Riley dreaded confronting his mother. He had a gut feeling that she would be expecting him, so he chose not to postpone the inevitable and went straight down to the control room. He was directed toward the observation lab and made his way through the corridors, not pausing to speak to the many men who offered greetings. Once he arrived, he saw her speaking with Hostile Seventeen on the other side of the glass and stood back to listen.
“We have lost time to make up for. Someone as advanced as you are is usually already on the final levels of testing.” Maggie was saying. “So I suggest you cooperate.”
“I’m not in the mood.” Spike replied, staring at the assortment of tests that were laid on the table. “If you want to pick my brain apart then you’ll have to do it when I’m dead and you dissect it.”
“I plan to.” Walsh said casually, lifting a box with several different shapes cut into the sides. “Now then, I want you to take these blocks and put them through the proper holes as fast as you can. If you behave accordingly, I’ll see to it that you get human blood for dinner.”
With a grimace, Spike accepted the wooden box and the blocks. He sat it in front of him and watched as the woman set a timer. Smiling, he knocked the box into the floor and stomped it, breaking it into two pieces. He grabbed both and sat it in front of her, then gathered all the blocks and dropped them inside. “Did I pass? Fifteen seconds must be a record, eh?”
Maggie shifted the ruined test off the desk and concentrated on another, devoid of emotion. “This is a word association test. I want you to look at the photo and say the first thing that comes to mind.”
“Can’t I just be sent to my room for breaking your toy?” Spike asked, rolling his eyes when she shook her head. “I’ve been bad, send me to bed with no dinner. I don’t bloody well care.”
“Boy, when I punish you it will be about ten times worse than anything you can imagine. You’re really close to seeing what I mean.”
“Ohh, can you whip me and let me call you ‘big bad mama’?” Spike put two fingers up to his mouth and licked between them. “You’ll be calling me ‘bad daddy’ within seconds. On second thought, no you wouldn’t, because even –I- am not that desperate.”
Maggie nodded at one of the men who stood in the corner and he sat a box beside them. Spike eyed it curiously and watched her open it. She smiled and held up a cross with pinchers on the end. “You will be wearing this as a tongue ring if you don’t start playing by my rules.”
“Let’s play word association, then. Woman with weird crucifix? Bitch.” Spike crossed his arms and glanced at the boys with the guns. “Bitch. Flaming bitch! Don’t you fellas agree?”
Maggie held up a card that showed a woman breast feeding her child and said, “What do you think?”
“Lucky little shit.” What he actually thought was that Buffy had nice nipples that poked through her shirt and he would love to nurse from her any time and any place.
Nodding, she tossed that photo and held up another. It showed a man opening a car door for a woman. Spike shrugged and said, “Desperate to get laid. He’ s going to turn on the charm until he can get into her knickers and then she ’ll be opening her own doors, buying his dinner and begging him to make her get off first for a change.”
“Can you keep it to one word answers, please?”
“Why? Does my in-depth analysis throw you? Were you unprepared for me to be able to think?” Spike cocked his head to one side and took in the next photo, a supple little teenager who was baring her throat. “Boring.”
“Boring?” Maggie stared at the photo and then back at the blond vampire. Most vampires called the photo ‘dinner’. “Could you elaborate?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Walsh slammed the photo down and glared at him.
“You said I could use one word answers and I’m afraid you’ll poke my tongue if I don’t behave.” Spike hid his grin when the woman sighed in exasperation.
“Just explain. Why would you call this boring?”
“Well, it’s been my experience that anyone who bares a throat that damn easy is too stupid to appreciate my power. I’m not going to feed on someone who wants to be fed off of, woman. A meal is no good if you don’t taste fear in the blood.”
Maggie tossed that one and held up another, a big red splotch in the middle of a gray background. Spike eyed it critically and replied, “Art.”
“You know you thought of blood first!” She cried, throwing that picture as well.
The next one showed a wishing well, causing Spike to smile. “Blood.”
“Why would you think of blood looking at this one? Can’t you just answer honestly, please?”
“I think of blood looking at that because Timmy was down a well and I missed it. I wanted to make the person who caused me to miss it bleed.”
“That’s absurd.” Walsh snapped, flipping through her stack of pictures.
“If you are going to question everything I say or tell me what to think, then give me what grade you think I should have and let me go!” Spike shouted, indicating with his hand to see the next one. When she held it up, he yawned and shrugged. “Michael Jackson.”
“What?” Maggie flipped it around so she could see it and rolled her eyes. “Why would a photo of a woman surrounded my demons make you think of Michael Jackson?”
“Thriller. Damn good video. Smashing make-up.” Spike smiled. “He’s a demon, you know?”
“You enjoy music videos?” Walsh leaned forward and scribbled furiously on her notepad.
“Not as much as I enjoy NBC’s daytime lineup, but they’ll do.”
“You watch television?”
“Don’t you?”
Shaking her head, Walsh jotted several things in the margins of the hostile’ s file. Never before had she seen a vampire like this. None of the others had ever engaged her in conversation or been so animated. Usually by the time she tested them this way, they were already so broken that it was like testing someone in a coma. “I don’t watch any television.”
“You don’t watch television and you think –I- need these tests? You’re the daft one! There is a television in every home in this country. Every person watches television, so why does that surprise you?”
“You aren’t a person.”
Spike stared at the ground and said nothing, his jawbones protruding as he gritted his teeth. Professor Walsh watched him closely and then spoke in a small, calm voice. “It bothers you, what I just said, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Did you want to become a vampire? You wanted to have sex with a mortal girl in the sewers and most vampires find that repulsive. You watch television and most demons are too busy plotting the end of the world to be bothered with that. So what exactly is your story?”
Spike crossed his arms and willed himself not to speak any more. Absolutely nothing, no amount of torture or starvation, would make him reveal the events that led to his turning. Nothing would make him relive the day he died or the way he came into being or his shame. Nothing.
He glanced up when a tall young man stuck his head through the door and cleared his throat. The woman turned and said, “Riley Finn! You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“I’m not the only one, am I?” The man shot back, ducking behind the doorway.
Spike watched the woman stomp out and tried to remember why that name sounded familiar. Riley? Wasn’t that a friend of the Slayer's? Hadn’t she said that someone named Riley knew that she had been engaged to Spike? “This just gets worse and worse.” He muttered under his breath, then stared at the armed guards. “Do either of you Gomer Pyle’s have a cigarette?”
__
Maggie slammed the door of her office and pointed at the chair in front of her desk. She waited until Riley sat down and then she spoke, “Do you realize how much pressure I have been under the past twenty-four hours?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Riley concentrated on staring at the papers on her desk, unwilling to look at her.
“Do you want to send me to an early grave, Riley? Because worrying about what we do, first of all, is enough by itself. Then, you release a girl who we suspect of being a demon, knowing that she can reveal us. I did what I had to do and sent you to Iowa and you come back! Your grandparents are worried sick and I expect you to call them with a full apology.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Riley glanced up at her and said, “Were you planning on telling me that she was going to be recruited or just let me come home and see if for myself?”
“What?” Stalking around her desk, Maggie yanked her chair out and flopped into it. “How did you know this?”
“I had my laptop.”
