Perfect World

By CousinJean

Part Seven: Bitch In the Box

"This ... is unexpected."

Few times in his existence had Spike felt true fear. That's fear as in pure, blinding, piss-your-pants-if-you're-human terror. Strangely enough, considering that he was -- or had been until recently -- an inherently selfish being, it was usually for someone else's sake.

That last night in Prague, he had felt it. And that endless, critical half-second up on that tower... Moments when he realized he'd been overconfident; that he was outmanned, outgunned ... out-whatever, and that his cockiness would cost him everything in the world that he held dear. In these moments, he knew fear.

He was having one of those moments.

Adam stepped inside the cell. He sniffed the air, and looked at Spike. "You disabled my brother."

Spike snapped out of it. There was too much at stake to let fear slow him down. He gripped his sword. "That's one way of putting it."

Adam smiled in that smug way of his, secure in the belief that nothing could touch him. "No matter. I'll fix him."

Spike moved between Adam and Buffy. "You got any protection spells," he muttered to Tara, "now'd be a good time to use them."

She shook her head, fumbling with the gun. "I c-c-c ... I can't turn off the safety!"

Spike took it from her. "Won't work on him anyway. Get behind me. Get her up." He could hear her muttering something under her breath as she went to Buffy.

Adam made no move. He just watched, like one might watch a spider with vague fascination before growing bored and stepping on it. And this spider couldn't run for it 'cause he had to protect the flies.

"Spike?" Warren. Twerp had the nerve to sound bored. "You get the Slayer yet? What's the hold up?"

"Bit busy at the moment," Spike muttered.

Adam tilted his head to regard Spike. "You're working with them now. Curious. I did not think you would be like the other one."

Spike allowed himself a grim smile. "Y'know, I 'spect there are worse things I could be."

"Who are you talking to?" asked Warren.

Adam stepped closer to Spike and leaned down to speak in his ear. "Me."

"Oh, shit."

"You can bloody well say that again." Taking advantage of the distraction before Adam could straighten back up, Spike thrust the sword at his throat. The bugger caught it before it penetrated. Spike put all of his strength behind the blade, and for the briefest of moments the two of them reached a stale mate. "The lab!" Spike shouted at Tara. "Get in there!"

As Tara pulled Buffy to her feet, Adam grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt. He tore the sword out of Spike's hands and threw him across the room. When he slammed into the wall, his gun bounced and skidded back across the floor to Adam, who picked it up and aimed it at the girls. Spike struggled to get up, but before he could, Adam pulled the trigger. A bolt of energy jumped out of the gun, but dispersed in a field around them. Tara stopped in her tracks, visibly shaking as she struggled to support Buffy, eyes terrified yet determined. Her chanting grew louder.

Spike leapt. "Go!" he shouted as he landed on Adam's back, grabbing his neck in a strangle hold. "That's right," he growled in the bastard's ear. "I'm your problem, not them."

"Indeed." Adam threw himself backwards into the wall, crushing Spike, again and again. But Spike held on. His vision swam, but he could see the girls move through the door into the lab.

"Warren, can -- unh!" Maybe he couldn't have the wind knocked out of him, but he still needed air to talk. He got his feet up behind him and kicked off of the wall, shoving himself and Adam forward. "Can you close that other door?"

"Yeah, I th--"

"Do it!"

Adam gave up trying to knock him loose. Spike fought off a wave of dizziness. If he could hold on a bit longer; time this just right ...

Then Adam remembered the sword in his hand. He raised it, and turned it around toward himself. Oh, fuck, this would hurt. Adam plunged the sword into his own gut. It went clean through him and into Spike's side, stopping against his ribs.

"Bloody..." He let go of Adam at last and slumped to the floor, clutching his side as Adam pulled the sword out of his stomach without so much as a flinch. He tossed it aside and moved to stand over Spike. As he raised his arm the Polgara spike shot out of his wrist. He aimed it at Spike's head, but as he brought it down Spike rolled out of the way.

The door started to come down at last. Gritting his teeth, Spike scrambled to his feet and ran. He was going to have to dive for it. He jumped -- and a blast from that fucking useless gun hit him in midair. Stunned, he landed just short of the threshold. Adam lowered the gun and started toward him, but Tara was faster. She grabbed him by the arms and dragged him into the lab just before the door slammed shut.

