A/N: For those who asked, definitely Spuffy. Like I'd write anything but. Hehehe.
Chapter Two
The Garden of Good And Evil
Buffy was gone.
There was nothing but that knowledge. Riley had thrown open the door to her bedroom and found it empty. The bed was unmade, the window was open, and she was gone.
Buffy Summers was one of the least conventional Slayers to have ever been selected by the calling, and everyone that knew her knew that. Her methods were innovative and oftentimes shrouded in misgiving for their simplistic nature. Too frequently she ran off by herself to fulfill some task, kill some demon, and satisfy her sacred duty. She didn’t wait for others if she felt she didn’t have time; time and time again, she didn’t even mention where she was going or why. It was the way she worked. Granted, those weren’t entirely consistent with the person she was becoming—with a boyfriend who could watch her back while easily facing the forces of darkness—but Buffy did as Buffy thought she should. Her absence that morning was strange but didn’t really surprise anyone.
Such was Buffy.
Only today was different, because there was a vampire in town that needed absolutely no introduction. A vampire immortalized in time. A vampire that had inspired generations of folklore, novels, films, and ghost stories. A vampire that actually existed—something that the Slayer herself hadn’t known until the night before.
It was even more disconcerting when Riley discovered that Joyce Summers had mistakenly invited a pale foreigner into her home. That was all that the Slayer’s boyfriend needed to hear. Buffy was gone and Dracula had an all-access pass to her house.
Seemed like Spike had been right after all.
He hated it when Spike was right.
“I had no idea,” his girlfriend’s mother was saying frantically. He was so far placed he nearly didn’t hear her. “I…oh God, where would he have taken her?”
“I don’t know,” Riley replied, pivoting sharply, his face unreadable. “But I’ll find her, Joyce. I promise.”
A task easier said than done. There was no Initiative anymore. No place to start. Nothing but intuition, and a held breath that he was doing the right thing.
He had to go to Giles, then. He had to get on this.
From the way the Slayer had been going on about him last night, Riley couldn’t imagine which scenario he hated more. The vampire had Buffy, or Buffy was with the vampire.
Buffy who had a history with vampires.
Buffy who might not be a captive as much as she was a willing guest.
God, he hoped not.
*~*~*
“Well, I think we have Dracula factoids,” Willow said, glancing up. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing Giles’s house so vacant, but Buffy and Riley’s absence wasn’t so conspicuous. Her friend hadn’t exactly been coy the night before when she invited her boyfriend over; and from what she knew of their sex-life, the provocation had likely not gone refused for long.
“Like any of that’s enough to fight the dark master,” Xander retorted insolently, munching on a donut.
Giles and the redhead paused and looked at him strangely.
“…bator.”
The Watcher’s eyes shifted to her, and he looked more than a little irritated. She merely grinned. “A lot of it we already knew,” she said. “Turn-offs: wood, fire, crosses, garlic. Turn-ons: nice duds, minions, long, slow bites that last for days…” She cleared her throat. “If you…you know…like that sort’ve thing. Which I don’t.”
“Because you’re into girls now,” Xander said.
“Yes.”
Giles flushed and removed his glasses. “Right,” he retorted.
The quiet of the room crashed with the erratic swing of the front door, and Willow’s preconceived notion of her friend’s previous nocturnal activities dissipated instantly. Riley was there. Riley was there and Buffy wasn’t.
A spool of dread gathered her insides. Something was wrong.
“Oh,” the Watcher said in greeting. “Hello.”
“Buffy’s gone.”
The room froze.
“What?” Willow demanded. “What do you mean, Buffy’s gone?”
“Joyce invited Dracula into the house last night, and now Buffy’s gone.” Riley shook his head. “He took her somewhere, I know it.”
Giles frowned, paling. “Are you…how can you be sure?”
“Joyce invited him into the house! He’s a vampire, she’s a slayer. She was all…gushing for him last night, wasn’t she? In that…” He released a deep breath. “Buffy…after she saw him, she was different. I can’t even…”
“Buffy would never have just gonewith Dracula,” Willow protested, frowning. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Well, if Dracula’s objective was to kill her, he could’ve done it last night and just left her in her bed. He didn’t. She’s gone. She didn’t tell anyone here, did she?” Silence was his answer. “I didn’t think so. She’s with him…and we don’t know…what he’s doing to her—”
The Watcher’s frown deepened. “I don’t believe Dracula is the sort to do anything to any of his victims, aside turn them into…” The room stilled uncomfortably at that, and he did not feel the need to drive the point home with words. “But everything we have on him suggests that he prefers the more traditional turnings. If that’s true, then she might not be in any actual danger right now.”