“You can’t access the Initiative’s files unless you have the program and I don’t recall giving you any clearance for that.”
“I didn’t ask. You can’t expect me to just go away and do nothing when the girl I’m falling in lo-“ He stopped talking and stared at his shoes. For several seconds the silence was deafening before he added, “When the girl I’ m interested in is in danger by the very people who I trust.”
“Trust is a dead issue here, Riley. I trusted you on several counts during this incident and you’ve failed to live up to it, so don’t you talk to me about trust.” She narrowed her eyes at him and spoke with a mother’s authority; something she seldom used. “Where did you get the program, young man?”
“The ‘young man’ would prefer not to say.”
“I have to insist that you do.”
“You can insist all you want to, Mother.” He spat the word ‘mother’ like it tasted vile against his tongue. “You have your way of doing things and I have mine. I took that disk myself and saw to it that it was disposed of. Now, why don’t you tell me exactly how you plan on convincing Buffy to join us?”
“I won’t have to now, son.” The smile that pulled her lips upward was anything but jovial. “You’ll do the convincing or I will see to it that you are pulled from the Initiative and your memory erased.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Riley leaned forward in his chair, gripping the armrests to keep from throwing a fist against the wall.
“Oh, I’d dare. You do remember that man you called ‘daddy’, don’t you?”
Riley stood and moved to open the door. He definitely recalled his father and what became of him. “This is wrong. She’s a girl and she doesn’t deserve a life like we could give her. Constantly fighting, seeing demons everyday and living a lie to keep it a secret. How can you wish that on anyone?”
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“What if I am?”
“Then this is the perfect arrangement. We’ll teach her how to survive in your world and you’ll never have to live a lie with her. Go rest, it's late and I expect you to give me an outline of your strategy by tomorrow.”
Riley stepped out the door and slammed it hard. Resting could wait. The first thing he had to do was make sure that Grant disposed of the disk like he had told him too.
__
Willow pulled the thermometer out of Buffy’s mouth and stared at it. “Wow, Buffy. Your temperature is over one hundred and three.”
Buffy sneezed into a tissue and smiled at her friend weakly. “I’ll be fine, Will. Did you find anything else about the thing in Spike’s head?”
“Not yet. I’m still getting into the system without any problem though, so if there is a way, I'll find it.”
Nodding, Buffy rasped, “What about the commandos?”
Willow had dissected the files and was able to tell the gang-- minus Buffy, who was napping-- quite a bit about the organization. How it was founded, why it was founded and when it came to Sunnydale. What she had left out were the names associated with the soldiers. It took her a while to get the nerve, but she had finally told Giles, who was as stunned as she was. Now she had to tell Buffy and she dreaded it with every breath she took. “I did, actually. Since you’re sick though, I’ll just wait and tell you later.”
“Tell me now.” Buffy replied, hacking and pounding her chest. “Take my mind off the fact that I can’t breathe.”
“The Initiative doesn’t mean what you’d first think the name implies. You hear people say, ‘take the initiative’ when they want you to react swiftly, however, that’s not exactly how it’s used here. These people are using the Political Science terminology of the word; the right or procedure by which legislation may be introduced or enacted directly by the people.” She paused, saw the blank look on her friend’s face and chose smaller words. “Basically, they eventually want to make the public aware of demons, have testing under their belts and have a law put on the books regarding the existence and threat that demons pose. They want government funding and the only way to get that is to have enough evidence to prove they have a legitimate civil complaint.”
Buffy blew her nose and took a sip of water. “That doesn’t really sound like an evil thing.”
“Well, it’s not. I mean, not in the classic sense. Unless you view testing these demons as inhumane, its not a problem. Altering the DNA might freak some people out though, I guess.” Willow shrugged and handed Buffy another tissue. “The evil part is the fact that they’ve hacked into banks, small businesses and even the college funds to pay for their endeavors. They are taking the citizens of Sunnydale for all they’re worth. They have outside funding as well, an organization I couldn’t trace, but anytime the ends don’ t meet, they dip into the town’s funds.”
“Yeah, but if that’s all they’re doing then why would they use guns and strap me to a bed? I’m human! This one guy shot a poison dart at me!”
“I’m pretty sure it was a tranquilizer dart.” Willow replied and tucked her hair behind her ear. “There’s more, Buff.”
“Is it something that will give me a reason to find them and really rough them up for scaring me half to death?”
“I dunno.” Willow shrugged and took a deep breath before she spoke. “Maggie Walsh, as in Professor Walsh, is running things down there. She founded the organization in the eighties and has been in charge ever since.”
“No way!” Buffy sat up in bed and began shredding her tissue anxiously. “Walsh? I had her pegged for a demon!”
“I did too. No one could assign that much work and still have a clear conscience.” Willow grinned, but then grew serious. “The special agent in charge is Riley.”
Buffy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Riley? Finn?”
“From what I could gather, he is Walsh’s biological son. She’s named as his mother anyway, his father was left blank. I checked him out and he seems to be on the up and up, I mean, he’s normal and has no criminal history or anything.”
“He’s not normal!” Buffy cried. “He’s living a lie! Normal student by day and demon hunter by night and let’s not forget that he hasn’t bothered telling me what he does and-“ She paused and raised her eyebrow. “Oh my God, he’s me. He’s, like, a male me.”
“Sorta.” Willow chewed her thumbnail and watched Buffy, trying to gauge her emotions. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just a little shocking.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Shoving a cough drop in her mouth, Buffy flopped back against her pillow. “I ’m glad I didn’t have time to fall for him. This would really, really sting if I had fallen in love with the wrong guy, yet again. And what if he was there? What if he just stood by and let those big men attack me?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I need to get down there and get Spike out. That has to happen first and second, I need to teach them that money doesn’t grow on trees, even in Sunnydale. They can’t just steal ... even if they think it's for the greater good.”
“You’re going to get your chance.”
That comment got Buffy’s attention and she stared at Willow. “What do you mean?”
“As of 12/7/99, you are their newest recruit.”
“I’m so proud.” Buffy deadpanned, crossing her arms angrily. “I’ll show them a thing or two about what motivates a real demon hunter. I’m hunting Spike and I intend to catch him.”
**And see if I could fall for -him-. What is it with me and bad guys?** She added silently.
"It's getting late, Buffy. You should probably turn in and I'll see you in the morning." Willow stood up and moved the contents on the table closer to the bed so the 'patient' could reach it better.
"Yeah, to sleep perchance to dream." Sighed Buffy, snuggling into her cover.
"You know Hamlet?" Willow looked at her skeptically and felt her forehead again. "You really must have a fever."
"Good Night."
__
///
The room smelled of antiseptic spray and Buffy glanced toward the ceiling, wondering if anyone could hear her if she yelled. It was the same room and the same dirty needle was stuck in her arm. Part of her subconscious marveled at that, pondering why her dream would pick up where the last had left off. She shivered, her naked body protesting the cold metal table beneath her skin and the fans that blew freezing air her way. Opening her mouth, she pulled in a deep breath and shouted, “Someone help me.”
“It won’t help to scream, pet. I’ve been screaming forever.” Spike stood in the corner, twirling a rose in his hand. He held it up for her to see and said, “Now I have eleven remaining. Do you know what that means?”
