Chapter 17



“Did it work?” Buffy asked eagerly as she greeted her friends at the door, quickly ushering them in and closing it behind her before any prying eyes could see any further into the house.

“Time will tell. If Quentin is having us watched for some purpose, then you can be sure that we will know within the next twenty-four hours. The man’s like a bull in a china shop, no subtly what-so-ever.” Giles shook his head disdainfully as he walked directly into the living room, placing the tome that held the prophecy in the middle of the table.

“And if it did work?” Willow queried as she took up position on one of the couches, perching precariously on the edge in a move reminiscent of her emotional state. She felt like she had been running on high alert ever since Buffy had first gone missing. Down time was few and far between and even her sleep was fitful at best.

Angelus gave her the willies. He had been one of them, part of their group and he knew what made them tick, yet what did they know about him but what they had learned in the history books? His behaviour didn’t match anything that she had read in her hunt to find out everything about him that she could, which only led her to the disturbing conclusion that he wasn’t playing with the full deck yet.

She shut her eyes as the memory of Buffy’s battered and bruised body when she had first returned to them danced across her mind’s eye. She didn’t want to see the full deck. He had to be stopped before then.

“Then it will be as we discussed last night. Anything they transmit will show the same footage on a continuous loop of us going about our everyday lives. If we had had more time to refine the spell we might have been able to adjust the images—unfortunately they’ll catch on after while that they are merely repeating themselves but hopefully it will buy as a little more time” Giles said in a grave tone as he removed his glasses from his face and began polishing them.

“Do we know what the Council want, yet?” Buffy asked just as Spike entered the room. His hair was still sleep tousled and his feet were bare as he made his way over to the spare seat with a mug of warm blood that Joyce had bought for him.

Buffy watched as he easily folded himself into it with a supernatural grace and found herself having to fight back the blush that was threatening to stain her cheeks pink as thoughts of how she had touched herself before going to sleep that morning surfaced in her mind. In that moment she was glad that she no longer had a heart beat to betray her sudden burst of excitement.

Unfortunately she could do nothing to stop the scent of her arousal permeating the air. She watched as Spike paused, his cup stoping midway to his mouth as he turned his head slightly and sniffed the air. Buffy’s blush came roaring back full force as she looked away from his questioning gaze cursing his heightened sense of smell which was able to so easily detect her arousal.

She shut her eyes tightly as a knowing smirk spread over his lips and she forced herself to listen to what her Watcher was saying.

“I can only assume that their interests stem from this,” he said, passing the translated prophecy towards her. “I haven’t yet been able to discern what it is they intend to do. The first two lines speak of the birth of the demon used to create the First Slayer again from that of evil, which is essentially what has occurred when Angelus tried to turn you; however, I have been less successful in determining what the rest means.” Buffy looked over the notes with a frown, wondering why it was that they always had to talk in riddles.

“Give me a look,” Spike said as he placed his mug on the table and reached across for the note pad. Giles gave him a peculiar look but passed it across to him.

“Let’s see what you make of it, dead boy,” Xander said with a sneer as he watched the vampire scan the prophecy.

“It looks like it’s talking about what to expect from the Slayer. It says Shantari will arise once more and then the next line says Power unmatched and untamed, so I guess you could take it as Shantari—which I’m guessin’ is you—” he said glancing up at the Slayer quickly before looking back down at the notes, “her power in this new form will be unmatched and uncontrollable. Then the two next lines: Fatal in its magnitude, unless bound by mind and heartcould mean that unless a binding ritual or some such rot is done, the extent of the power could prove to be fatal—to the Slayer, I’m thinking. Power shared, and swiftly tamed might refer to when the binding ritual is done and the power is shared between the Slayer and the other being, which stabilises it. Controlled by none, yet wielded through love meaning the Slayer doesn’t control the power by herself, but has access to it together with the one to whom she is bound.”

The group looked suitably stunned by the time Spike had finished his deduction. He smirked as he passed the pad back to the Watcher, who looked as though he had just been slapped across the face.

“That was quite remarkable.” Spike shot him a smug look and leaned back into his seat, propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him.

“Spent over a century living with an insane psychic, mate. You learn to speak in riddles.” Giles shook himself and began scribbling down notes. Buffy let out a small growl at the mention of Spike’s sire, which Spike ignored. “Is that the entire prophecy?”

“It’s as much as I have translated. You don’t happen to be able to read ancient Amharic by any chance?” Spike chuckled at the Watcher’s hopeful look.

“Not a lick,” he said, reclaiming his mug.

“So I’m going to have to do some sort of binding ritual with someone so I don’t die from the extent of my new powers?” Buffy asked slowly, scrunching her nose in confusion. “What new powers? I’m just stronger and faster.”

“And you glow,” Oz said in his usual monotone

“And you have this strange thrall thing over vampires,” Cordy added in a bored voice as she flipped her hair over her shoulders.

“Plus you look really cool when you go all ‘grr.’” Buffy smiled at Willow’s comment.

“Truth is, we haven’t any idea what your new powers entail. If you would perhaps consent to some tests—” Giles started, the allure of being able to study Buffy too much for even him to be able to resist. He cut himself off however, at the look she gave him and turned back to his notes. “Unfortunately, I have come across no reference as to with whom this binding ritual is to occur, but if what Spike has deciphered is correct, then we may not have much time. You have been turned—for lack of a better term—for a little over a week now.”