A worried look crossed Willow’s face. “Traditional turnings?”
He nodded. “Well, your own research says as much,” he replied, indicating the open book in her lap.
The Witch’s eyes widened and she glanced down. “Oh right. Ummm, yeah, Dracula’s objective is different from other vampires. He’ll kill just to feed, but he’d rather have a connection with his victims…especially victims he sees as high-profile. Victims like…well, Buffy, in this case. He even has mental powers to draw them in.”
“So he might’ve thralled Buffy into going with him?” Riley demanded.
“Yeah. If she…yeah. He also has mental powers, so he could’ve put some cosmic whammy on her to make her more compliant.” The look on the redhead’s face grew increasingly worried as her eyes scanned the text before her. “Giles, this isn’t good. The ending result is always the same. He seduces his victims, but it’s always to make them a vampire. With Buffy’s case…”
“He wants her,” Riley snapped decisively.
Xander shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I think you're drawing a lot of crazy conclusions about the unholy prince.”
The room paused again and stared.
“…bator.”
Giles’s eyes narrowed. “Xander…is there something you’re not telling us?”
Harris drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. “Nope. Nothing. Nothing that I can think of. Certainly nothing concerning the supremely spooky dark master.”
Willow released a long sigh. “He’s under Dracula’s thrall, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Xander recoiled at that. “No! That—that’s ridiculous, is what that is. The evil lord could’ve used anyone! Why would he, in his infinite wisdom, select me?” A forced, disbelieving laugh sputtered through his lips. “That’s just silly…that is.”
Riley’s eyes darkened and he stalked forward dangerously. “Where did he take her?” he demanded. “What do you know? Talk.”
The other man’s hands came up neutrally. “I know nothing!”
“You’re under Dracula’s thrall and you don’t know anything? Right.”
“Not what you’re talking about, no!” Xander retorted indignantly. “His Excellent Creepiness told me he wanted me to take Buffy to him!” He blinked as though the words spewing from his mouth suddenly made sense, his gaze clearing. “I-I…I didn’t take Buffy to him. I really didn’t.”
Giles’s expression grew even more troubled. “Dracula placed you under his power for the purpose of obtaining Buffy, but why…” There was just no part of this that made sense. “Perhaps his intention was to set us apart. He came to Sunnydale for the Slayer. According to what she said last night, he had heard enough of her to call her by name. He said she was a legend among the undead…it’s very possible that he knows about us. That he is employing the same technique that Adam attempted last year in separating us so that we’re too jumbled to find her before—”
“He turns her,” Willow concluded, her eyes wide. “Oh God, we have to do something.”
“Something,” Riley muttered blankly. “Yeah, something.”
The Watcher’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I went to see Spike last night. Gather up some information on Sunnydale’s newest resident.” He paused. “Last time a Big Bad decided to split you guys up, Spike was involved, right?”
Giles and the redhead nodded.
“Then it’s feasible that Spike’s in on it, right?”
“‘In on it?’” the Watcher repeated incredulously. “What is there, exactly, to be ‘in on?’”
“If Dracula’s modus operandi is ultimately siring his victims, then—”
The older man shook his head dismissively. “Spike wouldn’t help with that,” he said. The certainty in his voice lent everyone pause.
Riley was staring at him. “How do you know?”
“Because he’s fought Slayers before and not once has he attempted to sire them. The two he killed were killed, not turned. Spike’s likely one of the few vampires that know about Slayers.”
“What do you mean?” Willow asked.
“Sired Slayers retain their souls,” Giles replied grimly. “You might call it a practical joke on part of the Powers That Be. As any vampire will boast, being a sire establishes a certain measure of power and control over their childer. Being the sire of a Slayer would make the vampire nearly invincible. It also would guarantee that every Slayer called would not strike fear into the world of the undead—instead of running from her, they would run for her…hoping to lay claim to her throat and obtain the power that being her sire would warranty. But Slayers retain their souls, and being as strong and assuredly angry as they are when they awaken, will usually not only destroy her sire and his childer, but every vampire in her path until she is stopped. If Slayers remained soulless, you can be sure that Spike would have taken advantage of that by now. Buffy sired wouldn’t be good news for any vampire in Sunnydale.”
The redhead worried a lip between her teeth. “Doesn’t Dracula know that?”