“Eleven days. I know what it means.” Buffy felt a hot tear course down her cheek and she turned away. “They are killing you.”
Spike moved closer and laid the rose against her thigh. "Slayer, look at me." When she faced him again, he trailed it upward, pulling it along her hip and pausing at her ribcage. “The signs are all there, luv. Twelve roses all lined up in a row, just waiting for you to find them. Pretty roses, every one.”
“I don’t understand.” Buffy cried, trying to sit up.
Spike pulled the embalming needle from her arm and yanked her upward, shaking her. “All you have to do is look harder. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, closing her eyes. His tongue darted out, tracing her earlobe and she shuddered. “Spike …”
“Shh, no more words. The rest is for you.” He pulled away and smiled at her, putting his finger to his lips and licking it. She started to protest as he moved his slick digit between her legs, but every sound died in her throat when he pressed against her inner thigh. “Bloody hell, Slayer. You’re hot.”
“Spike, tell me what I need to do?” Buffy pleaded, her hips arching into his hand as he slid one, then two fingers into her core and used his thumb against her swollen clit. He didn’t reply and she squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on how good he felt.
Suddenly, without warning, he stopped and moved away. “Don’t forget. Look closer, Slayer. Go where you’ve always gone and you’ll see what you need to see.”
Buffy sat up and leaped off the table when he vanished. She shook her head and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsatisfied and more aroused than she had ever been. “Spike, wait!”
Firm hands gripped her and a mask was lowered over her head. Buffy screamed into it, smelling gas. They were killing her, poisoning her air. Her chest tightened and her eyes grew heavy, watering as her oxygen was depleted. The last thing she thought was, "Roses, find roses."
//
Buffy sat up fast, pulling fresh air deep into her lungs. A cough, loud and thick with congestion, erupted from her chest and she groaned. Feeling her head, she noted the damp sweat and how hot she still was. Putting her feet on the floor, she shivered and stood, intent on finding some kind of medicine in her mother’s bathroom. Trudging quietly through the house, she pilfered through the contents of the cabinet and chose a bottle of decongestant. It would be dawn soon, but she was too ill to care that she would sleep all day if she took the meds.
Walking back to her room, she felt a moisture in her underwear and reddened, “I’m the only person alive who can turn a portent into a wet dream. And isn’ t it just like Spike to start something and not finish it?”
__
Riley, sitting in his car, watched the lights turn off and on in the little house on Revello Drive. He drained his coffee cup and glanced at his laptop, waiting for the tag registration on the car in the driveway to load. In order to recruit someone, you had to know everything about his or her family, home life and social status. Judging from the modest home, the Summers' family wasn't wealthy by any standards. It was a good thing the Initiative didn't discriminate based on financial status.
The laptop beeped as it pulled the requested information, straight from the Department of Motor Vehicles, up quickly and without any problems. With a copy of the mother's drivers license, date of birth and social security number, he would be able to find out everything about her life and discover whether or not she had any known disorders that could be passed to Buffy eventually. He already had Buffy's social security number and Forest was busy doing a background check on her in the seat next to him.
"Hey Forest, are you sure you got rid of the disk well?"
"Yes, man. Damn!" Forest hit the enter key on his own laptop and waited. "You keep asking me that. After Grant and I put the new cement up, we dumped everything behind the Bronze and you know as well as I do that even the beggars around here stay away from that trash!"
"You should have destroyed it."
"Listen, dude. We were in the sewer unarmed ... with that thing that none of us can catch somewhere down there. And Walsh was on our asses to get back underground. Sue us for being in a hurry." Forest whistled and stared at his screen when it loaded. “Damn, Rye! When Walsh gets a load of this chick’s police record there is no way she will pull her in.”
Riley motioned for his friend’s computer and swapped his own for it. His eyes widened as he digested one screen after another of complaints and incidents logged against Buffy. He didn’t want her in the Initiative. At least now he had hope.
“We have eleven days before Spike dies.” Xander said, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He stared pointedly at Willow and then turned his attention toward Giles, who was seated next to Joyce on the sofa. “I still don’t know why that makes a difference. It’s Spike. Spike, of the pointy fangs and Spike of the growly growl. I can’t stop thinking that he is-”
“That’s because you have a one track mind.” Anya interrupted, nibbling on an unpopped kernel from her spot in the floor next to Xander’s chair.
Xander paused, halfway to his mouth with the next handful, and raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? I have a one track mind?”
“Well, yeah. Last night, when we were rutting like wild deer, you kept mumbling about Spike.” Anya sighed and took his coke can from his hand. “I swear, if I was a jealous woman … ”
“Now hold it right there-“ Xander said, trying not to notice the smirk on Willow’s face or the way Giles and Joyce were staring at him. “I just had a lot on my mind and I don’t rut! That cheapens it. Can’t you just call it-“
“Fornicating? Copulating? Having intercourse? Oh, or making love?” Anya asked hopefully, turning to rest her chin on his knee.
“Screwing.” Xander replied, not willing to go that far.
Anya sat up straight and stared at him apologetically, “Oh, Xander. I don’t have a screwdriver. Unless, oh, you could loan me yours from your toolbelt. The only time you wear it anymore is when you show me your interpretation of those Village People who do that dance.” She stood and hummed YMCA, making the motions. “I love it when you use your penis to spell the letters.”
“It bends?” Joyce blurted, staring at the two in horror.
Xander was too flummoxed to reply, so Anya spoke again. “Oh no, it doesn’t bend. He dips it into finger paint and spells the letters on paper … just by thrusting his hips. Sometimes I get to be the paper and then we merge our genitalia in acts of coition.” Her hand roamed over her hips and she stared off into the distance, panting. “Bodies clapping, undulating, uniting in slick friction until semen and-”
“Anya for god’s sake, stop now!” Fumbling to his feet, Xander dropped the popcorn bowl into the floor and clapped a hand to her mouth.
Giles was no longer able to remain stoic and quickly excused himself. Joyce followed and when Xander heard them erupt into laughter from the kitchen, he grabbed Anya’s arm. “You and I are going to the book store.”
“We are?” Smiling, Anya grabbed her purse. “I’ve always wanted to couple with you in the human anatomy section.”
“Anya!” Xander whirled and grabbed her by the shoulders. “We are not going to fornicate, copulate, mate, couple or anything else remotely pertaining to intercourse until you can learn some slang.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This entire humiliating moment could have been avoided if you knew what it meant to screw. No more big words! We’re going to teach you what slang is all about.”
“Coitus and coition are fairly short words.” She reasoned, running her hand over his chest. “Would you like to perform coitus on the Slayer’s sofa?”
Willow, who was sitting beside the sofa in question, composed herself from the laughter and shook her head. “No. There will be no coitus here.”
“Nothing dealing with intercourse, Anya!” Xander pulled her toward the door.
“Cunnilingus doesn’t have intercourse. Can we do that? Fellatio?”
The door shut on Xander’s groan and Willow shouted, “It’s safe! You can come back in!”
Giles and Joyce came back into the living room, both flushed from laughing and found seats. Willow shook her head and went back to the computer, reading and jotting down anything she thought pertinent. Glancing at the clock in one corner of her screen, she said, “It’s after three. Shouldn’t we wake Buffy up?”