“Well, how will we know?” Xander asked, suddenly serious at the prospect that his friend might once again be in a life threatening situation.

“I will have to finish the prophecy before we can be sure of anything. Nothing is set in stone at this point,” Giles said tiredly as his eyes scanned over each member of the group assembled.

“So, what do we do until then?” Willow asked quietly.

“There’s nothing you can do at this point Willow, not until I have finished translating the prophecy.”

Buffy worried her bottom lip as she shot a quick look at her Watcher.

“I’m going to head out and do a quick patrol.” She saw the objection rising on her Watcher’s lips and rushed to intercept it, but it was the vampire who voiced his objections first.

“Not so sure that’s such a good idea, pet. Especially if you’ve got Angelus gunning for you—and you’re not exactly on Dru’s good side at the moment either.” Buffy shot him a dark look.

“She deserved everything she got. She got away didn’t she?” Spike stifled his chuckle at her obvious jealousy over his sire. Maybe the chit felt something for him after all.

“No needed to get your knickers in a bunch. I never said she didn’t. Only with Angelus and Drusilla after you, going out isn’t exactly the smartest move.” Buffy glared at him and shot up out of her seat to stand over him.

“So I’m just meant to sit here? Tucked up inside my safe little house with my friends and family while they are out there killing innocents and biding their time? This situation isn’t just going to go away. Sooner or later a confrontation is inevitable.”

“Spike’s right.” Buffy’s eyes went wide and she spun around to pin her glare on her Watcher. “Not only that, but there is also the Council to think about. We don’t know what they have planned with you yet.”

“Exactly!” Buffy said, gesturing wildly. “If I’m out there not only can I kill off some of Angel minions but I can beat up Willy the snitch and see what he knows. I might be able to find out a little something about what the Council is up to, or if they’re in town yet.” She could tell that she wasn’t getting anywhere with him. “Giles, I can’t just keep sitting here, waiting for you to translate some prophecy that is going to tell me I’m gonna die again while I could be out there saving lives. I’m not helpless, and I’m sick of sitting around here waiting for things to happen. It’s not my style.”

Giles stared at her for a long moment before finally heaving a deep breath and nodding his consent. “Very well, I trust that you won’t do anything rash.”

Buffy smiled, shaking her head vigorously. “Check, nothing rash.”

“You’re gonna give up? Just like that?” Spike yelled. Giles sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, Spike. I am.” Spike turned his glare on the Slayer and Buffy gave him a smug smirk.

“I’m coming with you,” he growled out, getting up from the couch and stalking out of the room to get his jacket and shoes.

“What? I don’t need a babysitter you know,” she said, trailing after him as he stomped down the stairs to the basement.

“It’s not about you needing a sitter, Slayer. It’s about keeping you alive,” he replied, without looking back at her.

Buffy bristled at the implication in his comment. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

“No,” he said, fighting hard for control. She could be bloody well infuriating when she wanted to, “but I think you have a weak spot when it comes to Angel.”

Her eyes went wide with disbelief and barely controlled anger. Angel had been her everything—the fairytale, her lover and protector—but everything she had suffered under Angelus’ hand had been done wearing Angel’s face while he mocked her with fake works of love and sympathy.

It didn’t matter what she had ever been told about Angelus and Angel being two completely different vampires because of the soul that inhabited Angel’s body. She knew the truth. Angelus was a part of Angel, and Angel was a part of the animal that had so brutally tortured her. The man who had gotten off on her shrieks of pain, and screamed and laughed right along with her as he begged her to beg him to stop.

Spike had heard it happen. He had been wheelchair bound in the same house, unable—unwilling?—to do anything to stop what was happening. Could he really believe that she was still able to love Angel on some level? That she still held a weak spot for him in the hopes that his soul might be restored and they could forget that Angelus ever happened?

Angel and Angelus had become the same person in her mind. The soul was just the chain that bound the dog to the kennel, forcing him to feel guilt for his crimes. Angelus had opened her eyes, and she felt she was truly seeing Angel for the first time.

“A weak spot! You honestly believe after everything he has done to me that I could still have a weak spot for that sadistic bastard? That I still might care for him?” she practically spat at him, her anger was seething at the thought that he might believe that.

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at her misinterpretation of what he was trying to say.

“No, I honestly believe that it’s because of all he’s done to you that you have a weak spot concerning him. You don’t think clearly when it comes to Angelus, and it is something he can—and will—use to his advantage. It has nothing to do with you being physically weak or still loving the Poof— it’s all about your mental strength. The bastard’s a master at mental torture, and if you let this affect you personally you’ll end up dead!” Spike was being blunt and he knew it. But she had an annoying habit of immediately becoming defensive and missing the point when the conversation was turned in her direction and he wasn’t going to let her twist what he was trying to say.

“This is personal and nothing anyone can do will change that,” she remarked quietly, as if the fight had suddenly drained out of her as she struggled to hold back the tears that were stubbornly welling in her eyes. Spike’s eyes softened and he took a step towards her, running a comforting hand down the outside of her arm.

“I know that, pet. That’s why I’m coming with you, gotta make sure nothing happens to you.” She dropped her eyes to the ground and nodded quickly. He bent down quickly and finished lacing his boots and grabbed his coat from the small cot. “Ready to go, luv?” She nodded again and together they made their way out of the basement.