“One would think. Perhaps he doesn’t care. If we’re correct, and Buffy is with Dracula, we can assume it’s due to a mind control similar to the thrall that Xander is under.” The room eyed the carpenter warily, and he blinked once in response. “Or,” Giles continued, “it might be that Dracula hopes his influence as a sire will be too great for Buffy to resist.”
“That happens?” Riley demanded.
“Not in recorded history, no…but Dracula is a master of mind control.”
“Buffy’s the Slayer!” Willow protested. “I mean…shouldn’t she come with some…anti-mind control tags or something? Especially where vamps are concerned…it just doesn’t seem…how could this happen?”
“Erm, Buffy’s also one of the slayers in history whose close personal relationship with vampires has been problematic for the Council,” Giles replied awkwardly, avoiding Riley’s eyes. “She dated Angel and she’s allowed Spike not only to continue existing, but has been almost…protective of him in the past few months.”
“Protective?” the room echoed disbelievingly.
“Well, she hasn’t staked him, has she? Furthermore, she’s saved his life on a number of occasions. Granted, he’s done the same for us, but details like that don’t matter to the Council.”
“Don’t matter to me, either,” Riley murmured irately.
“Regardless,” the Watcher intervened sternly, “Buffy finds him valuable, and until he outright refuses to help us, it’s best to have a somewhat-ally that has an ear to the workings of the underworld. Besides…” He paused. “It might prove beneficial to pay Spike a visit with this. If Dracula does indeed have Buffy, Spike could well be the best way to get to her.”
Riley glowered at that. “The best? You think bringing in a vampire to track down a vampire is going to do us any good? A vampire that, by the way, happens to hate Buffy and everything she stands for? I have experience in slaying vampires. Maybe not a sacred calling, but I never knew that was a prerequisite.”
“You can’t honestly believe that asking Spike to help us is any more damaging than not,” Giles rebuked. “He might not want to, but he’ll do it.”
“How do you know?”
The Watcher’s expression turned grim. “I can be…persuasive.”
*~*~*
People always went a little bit crazy when a celebrity came to town.
For the past three months, the Slayer and her pals had done little to even acknowledge the existence of their resident vampire, much less pop by at all sorts of odd hours. Now, two nights running, the door to Spike’s crypt burst open, provoking the platinum blonde to his feet in nearly record speed. It was a scent he wouldn’t have associated with a nocturnal visit, but the presence of Buffy’s Watcher only went to validate his theory.
Honestly, one famous name bursts into the Hellmouth, and the bloody town goes wonky. First the Super Soldier, now Ripper Giles himself?
He couldn’t deny he was a bit disappointed. Dracula had been in town for nearly twenty-four hours and there had not yet been word from the Slayer. Was Buffy suddenly too good to go to him directly, or had she finally wised up and realized she was virtually a dictator with a staff of loyal lackeys?
Spike rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. “Welcome to the bloody jungle,” he muttered, more to himself. “Lemme guess, you need information. Bloke’s a li’l taller than me, paler, Romanian accent, an’—”
“Shut up.”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed. “Oi there, mate. You’re in my home—uninvited, I might add. Might be surprised where a li’l manners can get you.”
“I need help.”
“Well, I coulda told you that years ago.” He grinned. “’m right, though. This is about good ole Vlad.”
“Yes, Spike, your perception is truly extraordinary.” Giles glanced down. “It’s Buffy.”
The vampire exhaled a puff of smoke. “Yeh? What about her?”
“She’s missing.”
Spike’s brows perked. He knew the point had to be coming.
Giles said nothing. Just looked at him.
Point was evidently lacking.
“Yeh, and?” he demanded. “This is the Slayer, remember? Pullin’ disappearing acts is what she does best. Need I remind you ‘bout that time last October when—”
“This is different, Spike. Dracula’s involved.” He paused. “He has her.”
For no reason whatsoever, those three words struck an ugly chord. Spike froze, cigarette burning between his fingers. He didn’t know why—he couldn’t explain it, but a wave of outrage washed over him, and his eyes clouded. The idea of Dracula touching his Slayer inspired a fury the likes of which God himself would tremble in fear. Buffy was not one to be thralled into submission. It didn’t work that way—it wasn’t supposed to work that way. Not for Slayers, not for Buffy. Buffy was his. She always had been.
“Spike?”
The vampire blinked back to himself, surprised at the look on Giles’s face; even more so at the realization that he was seconds away from allowing his bumpies to emerge in a fit of rage.