Spike just lay there for a moment, twitching, until the effects of the blast wore off enough for him to speak. He opened his eyes and looked up at Tara. "Thanks."

She offered him a small smile.

"You too, Warren," he said. "Good show, Mate."

No answer.

"Warren?" Spike's arm felt like lead, but he managed to lift it and dig the communicator out of his ear. He stared at the melted lump of plastic in his hand, then sighed and let his arm go limp as he remembered Giles's "reminder."

... if Warren loses contact with you, we'll assume the worst ...

"Sorry, Ladies," he said as he struggled to sit up. "Looks like we're on our own." He felt more than a bit wobbly as Tara helped him stand.

"Y ... you're bleeding," she said, looking at his stomach.

He pressed a palm to his newest wound and then looked at his blood-stained hand. "What else is new," he muttered, and wiped it on his jeans. He glanced around, but didn't see Buffy. His chest constricted. "Where --"

"Under there." Tara pointed at the operating table. "I set her down a-and she rolled ..."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a relieved sigh, and then nodded. "Right." He scanned the room for a ladder that stood at the end of a bank of equipment. "We need to get up there." He pointed. "Then we can get out through the tunnels."

"Okay," said Tara. "Um ... how come y--"

A bang on the door cut her off. Spike gave her a gentle push toward the ladder. "Go." Another bang shook the door as he knelt to retrieve Buffy. This time it left a large dent. Spike abandoned all attempts to be gentle and slung Buffy over his shoulder. His head still swam a bit as he got to his feet.

Another bang, and the plaster around the door frame crumbled. Spike shook off his dizziness and ran to the ladder. Tara was already halfway up. When she reached the top she turned to look down at him. "If you want to hand her to me ..."

He shook his head. "Behind you, there should be an opening that leads to the tunnels. See it?"

She glanced around, then nodded.

Just then he heard another bang, followed by a crash. He looked back to see a gaping hole in the wall where the door used to be. Adam was already through it. Spike looked up at Tara, who stared at Adam, her mouth working to form soundless words.

"Run!" he shouted at her.

She snapped out of it, and disappeared from view. Spike climbed behind her as fast as he could. Thankfully, Buffy weighed next to nothing, because his own limbs each felt they weighed a ton. He reached the top rung, but a hand grabbed his ankle and tried to pull him back down. "Typical," he muttered as he hung on single-handed, keeping an iron grip on Buffy with his other arm, and kicked Adam repeatedly in the face. At last the bastard let go and Spike somehow got up the ladder. He didn't spare a glance behind him as he shoved Buffy through the opening and then climbed in after her. Spike slowed down just long enough to pick her up again, and then he ran like hell.

***

"Spike, stop!"

"We're almost there," he said, dragging Tara along behind him. If anyone had followed them, he'd led a merry chase -- twisting and turning through the tunnels and sewers in an attempt to throw off any would-be captors. But now they were back on course. "Just a bit farther," he promised.

She pulled her hand out of his grip. He turned to see her doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for air. "I can't ..." She shook her head. "Gotta rest."

Spike shifted Buffy in his arms and sighed. He listened for movement behind them, but heard none. No immediate danger, then. "Of course," he told Tara. "Sorry." He moved his weight from foot to foot as he gauged the distance to their destination. "Look," he said when she started to breathe a little easier, "we're really close. Just a few more meters, then you can rest all you need to. All right?"

Tara raised her eyes to meet his, wariness creeping back into her expression now that they no longer faced a mutual threat. "Wh ... where are you taking us?"

"Right now, the magic shop. We need supplies. After that, someplace you'll both be safe."

She studied him again, her eyes roving over him. He rolled his eyes and looked away. He couldn't do this again. Instead he focused on the sleeping girl cradled in his arms. Even as he guarded her, treasure that she was, he clung to her like a life preserver. He knew she wasn't his Buffy -- not that he could rightfully call any Buffy his. But she was still Buffy: his love, his purpose ... his life.

"Okay," Tara said at last. She straightened and nodded. "Let's go."