The living room was strangely quiet as they made their way through the house. A quick look at her friends told Buffy all she needed to know—they had heard everything that had gone on in the basement and were trying hard to pretend they hadn’t. A small smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head gently and followed Spike out the door.

Chapter 18



“Sir? She’s been spotted leaving the house.” Quentin Travers immediately sat up in his seat, his full attention on the scratchy voice coming through the long distance call from America.

“And?” he prompted, barely containing the excitement in his voice.

“It looks like she’s headed out on patrol. A blond haired man is accompanying her. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, sir.” The small pit of excitement that had flared somewhere in his stomach at the news dimmed slightly.

“Tail her. Don’t let her know you are following her. The second she does something out of the ordinary—and I mean the very second she does—I want her captured and taken to our safe house.”

“And what of the man, sir?” Travers hesitated for only a second.

“Kill him. The last thing we need is Rupert Giles on our blood trail because we leave one for him to follow,” He replied, doing nothing to conceal his contempt for the current Slayer’s Watcher.

“Consider it done.” A small sadistic smile curved its way over Travers’ mouth. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

***

The Watcher disconnected from his call with the head of the Watcher’s Council and turned towards his men.

“Spread out and tail her. If you see anything out of the ordinary, then Travers wants her contained and taken to the safe house. She’s not just a little girl, she’s the Slayer, so be prepared for her to fight till the end. Shoot only to incapacitate, not to kill. However, the man with her can be taken out.” The five men surrounding him nodded before melting into their surroundings and following the Slayer’s trail.

***

A shot cut through the night effortlessly, and a dull thud could be heard as the bullet embedded itself in its target. A hitched breath and a small cry of pain sounded as the Slayer stumbled slightly and hit the ground.

“BUFFY!” She lifted her head and shot a quick look back over her shoulder, in the direction from which the shot had come.

“I’m fine,” she managed to ground out through gritted teeth as she fought to keep the tears that were threatening to spill down her face at bay. “Help me up. We can’t go back to the house until we’ve lost them.”

“Where’d they get you?” Spike said as he reached a hand out and pulled her to her feet.

“Just the leg, I’ll be fine. We have to keep going.” Blood was oozing sluggishly from the wound on her calf near the outside of her leg and only about four inches below the joint of her knee.

“You sure you can walk?” The response he received was a quick nod of her head and a shove in the back to get him moving.

“We don’t have time. Quickly!” Spike looked at her unconvinced but he moved away from her side where she was subconsciously leaning her weight on him to support herself. The moment his support was gone and her full weight was placed on her leg, she cried out and began to overbalance.

“’Fine’, she says. You can’t even bloody well walk!” Without waiting for her response, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms. “Where to?”

She didn’t even try to fight him as she squeezed her eyes shut to try and keep from wailing like a child at the pain that was radiating from her leg. “The school, head for the library.”

***

“Does it usually take this long?”

“What?” Giles asked in a mildly annoyed tone at being interrupted. His demeanour softened and turned some what apologetic when his eyes fell on Buffy’s mother. “Oh, well yes. Translating a prophecy can sometimes take days. A lot of these ancient languages have hundreds of different symbols and characters, most of which have multiple meanings that make things highly difficult when translating texts. Ancient Amharic can be particularly difficult when—.”

“No,” she interrupted, cutting across him with no hint of embarrassment. She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead her gaze was trained on the window behind his head. “Buffy and Spike. They’ve been gone for hours. I was asking whether it usually took this long to patrol.”

Giles slipped his glasses off his face and turned to look out the window. It was still dark out, but some hours had definitely passed while he had emersed himself into translating the prophecy. A faint dirty yellow glow could be seen poking out of the horizon in the distance that signalled the approaching morning as it began to burn away the darkness of the night.

A quick glance at the clock told him that the sun would indeed be up in just a little over an hour.

“I know Buffy thought I was oblivious to all her sneaking out,” Joyce continued, her gaze finally coming to rest on the Watcher, “but I would hear her some nights—leaving and returning at all hours of the morning. But she was never gone for more than two, sometimes three hours at most. They’ve been gone almost all night.”

Giles felt his own worries ignited along with the feeling of guilt that he had been so immersed in his books that he hadn’t noticed the hour, or his Slayer’s continued absence. He schooled his features, however, to look unconcerned as he moved to reassure Joyce.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Joyce. Buffy is extremely capable—she’s the best Slayer I have seen—it’s likely that they just got as carried away with time as I have and are on their way home this minute.” He tried to offer her a smile but it fell flat, just as his words had. He could tell she wasn’t buying a word he was saying.

“Maybe,” she said in a noncommittal voice as her gaze moved back to the window and the ever increasing glow on the horizon.

***

“Ouch! Oh god that hurts!” Spike winced as he laid the Slayer out on the table in the centre of the library.

“Sorry, pet. Got to put you down while I call the Watcher.” Buffy nodded stiffly as she clenched her jaw against the pain, knowing that if she broke down now she wouldn’t be able to stop, and they were in no way out of the woods yet. “Where’s the phone, love?”

“Office.” Spike nodded and quickly walked into the office. Finding the phone easily enough he quickly rattled through the draws looking for an address book, something—anything—that might list the Slayer’s number.