“She’s awake. I’m gonna go out for a while.” Buffy replied, dragging herself into the room. Despite all the sleep she had gotten, she had dark circles under her eyes. She was dressed though, wearing black pants, a red sweater and boots. Something that she remembered from her dream was standing out. Spike had said something about going where she had always gone and seeing roses that were lined up. “I’ll see you later.”
“Are you certain, Buffy? You don’t look very well.” Joyce laid a hand on her forehead and sighed. “You’re hot.”
The phone rang and Joyce glanced at Willow, who was sitting next to it. “Willow, honey, will you get it?”
Willow grabbed it, tuning out the debate on whether Buffy should go out. “Hello?”
“Willow?” Riley asked, wondering if he had dialed the dorm by mistake. “It’s Riley.”
Waving frantically, she got everyone’s attention and said, “Oh, hello Riley.” Emphasis on Riley.
“Is Buffy around?”
“You want to talk to Buffy?” Willow spoke, indicating the phone and questioning whether her friend wanted to talk. When Buffy nodded, she replied, “Yeah, hang on a sec.”
Giles intercepted the Slayer on her way across the room and whispered, “How are you going to handle this? Are you going to let him know that you know or allow him to labor under the illusion that you know nothing?”
“He’s calling from Iowa. He’s not even here.” Buffy shrugged and glanced at the red head. “Will, what should I do?”
Willow covered the mouthpiece and said, “If he knows that you know, he’s going to wonder how and then I may lose access. Let him think you know nothing.”
“I guess it’s settled then. I’m clueless Buffy. It’s a good thing I’ve had a lot of practice at being her.” With a sigh, Buffy took the phone. “Hello?”
Riley perked when he heard her voice and smiled, ignoring the instant message from his mother that popped up on his computer screen. “Hi Buffy.”
“How’s Iowa? Is it snowing?”
“I’m actually back in Sunnydale.” Leaning on one elbow, he cradled the phone with his shoulder and replied to the message. –I have her on the phone! I’m logging off!—
“You’re in Sunnydale! When did you get back?” Glancing at the audience she had, Buffy mouthed. –He’s back.—
“How convenient.” Willow shoved her hands in her pockets and glanced at Giles. “Didn’t I tell you? They will use his connection to her as the way to get her. Classic strategy.”
“My grandparents decided to go on a cruise and couldn’t stand the thought of me being alone. They shipped me home.” The message box blinked again before Riley could disconnect and he rolled his eyes. His mother had written, --Remember your father! Don’t give me a reason to get upset. --
“Aww, I’m sorry!” Feeling a little light headed, Buffy perched on the edge of the couch before she added. “Since we have such a long break from school though, maybe you can get back out there.”
“Yeah, got to love that millennium madness. It got us two extra weeks just for computer upgrading. Imagine if it’s as bad as they say?”
“Yeah, really. We’ll get all of January off too!” Buffy cleared her throat and then coughed, twisting the receiver so he wouldn’t be deafened. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sick?”
“Oh, it’s just a cold. I forgot my jacket the other day and got caught in the rain.”
Riley thought for several seconds and then shut his computer down. “Hey, you know what? I have just the thing for the sniffles. Would you mind a visitor?”
Buffy’s eyes widened and she glanced up at her friends. “No, I wouldn’t mind a visitor.”
“Great, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“Uh, Riley?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you want to know my address?”
He slapped himself on the forehead for allowing himself to make such a slip. “That would come in handy, wouldn’t it?”
Buffy quickly gave him directions to her house and hung up, pacing nervously around the room. “He said he had just the thing for a cold and he’s on his way.”
“Don’t take anything he gives you!” Willow instructed. “Just tell him that you’re allergic to most herbs and you don’t want to press your luck.”
“Right!” Giles nodded his head in agreement. “We know they plan on recruiting you but we don’t know exactly what that entails. Having you drugged and in their element would be absolutely horrendous.”
“Definitely.” Willow eyed her friend up and down. “Just stay calm and be natural.”
“Actually, call him back and cancel the whole thing.” Giles pointed at the phone, wagging his finger. “I just don’t think Spike is worth the risk of getting involved with this militia. We aren’t thinking logically here. If you become involved, steal Spike and somehow manage to salvage him, then you ’ll have an entire army angry at you.”
Willow made a noise in the back of her throat and stared at Buffy with wide eyes. Buffy shrugged and said, “I have thought about it. When I get Spike out, secretly and without them knowing, I’ll simply do something that will get me kicked out. Or maybe let them know that I’m the chosen one and say it ’s a conflict of interests.”
“I don’t like this.” Giles pulled his glasses off, rubbing them furiously with his cloth. “We haven’t prepared.”
“Spike’s life is on the line!” Buffy shouted, her pasty skin flushing in anger. “You think he was prepared for that?! If I get in and see that I can ’t do anything then at least I can let him know what’s going to happen to him. He deserves that much!”
Joyce stepped forward and put an arm around Buffy’s shoulders, intervening before it got any worse. “I’m going to be here. I’m not going anywhere and I ’ll take care of her.”
“Mom, you can’t be here. You’ll just make us uncomfortable.”
“Yes, she can and she will. It’s absolutely perfect. Of course your mother would be here when you’re ill! I’m still not happy about this, but we haven’ t the time to argue.” Giles motioned for Willow to collect her things. “Willow, I’ll drive you home.”
Grabbing her belongings, Willow paused and squeezed Buffy on the arm. “Just let him make all the moves. Kinda feel him out and see what happens. And call me.”
__
Buffy was staring at the television, trying not to panic, when she heard the soft knock on the door. She had insisted that Joyce stay upstairs for a little while, at least, so that there would be less tension and her mother had complied finally. Collecting her thoughts and plastering a false smile on her face, she stood and walked toward the door, telling herself that it was all for Spike.
Riley was about to knock again when the door opened. Relief was the only thing he felt as Buffy smiled up and him and offered a friendly greeting. He adjusted the bag in one arm arm and quickly hugged her with the other, closing his eyes and leaning his head on top of hers. Part of him had been convinced he would never see her again, much less touch her. “It’s good to see you.”
Buffy didn’t know what to do and she almost pulled away, but she reigned in her emotions enough to give him a small squeeze back. Since she had known him, he had maintained a courteous distance from her, only touching her when he absolutely had to. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m really glad you’ re back. Why don’t you come in, it’s cold out here?”
He let her go and followed her into the house. “It really is. The weather lately is just not natural. I came to California for the sun.”
For the first time since he arrived, she gazed at him fully and gasped. His jaw was bruised and both of his eyes looked blackened. It dawned on her that he may have been there that night. Riley might have been the one that fought her and that pissed her off and made her even more leery. “What-“
He saw the way she was staring at him and realized that he was still bruised. “Oh, I should have prepared you over the phone. My grandfather had a horse corralled that broke free and we had to go chase it. I got a limb in the face.”
“Are you okay?” Part of her wanted to believe it and another part wondered if he really meant that he got HER limb in his face.
