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Chapter 7

Buffy closed the leather bound volume – the diary of one of the watchers who had apparently broken into the Order’s intimate circle – rubbing her eyes wearily.  After finding the map, she’d discarded the journal thinking that it had yielded all of the information on the sect possible.  But, Spike had been relentless, and after alternating between a few other tomes scattered about on top of the table, she’d made her way back to this one. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like reading the personal entries of a man probably long dead.  Not really.  His words actually drew her in, the writing style easy to read and far from boring.  It was just that…since nothing seemed to pertain to the Order, she couldn’t remain focused on it right now. 

She leaned back in her chair, eyes roving over the figure sprawled on the bed.  The sheet pulled haphazardly over his hips covering, but in no way hiding, the semi-hard cock lying passively against his thigh.  The Slayer turned away from the enticing picture he made before she became too distracted.  She stretched in her chair to get more comfortable before she opened the journal once more, and ended up displacing it from her lap. 

Smiling slightly at the tongue-lashing she no doubt would have received if her watcher had been present, Buffy leaned over the arm of the chair to retrieve the misplaced book.  Frowning slightly when she noticed a worn, folded piece of paper.  Picking it and the journal up, she placed the book on the table, distracted as her eyes stared down at the yellowing paper in her hand. 

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Buffy opened the edges, the slight crinkling as the note slowly revealed its secrets, causing her body to tighten in anticipation.  Hazel eyes quickly scanned the document – a letter addressed to the journal’s owner by another watcher – before she settled in to read.  As the words seemed to jump out at her, each line slamming into her gut with the force of a battering ram, tears filled her eyes. 

Halfway through the letter, the water swimming in her eyes spilled over.  She bit her lip to keep from shouting her anger, the Slayer in her wanting nothing more than to rage against them.  Them.  The Council.  Those self-righteous assholes that would put this girl, this Slayer, through such trials.  As she continued to read, hands shaking slightly at her building emotions, she realized it wasn’t just this one.  It was all of them. 

Any Slayer that was fortunate enough to reach their eighteenth birthday. 

Buffy thought of her own watcher.  Giles.  The soft-spoken British man whose looks suggested that he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, harm a fly.  Apparently, they’d been deceiving. 

Her rage at his deception and eventual betrayal consumed her, and she’d risen and snatched the phone off the hook, placing the international call before she could regret the impetuousness that may give away their position. 

But, she had to know. 

Know if her watcher knew about this Cruciamentum. Or if he was just as blissfully unaware as she had been. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The shrill ringing of the phone woke him from a sound sleep.  Not that he’d slept much in these last few weeks, having spent many sleepless nights poring over books, aiding his absent Slayer in the only way he knew how…by searching for a means to destroy the Order of Taraka.  Thus enabling her to come home where she belonged.  Back among her friends and family. 

Ever since his Slayer had disappeared without a trace, he’d tapped into every resource he possessed, called in every favor owed him, all in an attempt to ferret out her location.  To tell her that he was trying to help her deal with the assassins. 

But it had been all in vain.  No one, and he could only assume the Order was included in there somewhere, had seen neither hide nor hair of the blond-headed Slayer.  It was like she’d just disappeared.  Had simply vanished without a trace. 

However, about a week ago, Giles had learned through one of his associates that someone had broken into the Council’s headquarters and stolen several volumes containing what limited information they had on the Order of Taraka, and the watcher couldn’t help but smile at his Slayer’s ingenuity.  He was ashamed to admit it, but he would have loved to have seen the expression on Quentin Travers’ face when he realized that his supposed fortress had been robbed.  Giles, however, said nothing of his theory that it had been Buffy that had broken into their stronghold.  No…better to let his Slayer have every advantage she could. 

Besides, with her feisty attitude and lack of anything structured when it came to her slaying, the senior members would never believe that Buffy would have the discipline to pull off something of that magnitude – let alone employ the patience required to conduct the research that would be necessary upon obtaining the books. 

“Hello!” his terse reply sounded into the phone, belying the fact that he’d just been woken from a sound sleep.  His fuzzy brain took note of the delay, his mind quickly shifting gears as he recognized the characteristics of an international call. 

“Hello?” he asked, this time more softly.  “Buffy?  Buffy, is that you?” 

He heard breathing, harsh breathing, and wondered if maybe it was a crank caller trying to get a cheap thrill. Giles was just about to hang up the phone when he heard her voice.  Only… 

“Tell me you didn’t know,” she ground out into the phone, and Giles was left in no doubt how angry she seemed.  Confused, he asked, “Know what?  Umm…I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.” 

“Let me refresh your memory then, shall I?  Say, a little matter of my eighteenth birthday.  A trial of sorts…ringing any bells, Giles?” 

The silence on the line was deafening, and the Slayer had her answer.  He knew. 