“Fuck,” he swore when he came up empty handed. “Slayer, what’s your home number?” he asked as he stuck his head back out through the office door. Shit, she was unconscious. “Bloody hell, will you cut me some slack?” he growled to himself.

Walking back over to the phone again he picked it up, hesitating only for a moment before he hit redial. He waited impatiently as it redialled the previously called number and began ringing.

“Hello?” Hope flared somewhere within him at the sound of a female voice.

“Joyce?” he asked with anticipation. If this was the wrong number then he was screwed.

“Yes? Spike, is that you?” He shut his eyes and sent a silent thank you to whoever was listening.

“Yeah, it’s me. Is the Watcher there, love?” He heard some shuffling and some mumbled talking before the Watcher was put on the phone.

“Spike?” The blond vampire almost chuckled at the mixture of anxiousness and perplexity in the Brit’s voice.

“Listen, mate, we’re at the school. Sun’s up and things got a little hairy last night with a few of your Council buddies. Slayer got shot in the leg.”

“Good lord, is she alright?” It was proof Spike was spending too much time around the Slayer and her chums when he could picture Giles removing his glasses and polishing them with absolute clarity. He frowned and shook himself out of the disturbing thought as he heard the Watcher’s voice again. “Spike?”

“She’ll be fine. Leg’s a bit sore at the moment I’d wager, but she’ll be right in no time—bleedings already slowing.”

“What do you intend to do then?”

Spike furrowed his eyebrows and glanced back out the door at the still unconscious Slayer. She’d still be out of it for a while.

“We’ll probably hold up here for a bit and give her a chance to heal and then make our way back through the sewers a bit later on today. We won’t be safe here for too long.”

“What happened?” The question was asked by a concerned parent rather than the trained Watcher he knew the man to be and he knew that getting into details now over the phone wasn’t the best idea.

“We’ll fill you in when we get home, yeah? See if you can’t do something about putting up a few more wards on the house, something that will keep the Council out. We tried to lead them away from there but they’re bound to have someone watching it by now. It’d be best if the Slayer and I could be able to disappear altogether for a time when we arrive through the sewer entrance outside the house, figuratively speaking of course.” Spike waited silently to see if Giles had picked up the hint.

“I’ll see what we can do.” Giles’ tone was thoughtful, but Spike was confident he had understood the message. As long as they weren’t seen entering the house then the occupants inside should be safe for the moment.

No goodbyes were said as the two men disconnected the call without another word being spoken between them.

Spike wasted no more time snooping as he picked up the extensive first aid kit he had come across in the desk’s bottom drawer and walked back out to the Slayer’s unconscious form.

As gently as he could, Spike rolled Buffy’s prone body over before pushing up the leg of her pants, so that he could get to the wound. He set the medical kit on the table and took out a pair of tweezers. They were the kind that you usually used to get small slivers of wood out of fingers—the kind of splinters she probably got hundreds of from her stakes. He winced, they would have to do.

Checking once more to make sure she was still out for the count, he bent over her leg to inspect the small wound before moving the tweezers in as gently as possible. Buffy groaned loudly as the tweezers bumped the end of the bullet, but she did not wake up. Slowly, Spike managed to grab hold of the end of the foreign object and little by little started to ease it out. He wriggled it back and forth as gently as possible, and it began to work its way out of the tight sheath it had created for itself in the fleshy tissue and muscle of her leg.

Once it was free, he quickly dropped the bloodstained piece of metal on the table and pulled out an extra piece of gauze as the wound began to bleed again. Spike held the bandage firmly to Buffy’s leg with one hand as the other searched through the contents of the small box for something with which to tape it down.

“Just lick it.” His surprised face shot up to meet her own conscious face.

“What?” Another small groan left her lips as he jostled her leg slightly. “Sorry.”

“Lick it. Your salvia seals wounds, right? So lick it.” Spike looked down at the piece of gauze he was holding to her leg, already soaked through with her thick blood. The smell of it was perfuming the air heavily, a fact that he had been able to ignore up until now. For a moment everything else fell away and all he could see was her wound, bleeding freely through tunnel vision.

God, did he want to lick it. He was hungry—not having finished his mug of pig swill before they left to patrol—but she had already lost so much blood. The last thing she needed was for him to lose control at the taste of it and take even more of the precious substance than she could afford to lose at that moment.

“Will you just lick the damn wound! We don’t have much time and the longer you wait the more blood I’m losing.” Spike stared at her for a long moment before finally caving in with a tight nod. He bent down and gently slipped his free hand under her leg to steadily it as he removed the soiled gauze from the wound. He let his nose trail above it for a moment, drawing in her scent before quickly darting his tongue out and running it slowly over the wound, staunching the flow of blood and sealing it off.

Buffy let out a low moan as the throbbing pain in her leg became a pleasant tingling of awareness. She felt his tongue run over the wound once more before a soft kiss was placed on the smooth skin behind her knee.

“Spike?”

“Better?” He asked, straightening up again and fighting to put away his demon that had surged forward at the first hint of her blood against his tongue.

She blushed lightly and sat herself up on the table. “Much better, go us and our Slayer and Vampire healing powers!” she said, offering him a small smile. They were both silent for a moment and she took the time to test her leg.

“No need to rush, pet. Told the Watcher that we’d be on our way once I’d patched you up and that Slayer healing had a chance to work.” Buffy nodded as she gently placed some of her weight onto her leg.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Just a slight tugging feeling,” she remarked as she turned to clean up their mess.