“Yeah.” Riley nodded and peered around the room. It was warm and inviting, decorated with just the amount of art and personal belongings to make it homey. Giving her his full attention again, he narrowed his eyes as he recalled her arm. “How about you? You told me you got cut.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” She shrugged and indicated his coat, hoping to change the subject. “Want me to hang your coat up?”
“Sure.” He put the bag down in the floor, not catching the weary gaze that Buffy cast at it, and peeled his coat off.
Buffy glanced at his arms. Even though he was a liar and was probably only feigning interest to ‘recruit’ her, he still had really good arms. Swearing under her breath, she quickly draped his jacket over a hook and led him toward the living room. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” He lifted the bag again and followed her, eyeing her tiny frame. “You know, for someone who doesn’t feel well, you certainly look great. Some people are just born with it.”
“It’s Maybelline.” She sat on the sofa and swallowed, trying to push away the scratchiness in the back of her throat.
“Well, maybe you should be their spokesmodel.” He sat beside her and opened the bag. “I rented a couple movies and brought you some bottled water. People don’t realize how many harmful contaminants there are in tap water. This is better if you have a sore throat.”
“Thank you.” Buffy took the water and movies he offered and almost burst out laughing when she saw the titles. If she didn’t know what he was up to, she probably wouldn’t have connected the dots, but since she did, the laugh would have been on him if she had dared giggle. “G.I. Jane and Fright Night? How did you happen to pick these?”
Riley licked his lips and took a deep breath. The plan was to gauge her reaction to the military film, see how she felt about women in the armed forces and then watch her react to a scary movie. Most girls would be quivering messes and leap into a guy’s arms, which he wouldn’t mind at all, but this was strictly a test. “Well, nothing will make a girl feel better than a movie about woman power and most girls like Demi Moore. The scary one is there because I’m a guy and had to even it out.”
“You’re very sweet.”
“I’m also sorry you’re sick.” Riley reached into the bag again and plucked a fuzzy teddy bear from the bottom. The bear had nothing to do with the test. It was there because he honestly felt bad for what he would be introducing into her life in the days to come. “See? He’s sick too.”
Buffy really smiled at him as she took the bear. It was sitting upright, wearing a red and white striped gown and had a little nightcap on. One paw was clutching a box of tissue and the other paw was rubbing his button nose. “It’s adorable. Thank you!”
“Feel better?” Riley watched her cradle the bear in her lap and berated himself again for allowing this to happen. She was a girl, frilly and perfect. From the top of her silky hair, straight to the bottom of her tiny feet, she was a girl and it was wrong to pull her into his world. Every fiber in his being wanted her to say that women fighting in battle was wrong and be terrified at the demons in the film. If that happened, he would have to tell his commanding officer that the recruit had an aversion to protocol and could not be a sound investment.
“Surprisingly enough, I feel great now.” She replied, and looked over at him in time to see an expression on his face that resembled guilt and apprehension.
The look faded when he realized she was watching him and he nodded. “Didn’t I tell you I had just the thing for the sniffles?”
Before Buffy could reply, she heard her mother coming down the stairs and glanced at Riley apologetically. “My mom’s here.”
Riley had expected as much when he saw her car in the drive. It was actually perfect because now he would get a chance to meet her and see for himself that she was as normal as her daughter, something that the Initiative had to verify visually. “That’s fine.”
Joyce walked into the room slowly and glanced at the boy on the sofa. He was certainly handsome and exactly the type of boy that she had pictured Buffy with. Broad shouldered and fit, his presence dominated the small living room. As soon as he saw her, he stood and extended his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Summers. I’m Riley Finn.”
Joyce smiled up at him, loathing herself for finding him attractive. She had wanted to desperately dislike him the moment she laid eyes on him. “Hello, Riley. You can call me Joyce. Please, sit down.”
Riley complied and folded his hands in his lap as the woman took a seat across from him. This would be the part where she grilled him on what his major was and what he planned to do with his life. The few dates he had actually had were all the same in this respect.
Joyce cleared her throat and spoke, ignoring Buffy’s nods toward the door. “So, Riley, what’s your major?”
Grinning, he replied, “I’m majoring in Psychology. It’s really interesting and the courses are a constant challenge.”
“Do you want to be a psychologist?” Joyce asked.
“At first I did, but I became a teaching assistant last year and really enjoy that. I may be a Professor instead.” Riley chuckled and leaned back against the sofa. “I know the pay is a lot less but I think it would be more rewarding.”
“Are you the assistant in Buffy’s class?” Shifting in her seat, Joyce got comfortable, ready to keep him talking until she cracked him and he confessed his ill intentions.
“Yes, I am.”
Figuring she may as well crack Buffy while she was at it, Joyce nodded. “And how is my daughter doing in that class?”
“Mom!” Buffy’s mouth flew open and she shook her head. “I can’t believe you would ask that.”
“It’s okay.” Riley held his hand up. “She’s actually got one of the highest grades in the class right now. That could change though, if she doesn’t write a paper as good as her last one.” He turned toward Buffy and asked, “How is it going anyway?”
“It’s fine. I’m almost finished. And mom, Riley and I are going to watch a movie. Didn’t you have stuff to sew tonight for that Christmas pageant?”
Joyce reluctantly took the hint and nodded. “Actually, yes I do. I’ll just be upstairs ... with the door open.” She directed that final statement at Riley with a pointed glare.
“And we’ll be here. Watching movies.” Riley squirmed a little as the woman stood. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” She turned on her heel and made her way out of the room and up the stairs.
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Riley. She’s very over protective.”
“She should be.” Riley shrugged and pointed at the movies on the table. “Which one do you want to watch first?”
“G.I. Jane. I haven’t seen that one.” Standing up, Buffy grabbed the movie, slid it into the VCR, and then motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. She pulled a soda for him from the refrigerator and got them both glasses of ice. They made small talk while she waited for a bag of microwave popcorn to pop and then made their way back into the living room. She took a bottle of water and opened it, pouring it over the ice. “Thanks again for the water.”
“My pleasure.” Riley settled next to her on the sofa as the coming attractions started. She shifted a little, handing him the popcorn and he caught of whiff of her shampoo. It smelled like a garden, floral and rich, and just enticing enough to make you want to lean closer for a better whiff. He watched her profile in the light from the television, trying to picture her dirty and sweaty. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t imagine her wearing military fatigues. He stared at her dainty hand around her glass, taking in her painted nails, and wondered how she would adjust to the non-color policy. No jewelry, no make-up and absolutely nothing that could be considered a luxury was permitted as soon as you suited up.
The movie depicted a woman, Jane, who was permitted to train with the Navy Seals after a female Senator pulled a few strings. The bulk of the plot followed Jane as she underwent horrific training at the hands of the Master Chief, who wanted her to be a casualty to the sixty percent drop out rate. Buffy was vocal about her displeasure that Jane wasn’t treated as an equal even though she had proven time and again that she was. When Jane kept going, even in the face of adversity, Buffy cheered her on, saying that a woman should be allowed to do anything. Several times she said, 'If I was in her shoes I would-" and finished the sentence by telling how she would handle it.
