have had a number of aborted foetuses, due to the creation of lethal genes but this combination has proved to be the most stable.” She spoke with her back to the window. Demon genetics was quite complicated enough without the added distraction of her lover, making her palms sweat and her pulse race.

“Nevertheless,” She continued, “We had to insert the anti clone of the demonic gene epsilon 7 into the DNA strand in order for cell division to occur.”

“How old is the baby?” Asked Lindsey.

“Sixteen weeks and it’s not a baby. It’s an embryo or more correctly spawn.” He would be asking the gender next. She was sure he just did it to fluster her.

“I am now going to add two drops of one molar trans dexta hydroxate, into the amniotic fluid.” She extracted the precious liquid from a test tube in the rack in front of her, and placed two drops into the fluid that surrounded the baby. “Shit! Embryo. Damn!! Spawn.” She thought. He had her at it now. Though if anyone had the right to call them babies it was she. They were her babies, her creations.

The embryo began to wriggle slightly and kicked once or twice in the solution. “And as you can see, quickening has occurred and the soul has entered the child.” She looked up quickly to see if he had noticed the slip, but he was still smiling at her.

Lindsey turned to his boss and said, “Do you really think she’s done it?”

“Created a soul from distilled essences? Yes, I think she’s done it and think, if we can give the soulless a soul then we can also take one or more. Think of the implications of that for Special Projects or even for our own operatives. Do you need yours?”

He was shocked for a moment as Reed continued, “Many would say you’ve already sold it, would it be such a problem to lose it altogether? We are lawyers. We don’t require souls. We don’t take part in life, we observe it and profit from its excesses. Without a soul you could live forever. It’s the soul that is marked and damaged by life. Without it we are free. Think about it.”

Lindsey wasn’t so sure. He had worked for the company for a long time, had done well and risen fast. It was true he could be ruthless in getting what he wanted, but if the price was his mortal soul? He wanted to be the best and that meant not being weak with those around him, even those he loved. Had he fallen for the soft-spoken Halley Dillinger? He remembered the evening they had met. He didn’t treat her like a scientist; he treated her like a woman. With her, he could be courteous to a fault, old fashioned and self-effacing. Love was a weakness he could probably do without. Affection could bring him down. Maybe he should have a soulectomy. Hal was beautiful and smart, and he felt absolutely sure that he needed his soul to love her.