“It’ll hurt more later on if you don’t rest it now though,” Spike replied as he leaned his weight against the table and watched Buffy as she put things away. Buffy shrugged off his concern.

“I’ll be fine. The important thing now is we get out of here so we can talk to Giles about what’s going on. Did he say anything more about the prophecy?” she queried, limping back into the office with the medical kit under her arm. “Spike?” she prompted when she got no response from him.

The Slayer frowned as he didn’t answer her once more and stuck her head back out the door to see what he was up to. Fear lanced through her at the sight with which she was greeted.

“Buffy, so glad you could join us.”

Chapter 19
A/N: Taken liberties with the events that happened before Buffy’s calling as a Slayer and assignment to the Hellmouth


Buffy took a cautious step forward. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and fixed on the man before her. She felt paralysed, unable to comprehend his presence or the malevolent smile which twisted his usually kind face.

“What…” Her mouth continued to work even as no more sound left her lips. The man gave her a mockingly saccharine smile at her apparent speechlessness and pointedly let his eyes trail across to Spike, who hung a foot in the air unable to move due to the magic that bound his body before sliding his gaze back to her.

Buffy let her gaze flit back to the vampire quickly taking in his captive state before shock won out again and dragged her gaze back to the man before her.

“What? No hug, sweetheart? I’m disappointed,” he stated, his overly sincere tone belying the smirk that twisted his lips “I thought you’d be glad to see me again, Buffy.”

Buffy felt the sting of tears rise unbidden to her eyes and she blinked furiously to push them back. This couldn’t be happening—not now, not ever! “Come now, you’re a big girl now and big girls don’t cry.”

She clenched her teeth and tried to take deep calming breaths through her nose as she fought to control the swell of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her and leave her utterly useless before him.

Buffy tried to get her vocal chords working, but they refused to issue a sound. Instead her mouth opened and shut uselessly as she looked at his strange twisted expression of smugness and resentment.

“All I ask is that you come quietly. Do that, then neither your vampire here nor any of your friends or mother get it. Understand?” Buffy’s eyes shot to Spike’s once more and she could see him trying to tell her to say no through the use of his overly expressive eyes.

“Buffy?” The tone with which he said her name made it a warning as he magically tightened his hold on the vampire. “I could dust him with no more than a mere thought. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she finally managed to get out, her voice no more than a whisper and her eyes never leaving Spike’s.

“Yes what, darling?” Buffy turned her gaze back to the man before her.

“Yes, daddy,” she managed to get out before a flick of her father’s wrist sent her into unconsciousness.


***


Spike watched helplessly as the Slayer let her father magically knock her out before his two little minions in the background shuffled forward and began to bind her wrists together behind her back and tie a black blindfold around her eyes.

The spell that the great hulking pillock before him had used still bound him tightly, coiling ever tighter the more he tried to struggle against it. What had the Slayer called him before she was knocked out? Daddy?

He reached out his senses as best as he could and sniffed in the air around him. The magic he could scent in the air was strong. It was masking most of the other scents around him. But he could pick up two things: the scent of the wankers from the Council that had been hunting them last night, and the familial scent of the Slayer that he could smell whenever he was around Joyce.

He felt his stomach clench in revulsion. This man was her father.

Spike’s eyes trailed up to meet those of the man that could claim partial responsibility for the life of the best Slayer he had ever come across. They were staring straight back at him, glinting in amusement and the kind of wild excitement that could only be found in the eyes of those who weren’t completely there upstairs.

He watched as the Slayer’s father’s eyes flashed black just seconds before he was sent careening back into the wall behind him. Five wooden stakes appearing in midair in front of him before they too came hurtling in his direction. He couldn’t help the cry of pain that was torn from his lips as this hands and feet were pierced by the wood, effectively nailing him to the wall seconds before the fifth stake embedded itself into the centre his chest only just missing his heart.

“Stakes soaked in holy water. Ingenious, really. They’ll slowly burn away at any skin that touches them without actually killing you. I’m told it’s painful.” He gave a small chuckle as he turned away briefly and motioned for the two Council men to pick up his daughter. “I think I can say with little doubt that you’ll be begging to be dusted by the time the afternoon sun reaches through that window.”

Spike’s eyes flicked to the two semicircular windows on the other side of the room.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said as he shot Spike one last smile and left the room.


***


“They should have been back by now,” Joyce said as she paced restlessly in front of the door, only stopping to check out the window occasionally.

“I know,” Giles said simply. The rest of the Scoobies had gathered in the living room and were waiting the return of their best friend and the bleached menace that had been living with them for the last couple of days.

“Why aren’t they back yet? It’s been HOURS!” She continued to rant throwing her hands in the air and flopping down onto the couch “Something’s happened. I can feel it.”

“Didn’t you say Buffy was hurt? They are probably just waiting around at the school until nightfall so it’s easier for them to get home without Spike going up in flames,” Willow said quietly from her position on the arm of Oz’s chair. Although she had suggested it, she didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“I did block up the sewer access under the school,” Oz added trying to back up his girlfriend. She turned and gave him a grateful smile.

“They could’ve just unblocked it. I mean it would be kind of stupid to stay in one place when you have the big, gun-happy, not to mention HUMAN Council men after you. The first place I would look would be the school,” Cordelia bluntly stated.