Riley listened intently, his training taking over as he judged her reactions. It didn’t surprise him at all when Buffy freaked out over Demi Moore shaving her head but what did surprise him was her reaction to the ending. After a climax that involved Jane being beaten by several of the men, struggling to survive and eventually getting a small gift from the Master Chief, Buffy tossed her hands in the air and said, “Well, that was absolutely predictable.”
“What was?”
Buffy sighed and clicked rewind on the remote control. “Oh, just that they would have to spoil her moment by having that guy give her a book. She didn’ t need that book to know that she was a hero.”
Riley thought about that and said, “Well, maybe she did. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt satisfied without his nod of approval.”
“That’s not what being a true hero is all about. She didn’t need to know what he thought. That was stupid. Real heroism comes from inside, when you and you alone know what you’re doing to make a difference. Like Fright Night, for example. They go and kick demon ass just because it needs to be done. Not because they’ll get any attention for it.”
“Don’t you think it’s more rewarding to get attention?”
Buffy chewed her lower lip for a second and then shook her head. “If you do something just for the payoff then you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. A true hero is selfless.”
Riley nodded at her, watching as she ejected the movie, and put the next one in. This time, he didn’t pay any attention to her reactions to the film and enjoyed her company instead. As far as he was concerned, he had gotten what he came for.
She had passed the test based on her reaction to one film and, in his opinion, would not let her gender factor into her ability to be a team player. He also felt, based on what she had said, that she would be content to serve under a veil of discretion and not seek acclaim for her exploits and endeavors.
His mother would be so proud.
__
///
Buffy tossed and turned, the mask on her face cutting into her cheeks. She wondered how she was still alive and tried to pull her hands up to yank the contraption off, but she was tied up again.
Spike appeared over her suddenly, staring down at her. Her pleas were muffled and he cocked his head to one side and unsnapped the fasteners on the mask. “What was that you said, luv?”
Buffy gasped for air and sucked it into her lungs greedily. “I said to let me go.”
He shook his head and hopped up onto the table. Sitting beside her, he twirled a scarlet rose in his fingertips and sighed. “I don’t think so. I can’t help but think that you aren’t listening to me.”
“Yes I am!” She cried, flinging her head back against the metal table. “I know we’re on a theme here. Now you have ten days.”
He nodded and turned toward her. “And you aren’t doing anything, are you?”
"I’m trying to save you.”
“I told you how to save me!”
“You gave me a cryptic message, Spike. Something about finding roses! I found one, it’s in your hand!”
Spike crumpled the rose he was holding and leaped off the edge of the table. “You haven’t even looked for them. Don’t you understand that once you find the twelve roses, you’ll be where I am!”
“I give up!” Buffy shouted, trying unsuccessfully to kick her feet in frustration. “This is ridiculous!”
“Fine, you need me to be more specific? You’ll find me by going to the ceme- “
///
__
“Buffy? Buffy, honey? Wake up.” Joyce shook her several times, trying to pull her from whatever it was that was making her tremble so much.
“Mom?” Buffy sat up quickly and glanced around her surroundings. She was in the living room, lying on the sofa. The bear that Riley had given her was in her lap and their glasses were still on the coffee table, but he was no where to be seen. “Where’s Riley?”
“You fell asleep and he decided to go.” With a frown, Joyce tilted Buffy’s face up and stared at her intently. “I’m worried about you and about this whole situation.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Buffy hugged her quickly and said goodnight, promising to clean the mess the next day.
Alone in her room, Buffy changed clothes fast, slipping into solid black and tying her sneakers. She tossed a few weapons into her bag and threw it over her shoulder before she slipped through her bedroom window and dropped into the front yard.
It was time to find the roses.
__
Buffy decided to go to the cemetery nearest the campus since that had been the one she had frequented the most in recent months. The thought of the walk exhausted her, so she swiped her mother’s keys and drove the five miles, not worrying about her unlicensed status. When she arrived, she parked at a convenience store that was closed and scaled the fence easily, dropping to the other side with a slight thud. She began to make her way through the headstones, expecting to find a floral arrangement made of roses somewhere that held all the answers.
Whatever the answers were.
For nearly an hour, she scanned the area, hoping to find something, anything, which would indicate that she was in the right place. When she heard the church bells in town ring out that it was midnight, she shivered and gave up hope. Maybe going home and falling asleep would cause Spike to visit her dreams again and actually tell her something worthwhile. As the clock chimed the twelfth and final time, she paused. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, a name etched on a headstone.
Abigail Rose
With a small gasp, she walked toward the headstone, a large piece of decrepit marble with roses carved all over it. The one next to is bore the name, Samuel Rose and the one beside it said, Frances Rose. Buffy kept count and walked down the line. As suspected, there were twelve in a row. “Okay, Spike. I found the twelve Roses so now what?”
Glancing around the area closest to the Rose plots, Buffy noticed a crypt, small and just as drab as all the others. However, this one had a small red light on the top of it. It wasn’t on but it was there. Hefting her bag further up on her shoulder, she walked slowly toward it. Trying the handle, she sighed when she found it to be locked and turned, ready to find a rock to break through the window with.
What she saw shocked her. The twelfth Rose headstone was glowing at the base of the marble, a small red light illuminating just bright enough to cast the grass in a pinkish hue. It had not been shining until she tried the handle. Buffy dropped to her knees beside it and pulled the grass back. A little red button was blinking, almost completely covered by dirt and grass seed. Using a stake she had shoved up her jacket sleeve, she dug around it and exposed the button completely.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed it and expected to see commandos pop out of the ground all over the place. She heard a light click as the door behind her unlocked. Still kneeling, Buffy turned and stared at it, wondering if it would set off a silent alarm. She had no idea how advanced the organization was or what was inside and it made her tremble a little as she recalled being strapped down on the hospital stretcher and-
Rolling her eyes, she whispered, “You’re the Slayer! What are you so scared of? Just go in, check it out and leave. Is that so hard?”
She pulled a flashlight out of her bag and shoved extra batteries in the pocket of her coat. When she stood, she kicked the grass seed and dirt back over the tiny button and walked cautiously toward the door. Using the toe of her sneaker, she pushed it open and shined her light through. Nothing seemed amiss and she stepped inside, bracing the door enough to keep it from shutting with the stake she had.
The windows were stained and prevented anyone from seeing inside. As she scanned the area, she could see why. There were no coffins here. A burlap sack sat in one corner, half full of something she wasn’t interested in seeing and there was a riding lawn mower parked in the middle of the floor. “Great. I broke into the tool shed. I came to kill the weed-wacker.”
She coughed, the dust aggravating her congestion and slammed her hand against her chest. Steadying the flashlight against the lawnmower's hood, she opened her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. As she brought it to her lips, something scurried above her and fell onto her shoulder, causing her to drop the bottle. She didn’t scream, years of practice had pretty much deadened that reflex. Instead, Buffy grabbed it, flinging it across the room. The rat glared at her, looking hurt, before it vanished behind the sack. Snarling her lip in disgust, she started to turn and leave, then cocked her head.
She could hear her water. It was pouring out of the bottle and dropping into something under the building. Pressing her stomach to the ground, she lay flat beside the mower and shined her light. “A-ha!”