Giles forced his brain to work, part of him wondering how she’d managed to find out about the Cruciamentum, the other wondering what he could say to appease his overwhelming sense of guilt at another of the Watchers’ machinations. 

“Buffy?  Buffy, are you there?” 

Silence was his only answer. 

Little did he know that his connection had been terminated by someone listening in on his line – who was even now carrying on a conversation with the missing Slayer. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

One minute Buffy was listening to the sound of her watcher’s silence that indicated his guilt, the next, another voice had intruded upon her call.  Its sinister tone carrying across the phone line and causing chills to dance along her spine. 

“Good evening, Slayer.  Or, should I say good morning?  Or maybe even good afternoon?” 

“Who the hell is this?” she practically shouted into the phone.  “Where’s Giles?”  Concern for her watcher temporarily overrode her anger at his deception, and she ground out, “So help me, if you lay one hand on his head—”  She paced back an forth in the limited space the phone cord allowed. 

“Tsk. Tsk.  Slayer.  It’s not your friends and family we want.  It’s you.  And the vampire...  Tell me, Slayer…have you seen him?” 

“As if I’d be caught anywhere around the evil undead,” she snarked into the phone, finally sitting down on the mattress and gripping Spike’s hand.  “Slayer here, remember?” 

Spike’s eyes opened when her hand wrapped around his – hard enough to crush a few bones.  He was just about to turn towards her and blast her for it when he noticed her talking on the phone.  He arched his brow enquiringly before his smirk faded and anger took hold. 

Disjointed bits and pieces of the man’s conversation caught by his preternatural hearing. Whoever it was on the line, the bastard was playing dirty.  Using the Slayer’s mum as bait to lure her to his side. 

“…You’ve got five days, Slayer.  Or all bets are off.  Your mom, your friends, that stuffed shirt watcher of yours…” 

“Oh, I’ll be there.  Mine will be the last face you see when I strangle the life out of you,” she shouted at the assailant. 

Rather than slam the phone in the cradle to punctuate her point, she just held the receiver in her hands, staring at it as if it were something she’d never seen.  Soon, she started shaking, the adrenaline that had been rushing through her veins having nowhere to go. 

Spike sat up in bed and carefully removed the phone from her tight grasp, setting it back on the hook.  His eyes sifted over the Slayer, watching quietly as her body began to shake.  He’d have to take care of that unused energy later – either by fighting or fucking – because right now they had to get out of there.  If the Order was able to tap into the phone lines, it would just be a matter of time before they’d triangulated their location. 

He threw the sheet off, unmindful of his nudity, shoving the Slayer to her feet so he could get up. 

“Come on, pet.  We gotta get outta here.  Just a matter of time before they show up.”  He moved away from the bed to retrieve his jeans and slip them on. 

Buffy just stood there, frozen in place, unmoving but for the shivers wracking her frame. 

Spike glanced over at her, one leg shoved into his pants.  He hurriedly stepped into the other then stalked over towards her.  Gripping her shoulders, the vampire shook her, trying to break her out of her trance.  They didn’t have time for what he wanted to do, so he hauled off and punched her, sending her flying into the wall behind him. 

As expected, she came up swinging, and Spike grabbed her and held her close, effectively stilling her movements. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, luv.  Ain’t got time to give you a proper seein’ to, yeah?” he told her, tugging lightly on her hair to get her to look up at him.  “We get outta here…Hell, I’ll even let you hit me back.  But, right now…we gotta go.” 

Buffy nodded at him, hesitantly at first, then more forcefully, channeled her energy towards packing their meager belongings.  Minutes later, the two were dressed, duffle bags slung over their shoulders.  They didn’t bother to check out; they’d paid cash for their room and just left the door keys inside.  When the maid came in the morning, she’d see that they’d left and alert the front desk.  The passports they’d left behind not needed with the spares they both had.  It was probably better that way. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“I can’t believe you hit me!” 

“Bloody hell, Slayer!  Not this again.  I told you, it was jus’ a li’l love tap.” 

They walked side by side in the sewer, ignoring the smell – wasting time until the last ferry departed for Calais.  They’d decided to skip to France and take a flight from Paris, by way of Rome, back into the states. 

Just one more step to cover their tracks. 

Buffy rubbed her jaw.  “Love tap, my ass,” she muttered. 

Spike affected a mock gasp.  “Slayer! ’m shocked.  Such foul language.” 

“Fuck you, Spike.” She cursed him with a smile.  “And, I’m sooo gonna get my licks in later.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, pet.”  He flicked his tongue behind his teeth and gave her a sexy smirk, deliberately misinterpreting her words.  But Buffy being Buffy, had to get in the last word. 

“Oh, you won’t seem so eager once I’m through with you, smartass.”

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