“So not helping, Cordy.”

“Oh shut up, Harris. You know I’m right.” Xander had opened his mouth to send back a retort when Giles cut him off.

“That’s enough, both of you.” Giles effectively stopped any impending bickering with the harsh tone of his voice. “Unfortunately, Cordelia does have a point. However, as I was led to believe while talking to Spike, they had little choice when Buffy was injured last night.”

“So they could be still there? Right now? Needing our help?” Joyce questioned, getting ready to stand.

“Well, yes. But it is also quite possible that they’re on their way here as we speak.” Joyce frowned and studied the man beside her.

“So we split up then. Two teams. Cordy, Willow and Mrs. Summers stay here and wait to see if they show up and Oz, me and the G-man head over to the school,” Xander ordered, stepping into the commanding position with an ease that came from the residual army training left over from the previous Halloween.

“I’m coming with you,” Joyce said, standing just as the others had.

“Joyce, Xander is—dare I say it—right.” Giles ignored the surprised then smug look that came over the boy’s face with that declaration. “You need to stay here in case Buffy and Spike get back. If something has happened, we’ll call you immediately but otherwise you’ll be safest here. Buffy would never forgive any of us if something happened to you.”

She looked as if she was going to hesitate for a moment before finally conceding with a heavy sigh and a quick nod. Giles smiled and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before quickly gathering the weapons needed and moving towards the door with the two boys.

“Take my Jeep. With the way your car handles, you won’t arrive until tomorrow,” Joyce said with the same sarcastic tone in her voice that was so often heard in that of his Slayer’s. Giles let out an involuntary chuckle and grabbed Joyce’s keys before quickly marching out the door.


***


The pounding that was echoing throughout her head seemed to grow louder as her eyes fluttered open. Buffy groaned and tried to move her arms but noted with no small amount of bitterness that they had been bound behind her back.

She let out an unconscious growl as she twisted at the bindings on her wrists in a vain attempt to free herself. The ropes prickled and bit into her wrists, rubbing them raw as she tried to loosen the knots. She let out a frustrated sigh as they refused to budge. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Like she didn’t have enough on her plate without her father kidnapping her, tying her up, and putting her in…

For the first time she took note of her surroundings. She was in a steel box—a cage. Five of the six sides were pure steel, unmalleable and unescapable. The sixth wall had heavy iron bars running vertically across it so that she could see out into the room before her.

The room wasn’t overly large, but it looked like no place she had ever seen in Sunnydale—not that that meant much. She had no idea where she was, but she got the impression that she wasn’t just being held in your average hotel or motel room, though it had the same distinctly comfortable yet impersonal air to it that they often had.

The carpet looked soft and plush and was a bland creamy colour that seemed to match the light taupe colour of the walls. Buffy couldn’t see any windows in the room but judging by the pattern of the light hitting the floor, she could safely assume that they were on the wall behind her.

The room was plain, almost completely void of furniture if you didn’t count the cot made up in the corner of the room, the mini-fridge and microwave beside it, and her steel box. She strained to see if there was anyone else other than herself nearby, but nothing came into her line of vision.

What bothered Buffy most of all about her surroundings was the perfect circle that seemed to be burnt into the carpet of the floor in the very centre of the room. It had to be at least two meters in diameter and it had five candles placed around its boundaries in even intervals. It reminded her of the books she had read in the library about rituals and sacrifices. She had though the information in the dusty tomes to be of little use to her at the time, but now images of her father serving her up to some hell-raising demon were swimming before her mind unbidden.

She was about to renew her attempts to get out of her ropes again when the door on the far side of the room swung open, admitting her father once more.

“Just as a promised you,” he said as he stared at her coldly, stepping back to allow the figure behind him entry.

“Excellent,” Travers replied as he stared down at Buffy with a gleam in his eyes, one she found unnerving to say the least. He didn’t look as angry or particularly disgusted as she thought he might. Instead the look in his eyes was positively hungry—as though he were a starved man just served his first meal in months.

She felt her gut clench in fear and suddenly wondered whether she had been all that smart allowing her father to take her just to save her friends. She should have fought him. She should have tried to help Spike and then made a run for it. But even as she let those thoughts filter through her mind she knew she could have never left the others to be harmed while she saved her own skin.

She just wasn’t sure whether Council’s intentions were to study or destroy.

 

Chapter 20


“Oh, good God!” Giles felt the pangs of uneasiness that had been slowly building in the pit of his stomach explode into a fully fledged fear—a fear that he hadn’t felt since the night he had received the news of Buffy’s disappearance some weeks back.

The sight of the vampire before him nailed to the wall with large wooden stakes was sickening. He was barely conscious—the loss of blood making Spike appear gaunt and causing his complexion to take on a greyish hue as his blood dribbled sluggishly down the cream-coloured walls of the library.

With scarcely a thought to any possible lingering danger, Giles thrust the crossbow he had been holding into Xander’s surprised hands and quickly strode forward.

“Spike? Can you hear me?” Giles asked in a voice a little louder than the tone of his normal speech. A small groan sounded from the vampire and he blinked his eyes open slowly before letting his head drop forward again.

“I’m nailed to the wall, Watcher, not bloody deaf.” Despite the remark—or perhaps because of it—Giles grinned. He reached up and took a firm hold of the stake imbedded in the palm of Spike’s right hand. Distract him Giles thought to himself as he cast a wary glance at the vampire before turning his gaze back to the hand that was curled around the stake. You need to take his mind off the pain.