Directly beneath the shiny green contraption was a sewer grate. She pulled herself to her knees, debating how to move the lawnmower. If she took the time to push it through the doors, she would make a ton of noise and make it obvious to anyone who happened by that someone had tampered with the area. Stretching her arms over her head, she stood and glanced skyward. “I’ve been really good, Lord. Well, not good in the classic sense, maybe, because I know that one night stand with Parker was a big rule book no-no, but I’ve been punished. Let me have a good old shot of Slayer strength here. Please, let one thing go right.”
Leaning against the front of the mower, she gritted her teeth, straining to move it aside just enough to let her fit through. When it only moved a few inches, she swore a little and moved around it, gripping it right above the tire. Buffy pulled with all her strength, her feet slipping on the ground and her arms protesting the weight. Finally, she worked it aside enough to shimmy though and stood, stretching and trying to work out the kinks. “I am never doing that again. Oww.”
Buffy grabbed her water bottle and pulled it to her lips, relishing the few remaining drops before she tossed it and tugged the grate open. Hanging upside down, she poked her head through and scanned the tunnel. It was definitely one of the Initiative’s tunnels and not sewage. There was no water, except what had spilled out of her bottle. It was also completely dark; no lights were on except for her flashlight.
She pulled back up and grabbed a rope from her bag. Knotting one end securely around the lawnmower, she dropped the other one inside. Just in case she needed to make a swift getaway; she’d be able to climb. Buffy shoved her arms through her backpack and grabbed the grate, pulling it back over the hole as she lowered herself. One end wouldn’t go down because of the rope but that was as the best she could do and it was concealed by the lawnmower on that side anyway, just in case a gatekeeper made rounds and checked inside the shed.
Trying to remember what Willow had said about the Initiative digging up the road a few miles from the campus, she decided to go east, toward school ground and see what happened. Several flights of stairs led her further and further underground, until the air was so cold that she could see her breath in front of her face. It felt like she had walked forever before she came to a juncture. Killing her light, she closed her eyes, trying to reach out with her senses for anything demonic. Usually, the hair on the back of her neck would stand up when something was near. Feeling nothing, she resorted to Eeny-Meenie-Miney-Moe and chose right.
After walking through more tunnel that looked exactly the same, she groaned and checked her watch. “How can it already be two am?”
Picking up the pace, she made her way to another juncture and felt an odd sense of dread. Her flashlight flickered and shut off and she dug for more batteries, hoping against hope that she hadn’t gone in a circle. It took her a second to realize that the corridor to her left was fully illuminated. She fumbled with her batteries, changing them quickly and pocketing the old ones.
Something clanked down that path and she froze. If there was something in the tunnel with her, she had no place to hide and would be forced to confront it head on. She could make out faint voices and put a hand to her mouth, trying to decide what to do. There was another clank and something roared, loud and fiercely, almost making her cry out from the pain in her ears.
She dared a peek around the opening and saw a large pulsating glob chained to a wall. Directly above it, there was an opening covered with bars that someone, a someone with human hands, was dropping food through. The thing screamed again, grabbing for the bloody scraps and Buffy heard a man say, “If you don’t knock it off, we’ll just let you starve.”
“Nooo!” The demon squealed, tugging against the chains as it buried what appeared to be a face into something that looked like a ribcage. As soon as it leaned forward, Buffy got a view of the rest of the tunnel. All the way down the narrow area, there were demons changed to the walls. Some looked half dead, not responding to the food, and some were leaping against their chains angrily. Others were eating noisily, sloppily, their bodies making sucking sounds as they digested their meals.
Cringing when the thing closest to her bit the ribcage in two, she dared dart past that opening toward the next one. The squishy demon stopped what it was doing and bellowed, “What that? What that?”
Buffy pressed herself against the wall, fully expecting to be caught, and breathed a sigh of relief when a human voice shouted. “I said knock it off!”
The next tunnel wasn’t lit, save for a little light filtering through the overhead openings. She made her way slowly, carefully, wondering if any of the demons had ever gotten loose. Even if she was tiny, she’d make a great appetizer for a starving demon. Staying firm against the wall, she kept out of the light, not really knowing what she was searching for.
“I don’t care.” Someone shouted and Buffy saw a shadow move across one of the patches of light above her. “Riley, you just said that it is your opinion that she is a good candidate.”
“I know what I said, but you don’t understand. Buffy is small. Way smaller than what the minimum requirements are and she’s a girl, ma. She shouldn’t be having to do this.” Riley’s voice was strong and Buffy grinned, proud of herself for getting here and eavesdropping.
“We’ve already discussed this, Riley.” Professor Walsh slammed Buffy’s folder onto her desk and thumbed through it. “Now, she’s got a rather colorful background, which I have already begun erasing, so that won't be an obstacle. By the time she becomes fully functional in the ranks, she will have a pristine police record.”
Buffy perked and made a ‘yes’ motion with her hand, then grew calm as she listened to Walsh continue. “I’ll also see to it that the computers recognize her as one of us and keep her grade point average up. There will be nothing to indicate that she is doing anything abnormal and even if she becomes overwhelmed, she’ll never have below a 3.6 G.P.A.”
The Slayer couldn’t stop the little dance that erupted from her body. This was just too amazing. If only the council could give benefits like this, maybe she wouldn’t have fired them. She realized what she was doing after several seconds and stopped, feeling like a fool, but the smile remained on her face.
Riley spoke again, “I just don’t like it. It makes absolutely no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense, son. You’re in love with her and I want you to be happy. You’re always telling me that you can’t have a normal relationship with a normal girl and I’ve never seen anyone with as much potential to succeed as Buffy Summers. You saw her fight the other night. I’d be willing to bet she has a third degree blackbelt. The solution is perfect.”
“I don’t want her here because I’m in love with her mother. I want her here because she wants to be here and can get excited about our goal.” Riley spoke hatefully, cruelly, but it didn’t soften the way his admission affected Buffy. It felt like someone had punched her right in the chest and she had to prop herself against the wall. –He’s in love with me? He really wasn’t faking about being concerned about me. Shit. Oh shit. And he *was* there! Shit.--
“Riley, if she comes down and doesn’t like it, we’ll simply zap her memory and send her back home.”
Buffy narrowed her eyes. There would definitely be no memory zapping happening anytime around her. That was so b-rated movie anyway. Who in their right mind would zap a memory besides Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones? –Note to self,- she thought. –Find and destroy memory zapping device.—
“Don’t make it too hard on her. She’s been sick.” Riley said sadly, clearly giving in.
“I’m willing to forfeit some of the more arduous tasks that a new recruit must complete. But for the most part, I’m going to test her the exact same way.”
“I hate this!” Riley shouted.
“I have work to do with Hostile Seventeen. You know his chip will be diffusing on the eighteenth?”
“I know.”
“I think he’s rather fascinating. He isn’t like other vampires and I intend to find out why.” Walsh stood and picked up a file labeled ‘seventeen’.
“You can always install a new chip if you don’t get your answers by then.”
“Certainly not.” Walsh replied, staring at him like he had hatched a vampire through his forehead. “I don’t break protocol just because I get curious. You know better than that.”
"You're breaking protocol to let Buffy in."
"Don't you dare-!"
“Fine, whatever.”