Spike led her to the ladder going up to the trap door that let into the shop's basement. "I'm gonna go up and make sure it's safe," he said, setting Buffy gently on the ground. "Stay with her. If you hear someone coming, give a shout." Tara nodded as she knelt and settled Buffy's head in her lap. Spike took one last look around to make sure they were alone. Satisfied, he climbed the ladder and opened the trap door.

"Willow?" he called out as he stuck his head up through the floor. No answer, and he still had his head. That was a good sign. Still, he climbed on up to have a better look. She'd fixed up the basement; brought in furniture, lined it with candles ... turned it into a proper lair. The lady herself lay stretched out on a bed in the corner -- dead to the world, so to speak. Good thing he'd looked.

"Willow, wake up," he said softly. She didn't stir. Safe bet she wasn't faking, then. Spike dropped back through the trapdoor and landed next to Buffy and Tara below.

Buffy was sitting up, squinting at her surroundings through groggy eyes.

"She just woke up," said Tara. Spike put a finger to his lips to shush her.

Buffy blinked up at him, sleepy confusion giving way to fear and panic. "Spike? Where the hell--"

"Shh, Buffy!" He squatted in front of her and kept his voice low and, he hoped, soothing. "We're underneath the Magic Box. We're going to go up there and get some things, but you have to stay quiet. All right?"

"No, not all right," she spat back at him, and he clamped his hand over her mouth without thinking. Her eyes filled with terror, but that instantly gave way to resignation. Spike wasn't sure which he hated more.

"There is a vampire right above us who would kill you as soon as look at you." He ignored Tara's frightened whimper. "Right now, she's asleep. We have to get past her without waking her up. Which means that you have to stay quiet. Understand?"

Buffy nodded, and he removed his hand from her mouth. She looked up at Tara. "Who're you?" This time, she whispered.

"T-tara. I'm Tara."

"She's a friend," said Spike, standing up. "You up to climbing this ladder yourself?"

Buffy started to get to her feet. Spike reached down to assist, but she jerked her arm away. Tara helped her instead. She looked a bit wobbly, but after a moment she nodded.

"Right, then. I'll go first, just in case Red's awake." He noticed Buffy scanning the tunnel, considering her options, and sighed. Even in this dimension he knew her too well. "There are worse things than me lurking about down here, Pet, and you can't fight them. Best to stick with the devil you know, don't you think?"

She glared at him, but he was right, and she knew it. She wouldn't run.

"Stay close," he said, and went back up the ladder. Once he made sure Willow was still asleep, he turned to help them up. Tara came next, as she'd needed Buffy's help to reach the bottom rung. They both stood back as Buffy climbed through the trapdoor. Spike quietly lowered it, then ushered them toward the stairs. This time Tara led the way, with Buffy in between. Halfway up the stairs, her gaze drifted over to the bed, and she stopped.

"Willow." Her voice caught on the name. She turned to give Spike a look of pure malice the likes of which he'd never seen from her, and he felt his gut twist in an all-too-familiar knot. He knew he hadn't actually turned Willow, but guilt threatened to overwhelm him just the same. After all, it had been his wish that killed her, right? Just because he'd failed to bite her in his own world didn't make him any less culpable in this one. In fact, all of the loss this Buffy had known over the last few years could be laid right at his feet. He swallowed. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, to hand her a stake and bare his chest ... anything that might make her feel even the slightest bit better, if only for a moment. Instead, he urged her to keep going. She continued up the stairs without a fight.

The shop looked different, like it had before Giles bought it. The counter still sat up front, near the door. Gone were the overstuffed chairs and piles of pillows, the lighted table that had become Scooby Central, and most of the ancient tomes Spike was used to seeing along the shelves. No, not gone -- they'd never been there in the first place.

Right, enough of the tourist bit. He had work to do. He pulled out his list and handed it to Tara. "Help me find this stuff?"

Understanding dawned on her face as she scanned it. "Oh ... oh. You think I ..." She shook her head. "I do magic, b-but this ..." She looked up at him, afraid. "It's really advanced. I m-might not be able to ..."

"You're a witch?" Buffy gaped at Tara, then at Spike. "What, you're gonna have her do a love spell on me?"