“I’m assuming they took Buffy. Was it Angelus?”

“Angelus? No, not Angelus. Smelt like some lackey of the—BLOODY HELL!” As soon as Giles had gotten Spike talking, he had secured his grip on the stake and pulled. It had slid out of his hand with a sliding wet squelch, causing the vamp in question to roar in pain and shift into his demon’s guise unconsciously.

“Fuck!” He moaned. His demon was emitting a slow continuous growl as it forced itself to push past the almost crippling pain. “Bloody hell, this gives me a whole new respect for the bloody Romans. Those tossers knew what they were about, going around crucifying people. It’s God-damned painful.” Giles tossed the blood soaked stake aside and moved to grab ahold of the next one.

The two teens standing behind the Watcher winced as the second stake was torn out and Spike emitted a pained groan and slumped forward onto the Watcher.

“Xander? Some help, perhaps?” Xander’s eyes went wide at suddenly being addressed.

“Help? You want me to…?” he trailed off gesturing erratically to the two stakes still driven through the arch of Spike’s feet. Xander felt his stomach roll in protest at the sight, but he couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination as the vampire slowly moved his hand up to the stake still imbedded in his chest to pull it from its sheath within his body.

“Oh for—just hold him up while I see to his feet.” Xander snapped out of his fugue state and moved to support the vampire’s dead weight while Giles knelt down to tend to the painful task of pulling the stakes out as painlessly as possible.

Giles and Xander worked as quickly as possible as they freed him from the wall and carried him between them so that he was stretched out on the table as Buffy had been only a few hours before.

“He’ll need blood,” Giles said absently as he looked over the now unconscious vampire’s wounds. “Oz, call Joyce and ask her and the girls to make a quick trip to the butcher. Tell her to stock up on as much as they can and to pick up a few bottles of bourbon while she’s at it.”

Oz slipped silently away with a nod of affirmation.

“Watch over him while I see to cleaning up this mess. Make sure he doesn’t move more than necessary.” Xander nodded, glad that he hadn’t been allocated the job of cleaning the mess of blood spread across the library walls like some macabre painting of death.

Xander shuddered and turned away from the sickening sight and let his gaze fall on the vampire. If that was the state they had left Spike in then he couldn’t bring himself to think about the possible state of his friend. It there was one thing he knew about Spike—had known even before this sordid ordeal had started—was that he didn’t go down easily, and neither did Buffy.

Spike’s brows furrowed slightly in his state of unconsciousness and his lips move silently and Xander recognised it for what it was—her name. It made him wonder what exactly was going on between those two.

Twice now he had had the displeasure of walking in on them while they were in the middle of some serious kissage. He knew Buffy well enough to know when she liked someone in that way. She got this furtive look in her eyes as she glanced from beneath her lashes; her eyes seem to get this extra twinkle in them when the object of her affection walked into the room before she would blush becomingly. She would also start fidgeting unconsciously: playing with her hair, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips gently, adjusting her sleeves, twirling a stake if there was one nearby. Xander knew this because for months after they had first met, he would look for those signs every time he walked into the room and every time he was disappointed. Even now when he was with Cordy he still found himself glancing over at Buffy, hoping that she would be looking back with that look in her eyes that said she felt something other than friendship towards him—the way she looked at Spike these days.

Xander didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or accept the facts that were displayed in front of him like some massive billboard complete with flashing neon lights. But as much as he liked to deny it, he knew deep down that it was true. Again she had chosen the vampire rather than him.

Xander didn’t like to admit it, partly ‘cause he had Cordy now—beautiful, feisty, wild Cordelia—but it still stung to think that Buffy would rather shack up with the undead that be with him. Living, breathing, human Xander Harris that wasn’t at least a century older than she, but still wasn’t good enough.

He let out a heavy sigh as Oz walked back into the room. The two teens communicated silently with a look in the others direction before Oz took the other seat beside the wounded vampire. Now they would wait.

***

The guards had changed post not even 15 minutes ago and already Buffy could tell that this one was her surest way to freedom.

He couldn’t look at her. He had come in, lay down on the cot in the corner of the room and studiously avoided any eye contact with anything even remotely in her direction.

She didn’t know how she knew—perhaps it was some fancy empathy power that was part of her new demon package—but she could tell that this one cared. Not about her—no, in no way did he harbour any care for her welfare, rather he cared that what they were doing was wrong. He cared about the guilt he felt at being part of the team holding her. He cared about clearing his own conscience. He didn’t like what the others were doing and she could use that to her advantage.

Only he refused to acknowledge her, let alone even face her. Ignore the problem long enough and it goes away. She let out and internal snort. Well, not me, Mister, she thought.

Her attention was snapped away from studying the man—though she made no outward signs of having been distracted—as she heard the approach of Travers and her father outside of the door to the room she was being held in.

Her eyes narrowed on the man. If he was her weakest link then she was going to have to make use of him and soon. Whatever her father and the head of the Watchers Council had planned, she was running out of time.

Even as the thought ran through her head the door to the room swung open and her father stepped in with and inanely insincere smile plastered across his face.