“Make sure you lock my office when you leave.” Maggie instructed angrily.
“I’m leaving now.” His responses had grown clipped and lacked inflection. Letting his mother win had always been the only way to handle a situation and this wasn’t going to be the exception. He would just have to see to it that Buffy's needs were met, no matter what the cost.
Buffy listened to the sounds of a door shutting and smiled. There was a way to escape in Walsh’s office. Maybe it wouldn’t be that hard to get Spike and drop him through the bars. Together, they could make a mad dash to safety and Willow could figure out what the new chip meant and how to do it. Further down the corridor, another light blinked on and Buffy silently moved toward it.
She was almost directly under it when she heard Spike shout, “Oh, Bloody hell! It’s you again! Didn’t you get enough last time? I was sleeping.”
“I figured you’d be used to keeping the vampire’s hours by now.” Walsh replied.
“Well who could know what time it is cooped up in this hell-hole?” He crossed his arms and slumped in the chair across from the woman.
Parallel to him, a feet feet below, Buffy was staring upward, willing him to keep talking so she could hear that he was okay. Walsh spoke again, saying, “How old are you?”
“Eight hundred and eighty two.” Spike replied, matter of factly.
“I don’t believe you. Vampires who are that old begin to physically change.”
“Well, my dick got a lot bigger over the years.”
Maggie clucked her tongue and repeated her question. “How old are you?”
“I just gave you the answer in dog years. You treat me like a dog. You figure it up.” He replied. Buffy smiled and closed her eyes, picturing what he must be doing. She imagined he would be twirling something in his fingertips, scowling at Walsh and trying his best to intimidate her.
“Tell me in human years.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Do I need to get the box again?”
“Oh, sod it all! I’m one hundred and twenty-six. What’s the matter, are you people to daft to do the math?” Spike shouted, grinding the heel of his boot into the floor. Playing twenty questions had gotten old the first night he had played and now he wanted to sleep. Sleeping was the only thing that made it bearable.
“Do you remember who sired you?”
“Oh, no. I repressed it because he’s the biggest arse who ever nanced about.”
“Is he still alive?” Maggie asked, putting a tape recorder next to the vampire.
“To my knowledge, he has not been alive for over two hundred years.”
"Then how did he sire you?"
"He'd have to be dead to sire me, you ninny!"
Maggie rubbed her forehead. “I don’t enjoy talking in circles with you.”
“Then stop chasing your tail. I have no interest in telling you about me because as soon as I do, you will kill me.”
“To my knowledge, you have not been alive for one hundred and twenty six years. I can’t kill what’s already dead.” Replied Maggie, not bothering to hide her smile as the man’s face contorted with rage.
“Oh, that’s fucking brilliant. I’ll teach you to mock me!” He grabbed her tape recorder and tossed it. It slid through the bars on the floor and crashed a few feet from Buffy. “What about that then?”
Maggie didn’t stop smiling and watched as one of the guards stepped forward and hit Spike hard against the side of the head. Spike howled out, pain mingled with fury and turned, already imagining the sound of the guard’s neck popping. As soon as he reached for the man, something triggered in his head and it felt like his scalp would blow off.
Buffy dropped to her knees in the tunnel as she heard his screams turn to broken pleas and apologies. Clapping her hands over her ears, she shook her head, tears streaming down her face and she whispered the same thing over and over. “Hold on, Spike. Hold on. Hold on, Spike. Hold on. Hold on, Spike. Hold on. Hold on, Spike. Hold on.”
It was some time later before she realized the room above her had gone dark and had been that way for a while. She stood slowly, absently brushing the tears off and looked at the broken tape recorder. Buffy debated taking the tape, then figured if Maggie sent someone to retrieve it, she would wonder how it wound up missing.
Moving solemnly and not really caring if she got caught at that point, she walked past the opening of the demon tunnel. The obese demon glared at her, it’s pulpy eye glistening as it blinked. “What that? What that?”
By the time she navigated the tunnels and found her rope, she was sobbing again, the pitiful sounds bouncing off the walls. She had never felt more alone or more desperate to end Spike's pain. As she pulled herself up and pushed the grate aside, Buffy the Vampire Slayer made a vow to herself.
She was going to take Maggie Walsh’s son away from her and make her hurt as much as Spike had hurt. By the time she finished, Riley would be eating out of the palm of her hand and would help her go against the Initiative. He was already taken with her, apparently he thought he was in love with her, so how hard could it be? Gaining an ally on the inside, one who knew the ropes, would give her an edge. If she knew Riley at all, and she felt like she did, he would protect her at all costs and see to it that she was happy. It was his way.
No matter what she had to do, she would see to it the Maggie’s whole organization crumbled and fell.
Buffy would be the last recruit the Initiative ever saw.
Sunnydale was only big enough for one demon hunter.
__
Xander flipped the light on and glared at Anya, who was straddling his legs. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he watched her peel her shirt over her head and said, “How did you get in here?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to screw. Wasn’t that made apparent by my exposed boobs?” Anya wriggled her hips and beamed at him, holding her hands up. “And look, I don’ t have a screwdriver.”
Xander looked at the clock and flopped his head back against the pillow. He had been having an absolutely wonderful dream where he was Keanu Reeves in Speed and Sandra Bullock was driving the bus with no clothes on. “It’s almost four in the morning!”
“Your boner can slam into my soggy, er …” Trying not to appear obvious, she glanced at the words she had scrawled in the palm of her hand. “beef curtains.”
“Beef curtains?”
“Would you prefer beaver? Aren’t you excited? This is a booty call!”
Xander sat up and pulled her hand around, staring at it intently. “I see you mastered the ‘B’ section of the slang book.”
“Does that arouse you? Wanna bang me? Boink me? Bash me with the bell end of your big one until you blow your wad?”
“No, pretty much all I want to do is sleep.” Xander let go of her hand and laid back on the bed again. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Between the things she blurted out and her insatiable appetite, she was going to be the death of him. It was a toss up, die from Anya induced humiliation or die from a sexually induced heart attack. At this point, he was leaning toward humiliation as being the less painful alternative. “I’m sleepy. Tired. Exhausted. Broken down and put away.”
Anya poked her lower lip out and said, “That’s fine. I can give you a blow job.”
He gripped the sheets as she wrenched his boxers down and began to use her mouth in ways he couldn’t begin to resist. His eyes rolled back in his head as she slowed to a stop, giggling at his frustration. Moaning, he gripped her and rolled, pinning her under his body, “You win.”
“That’s a good boy. Now I’m going to slap your ass and call you my bitch while we bounce the bed.” Anya hit him hard as he entered her and threw her head against the pillow. “That’s it, you bastard.”
Xander almost went completely soft as soon as she said it. “Bastard?”
“Doesn’t that mean big hairy animal?”
“No, I think that’s a bear and it’s still not endearing.” Xander shook his head, intent on finishing so she would let him sleep. “Let’s play the quiet game.”
For several seconds, she was completely quiet and nothing could be heard except for their heavy breathing. Xander used that to his advantage and concentrated hard, forcing himself to come as fast as he could.
He rolled to his back and Anya nestled into the crook of his arm. “This is better than fornicating.”
“God help us all.”