"What? No ..." You were going to use a spell on me? He closed his eyes and felt his jaw involuntarily clench.

"No," Tara said, "this doesn't look like love spell stuff."

"It's not." Spike looked at Buffy. "This isn't about you." He turned to Tara. "And there's already someone to work it. That's not why I rescued you."

Tara nodded, but she looked only slightly reassured. "Then why --"

But he couldn't let her finish, because he heard footsteps on the basement stairs. Bloody buggering hell. He ushered both girls into the bathroom, heading off Buffy's protestations with a whispered "Willow!" He heard the basement door open just as he pulled the bathroom door shut.

"Looking for me?"

Spike turned to see Willow standing there, a hand on her hip and suspicion in her eyes. He smiled. "Who else?"

She looked past him to the bathroom and raised an eyebrow. "I haven't been in one of those since I died." She returned his smile. "Except to eat, I mean."

"Yeh, well. Never know with you women, do you?"

"Guess not." Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed as she slunk toward him. "You were missing." She put a little pout in her words and on her lips. "You and Giles ..."

"Yeh." He sauntered away from the bathroom door -- came as close to sauntering as a bloke with cracked ribs and a stab wound could, at any rate -- and over to a shelf full of dry goods. "He escaped, took me hostage."

This time both eyebrows shot up. "That old man took you hostage?"

"Well he had help, didn't he? Got a new Slayer on his team, for one ..."

Willow finally took notice of his fresh cuts and bruises. "You look like shit."

"Feel like shit. Had a hell of a time escaping. Thought the bastards really had me this time."

"Aw." She sidled up to him and put her hands on his chest. "Poor Spikey." Her hands slid down and pulled his shirt out of his waistband. "Want Willow to kiss and make it better?" She bent to lick the blood caked around his wound. He hissed as she ran a hand over the claw marks on his other side, and she pulled back to look at them. "What did that?"

"Uh ... they got demons working with them."

"Huh. How 'bout that." She grinned up at him, the tip of her tongue poking through her teeth, and got on her knees.

His mind went blank as she went to work undoing his belt. Then his eyes landed on the bathroom door. "Buffy ..."

Willow's hands jumped away from his fly as if it had bitten them. She stood up and frowned, and her shoulders slumped. "If you want somebody to pretend to be her, you can go home to Harmony." She turned to walk away.

"No," Spike said, grabbing her arm and turning her back to him. "She's escaped."

"Who?"

"Buffy. That's why I came here. I need you to get a team together and go find her."

Willow shook off his hand and stared at him. "Buffy's dead. We watched Adam kill her, remember? You said you wished we brought popcorn?"

Spike shook his head impatiently. "She's not dead. Adam's been keeping her as his special pet. I went there after I got away from the Resistance and they told me. We're supposed to bring her back."

"Buffy's alive?" Willow's expression went from shocked to hopeful as this information sunk in, and for a second Spike wondered if there was a bit of the old Willow's feelings left over for her best friend. "Does this mean I get to kill her?" Well. So much for that.

"Adam wants her alive, I expect."

Willow pouted. "Fine." As she looked at him, her eyes narrowed again. "Your aura ..." She sniffed the air. "And that smell." Oh, lovely. Here it comes ... "I thought maybe it was the stinky herbs or something, but it's like ... " She wrinkled her nose. "Just like Angel." Her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh. "Oh my God, you have a soul?!"

Spike sighed and did his best to look bored as he dug out his smokes. "Wondered when you'd pick up on that." He popped a fag in his mouth but before he could light it Willow plucked it out.

"Not in my store. It smells icky."

He raised an eyebrow. "And the pickled rat tongue and dried frog innards smell like a field of daisies?"

"Those are magic smells," she said defensively. "Anyway, how the hell did you get a soul? I thought I was the only one who could do that spell."

Shit. He was brilliant at lies of omission, which was all that had been needed so far. But this called for a bald-faced fabrication, and he was perfectly aware of how much he sucked at those. Aw, fuck it. "Giles."

"You're kidding."

"No." He shook his head. "He, um ... he thought I might switch sides if I became all soul-having." He nodded. That sounded convincing, didn't it? He tried not to look too proud of himself.
Willow tilted her head and studied him. Perhaps it was a bit early to pat himself on the back. "Did you?"