Still, he couldn’t help himself. No vampire touched Buffy. If he lost her before he made her throat his chalice, it wouldn’t be to another of his kind. It wouldn’t be to a demon at all. Buffy was either his or the world’s to destroy. She died at his hand or in the apocalypse. That. Was. That.
He wisely ignored the inner voice that had been growing steadily in volume for the past few weeks. A voice he feared carried a horrible truth that he was not ready to face.
That he would never really be ready to face.
“I told Soldier Boy when he came here last night,” Spike said slowly, blowing out another stream of smoke. “Told him Vlad wouldn’t back off till he had what he wanted. I also told him to bugger off an’ watch over his honey: once the count sets his all-knowin’ mind on somethin’, he doesn’ give up.” He paused. “He nabbed her last night, din’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Was Wonder Bread there?” His kept his tone purposefully neutral. If he betrayed just how unnerved he was at Buffy’s disappearance, Rupert might suspect he had something to do with it.
He would never credit him for the other. Whatever the other was, in this regard.
Respect for thine enemy, he quoted to himself, though the words fell empty even within his cavern.
Shades of palpable frustration began leaking through the Watcher’s eyes. “Spike, we don’t have time to play around with semantics. Dracula has Buffy…who knows what he’s doing to her. Is your alliance up for sale today?” He took a breath. “And let me remind you, if it’s not, I can make it for sale.”
Spike didn’t see a sliver of wood in the old man’s hands, but he knew his Slayer had to have learned that ‘stake up the ass’ trick somewhere. “When was she last seen?” he asked.
“She was at my flat last night discussing her encounter with Dracula.”
“An’ that’s the end of it?”
“As much as I know.” The Watcher eyed him warily. Spike knew well that he had yet to quote a price. Rescuing the Slayer…what sort of dollar amount could that equate?
A few seconds passed, and Giles heaved a long, aggravated sigh. “I don’t have time to wait for you to make up your mind,” he said. “Buffy is in danger, and—”
Split second decision. No more time for considering that line dividing what he should do and what he wanted to do. It was all left to instinct. A realization down to the core—he couldn’t stand by right now. It had nothing to do with money, and everything to do with that set of values that vampires were supposed to lack. That law he had established for himself without even realizing it. Buffy was his. No vampire was going to take her from him.
“Don’ get all testy,” he retorted, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. “I’m in.”
Giles blinked his surprise. “How much—”
“We’ll talk about that later, yeah? You’re a man of principle. I don’ imagine you’ll cheat me out of a fee based on a sudden lack of desperation.”
The Watcher nodded absently. “Right. Well, Riley will be here to—”
Spike’s eyes widened. There was absolutely no way he was going to do anything or go anywhere with that stuck up wanker. If that was what the old man wanted, he had another thing coming. For this, he wanted nothing to do with the Scoobies. They could search their way; fine. He would search his way, and he would find her first. And there was no fucking way Riley Finn was going to be any part of that. “No,” he growled definitively. “I work alone.”
“We can’t—”
“I work alone or you’re on your bloody own, got it? I’m not sharin’ anythin’ with Captain Cardboard. If he’s so sodding sure he’s the man for the job, you wouldn’t’ve come here. ‘Sides, I told him everythin’ he’d need to know to find Vlad last night. Kinda stings, doesn’ it?” He sneered unpleasantly. “Had the enormous ponce listened to me, your girl would be snuggling up in her beddy-by tonight instead of enjoyin’ the company of vamps. I’m not goin’ out there with the wanker who’ll be responsible for her death if we can’t get to her in time. Don’ need you forgettin’ which one of us you need to hang from your gallows. I’m goin’ alone.”
Giles held his eyes for a long moment. “All right.”
“What?”
“All right. You’re right. Pairing you up with Riley for this would only incite more chaos than resolution.” He paused. “If you do find Buffy…if you bring her back to us…”
His voice trailed off, taking the rest of the sentence with it.
Imagining being indebted to a vampire wasn’t easy for those trained to hate them.
“I’ll bring her back, Rupert,” Spike replied softly. “Save the rest for then.”
The Watcher looked surprisingly grateful at that, and the vampire couldn’t blame him. It gave them both time to contemplate the invisible line that had been crossed. Their private Rubicon.
But he wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t. All he could think about was the Slayer. His Slayer.
And how to get her back.
To be continued in Chapter Three: To Conquer Death…
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