"Did I ... Please. I've got the sweetest set-up of my entire bloody unlife here. You think a soul's all it takes to get me to give that up? The conscience didn't do much for me the first time 'round, Sweetheart, why should it be any different now?"

Willow studied him a bit longer, then smiled her knowing, Mona Lisa smile. "Still ... I bet it's a nuisance." She slithered back up against him and ran her hands over his chest. "It's not like we don't know how to get rid of it." As she sucked his earlobe into her mouth he tried to focus on Buffy and Tara hiding in the bathroom. "I could give you a happy right now, or ... ooh!" She pulled back and grinned at him. "We could go back to the house, let Harmony in on the action. We could play while you watch, then you can play with both of us until that nasty soul's just a bad memory."

Spike found it difficult to speak. "Y'know, Pet, the word picture alone's almost enough to do the trick." He shook his head. "But we'll have to worry about that later. There's work to do now."

"Oh, come on, Spike." She swirled her tongue in the hollow of his throat as her hand wandered down to his crotch. "There's always time for a little fun. And it's for a good ca--"

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her back, forcing her to look at him. "I said get to work!" He shoved her away. "I won't be anywhere near perfectly happy until Buffy's back where she bloody well belongs. Go. Find. Her."

Willow frowned at him and rubbed the back of her head. "Maybe a locator spell ..."

"Whatever. Just go get everybody ready. I'll meet you at the house."

"Fine. Master. What are you gonna do?"

"I, uh ... I'm gonna clean myself up. Then I'm gonna go out back and have a smoke. Had a bit of a rough day, I think I deserve one. Don't you?"

Willow shrugged. "Whatever." She turned and went back into the basement. Spike listened as her footsteps sounded on the stairs, then he went to press his ear to the door. When he thought he heard the trapdoor slam shut, he opened the door and stuck his head in. "Oi, Will! One more thing!"

No answer. She was gone, then. He went to the bathroom and knocked. "You can come out now."

The door opened, and Tara emerged.

"She's gonna do a locator spell," Spike told her. "Know any counter spells, keep her from finding us?"

Tara nodded. "I'll need some ingredients."

He motioned around at the shop. "Shouldn't be a problem."

Realizing Buffy hadn't come out of the bathroom yet, he looked inside. Buffy stood at the mirror, clearly horrified by what she saw. Her fingers roved over her closely cropped hair, lingering now and then on the surgical scars. They moved down to her face, tracing the sunken eyes, the gaunt cheeks, as though trying to verify that the haunted girl in the mirror was really her. Or maybe that it wasn't. Her eyes began to shine, and her lip trembled. Spike wanted to pull her out of there, to take her by the shoulders and tell her how beautiful she was, but the words would ring hollow to her ears coming from him. Instead he stepped inside and stood next to her.

It startled him a bit, his lack of reflection. Not that he'd expected it to be there; but ever since he'd gotten his soul, it made him angry whenever a mirror refused to acknowledge his existence. These simple sheets of glass, nothing magical about them or the coating on the back, reminding him of his inhumanity, of how little he mattered to the universe.

He reached out and tapped Buffy's reflection. "That's not you," he said gently. "This is temporary. It'll get better." She turned away from the mirror and looked up at him. He met her eyes. "You'll get better."

She glanced back at the mirror, then pushed past him into the shop.

"So, we should probably hurry," said Tara, "in case she comes back."

Spike tore his gaze away from Buffy and nodded. "We need candles, right?" He picked up a box of tapers from a nearby shelf.

"Yeah, and a toad stone ... um, do you mind if I ask what this spell is for?"

"Summoning spell. Need to summon a vengeance demon."

Tara was reaching for a jar, but her hand froze in midair. "You're going to curse someone?"

Spike let out a laugh. "I'm the one who's cursed, and the rest of you by proxy. Gonna make the bint undo it, if I can ever find her." Tara looked even more confused. Spike took a deep breath, then launched into his explanation. "Her name's Halfrek. She's a friend of Anya's," he added for Buffy's benefit, but she appeared to be ignoring them as she stared out the window. "Anyway, she, um, she tricked me into making a wish. Changed history, and not for the better. Created a whole other world." He waved his hand to indicate their surroundings. "I just want to put everything right again."

Tara's brow wrinkled up. "Another world ..."

"Yeh. I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not the same Spike you know. And I'm not gonna hurt you." He raised his voice to add, "Either of you."

Tara seemed to accept this, and she nodded. "In your world ... we knew each other? I mean, I ..." Her eyes widened. "Was I a vampire?"
"No! No, you did the hero bit along with the rest of the Scoobies."

"S-scoobies ...?"

"Nevermind. Point is, you were the only one of Buffy's friends that I could tolerate half the time. The only one didn't ever look down your nose at me."

"That's why you rescued me."

"Got it in one." He moved toward the back of the store, browsing the shelves.

"So ... is it true, what she said?"

Spike looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"Do you really have a soul?"

From the front of the shop, Buffy laughed.

Spike turned toward her, but she still had her back to them, gazing out the window. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. Or possibly sobs. He fought the urge to go to her and turned back to Tara. "Yeh. That part's true." More audible laughter from Buffy. She sounded a bit hysterical. "Look, we got everything? We should get going." The bell over the door jangled, and Spike whirled around; but nobody entered, and Buffy was gone. "Balls," he muttered as he flew to the door.

The doorway was shaded enough for him to step outside, but he couldn't get to where she stood in the middle of the street. "Buffy ..."

"It all looks the same."

Spike followed her gaze, which swept downtown Sunnydale. To his surprise, she was right. There were fewer people milling about, and some of the shops had been boarded up. The curfew signs were new. But there were still cars parked in the street, still people having coffee at the Espresso Pump. He wondered if it was brave of these people to hold out, refuse to go into hiding, change their way of life ... or if they were just stupid. Or maybe they'd all struck some kind of deal, figured out a way to coexist. Like Mary.

He shook his head. "Looks can be deceiving, Pet."

"I could run," she said quietly, as though thinking out loud. She looked at Tara, who stood next to Spike in the doorway. "We both could."

"Um, I don't think ..." Tara looked from Spike to Buffy. "I mean, where would we go?"

Buffy glanced at Spike, then lowered her head and hugged herself. God, she'd never looked so lost before. Not even that first night, after she'd come back ...

"You could run," he told her. "Both of you, I can't stop you. I won't try. But then you won't see Giles."

Buffy's head snapped up, and her eyes flashed with anger. "You have Giles?"

"No," Spike sighed, "I don't have Giles. I know where he is, and he's waiting for me to bring you to him. I can take you, if you let me. We'll go there right now."

"Giles would never trust you like that."

At this, Spike laughed. "Bloody right! Giles doesn't trust me. He's got at least a dozen backup plans worked out for if I screw him over. And if I show up there without you ... he's already figured out exactly how he'll torture me before he dusts me."

She stared at him, still skeptical.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the doorjamb. Jesus, he was tired. "It's up to you. I'm going to meet Rupert, with or without you." He opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at her. "I just want to make things right, Buffy. It'll be better for all of us if you help me." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and went back inside.

A few paces in he stopped and lit a cigarette. He had a third of it smoked before he heard the door shut behind him. He turned to see Buffy standing there, arms crossed defiantly. She walked up to him.

"I don't believe you," she said.

His eyebrows knit in confusion. "What don't--"

"All that stuff you said before. The wish, the other reality, the soul ..." She shook her head. "I don't believe it. I don't know why you decided to get me out of there, but it changes nothing. If you so much as touch me, chip or no chip, I'll kill you."

Spike sighed, breathing smoke out his nose, and nodded. "Understood."

Her chin tilted up just a fraction of an inch, but it made her look almost regal. "When we get there, if you are not on your absolute best behavior, I'll tell Giles about your visits. And then I'll watch him kill you." With that, she turned and went to the basement.

Spike watched her until she disappeared through the door. He took one last drag and looked up at the ceiling as he blew it out, then tossed the butt on the floor. He didn't bother to step on it. Let the place burn. Maybe, if he was lucky, that bitch that called herself Willow would be in it when it did.

Taking the bag of supplies from Tara, he motioned for her to follow. Then he set off to meet his fate in the place where this nightmare had started.

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