***

“So we have no idea where Buffy is, who took her, whether she is okay, or what they want?” Xander was the first to speak, running both hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Oh and let’s not forget mister I-lost-my-soul-so-now-I-want-to-eat-you-all who is trying to turn us all into pin cushions.”

Giles sighed. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was working with teenagers, who though still in school had proved themselves more than capable on more than one account. And, of course, sometimes it wasn’t.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Xander. Things look hopeless but we must remember that they are not. What we need to do is take a step back and consolidate what we know and try and piece together where everything fits. We’ll have a better chance at being useful in getting Buffy back if we know exactly what we are heading into.”

“And how exactly do you propose we do that, Rupert?” Joyce said as she ascended the basement stairs and made her way into the kitchen.

“How is he?” Willow asked, looking over the older woman’s shoulder and in the direction of where Xander and Giles had placed Spike, who had still yet to regain consciousness.

“I couldn’t say. I have no idea how quickly vampires heal, but it doesn’t look good.” Joyce replied as she slumped wearily onto one of stools by the kitchen counter.

“He should be fine in a day or two as long as we make sure he gets blood regularly. If he was still feeding from humans he could be healed within a few hours, but as that is no longer an option it will take longer.” Giles’ reply was punctuated by the removal of his glasses from his face in a familiar gesture as he moved to polish them on a handkerchief he seemed to have pulled from nowhere.

“Well we can count out saving Buffy until Spike joins the land of the conscious at least. He’s the only one who knows who took her—not to mention the only one who would stand half a chance at getting her back and remain alive,” Cordelia said from her position next to her boyfriend. For once no one had anything to say to her comment.

The room was unnaturally silent as they all slipped into their own thoughts. Cordelia wasn’t wrong in what she said. They could do nothing in regards to saving Buffy until Spike woke up again. They had all discussed it earlier, and given that Spike had said it wasn’t Angelus who had taken Buffy, that left the Watchers Council.

“Let us focus our efforts on the prophecy then. If we can decipher any more of it and find out exactly what the Council may want then it may at least give us some indication of what they plan to do with Buffy,” Giles said, pushing himself away from the counter and striding out of the room in search of his books. There was barely a murmur of protest from the teens, who followed in his wake.

***

Travers raised his tea to his lips thoughtfully and took a small sip of the hot liquid as he stared at the man in front of him.

“You know as well as I do, Hank, that the ritual must be performed by the end of the week. How do you hope to control her enough but then to make her go through with it? I don’t have time for her childish outbursts and penchant for disregarding orders. If anything goes wrong to prevent this ritual from being completed it will be your head that’s on the line.”

A slow smile spread across Hank’s face.

“Don’t worry. Have I ever let you down before?” Travers merely cocked and eyebrow at the question. “Besides, I whipped a little something up that will leave Buffy completely at out disposal by the end of the week. We’ve been lacing the food she has been given with a little drug that will ensure that she will follow any orders we give her.”

Travers returned Hank’s sinister like grin, reassured once more that his friend wasn’t about to let him down. If Hank said he’d have his daughter under control, then he would trust that when the time came he would have her under control.

“Very good,” he said before giving the man a small friendly smile. “I trust you completely, Hank, you have always come through for me. But we can never be too careful and this is far too important for me to have something as trivial as the Slayer’s free will mess it up. This is my destiny. The path that has lain before me since the moment of birth.”

“And come Friday evening, all your years of waiting will finally be at an end.” A small chuckle burst from the Council leader’s lips.

“Yes, it finally will.”

Chapter 21


“Wait, here’s something.” The scoobies had been searching for hours and Willow’s eyes were heavy with the words on the page blurring as her eyes watered against the wide yawn that spilt her face. “It says something about a binding ceremony. Used for centuries. Contains blood rites and chanting and both parties present to do an incantation…Oh here we go, the ritual is used as a means of connecting two beings in mind and soul, like the prophecy said.”

Giles stretched his hand out across the table for the book and Willow happily handed it to him, eager to let her eyes rest on something other than the tiny print of the tomes.

“Well done,” Giles said as his eyes skimmed over the text at such a rapid speed that that a less practiced man would have had more than enough trouble keeping up.

Willow yawned and looked around. She was the only one left still awake. Xander and Cordy were both stretched out on the floor, their heads buried in the respective books fast asleep. Oz had fallen asleep in the chair next to her, half way through a book that she was certain was more about tribal mating rituals that any binding ceremonies and even Joyce had nodded off, delicately snoring from her spot on the couch next to Giles.

They seemed to come awake through some unspoken agreement though, the moment Giles’ exclamation left his lips.

“Oh, dear lord!” The others stirred and sat up rubbing their still sleep deprived eyes.

“I really hate it when he says that,” Xander noted, discreetly trying to wipe away the small puddle of drool that had dribbled from his mouth onto the book his head had been resting on.

“This is indeed the ritual we have been looking for,” Giles said slowly, his eyes never leaving the book in front of him.

“Well that’s good news, isn’t it?” Joyce asked cautiously.

Xander’s “there’s a but, am I right G-man?” caused a flicker of annoyance to pass across the Watcher’s face, but he did not call the boy on it.

“It turns out that the ritual required to bind the two beings together—.” Giles began before being cut off by an impatient huff from Joyce.

“Will you just spit it out already?” Joyce snapped. She was sitting on the edge of her seat with worry and the Watcher’s affinity for making things overly dramatic and drawn out wasn’t helping her nerves in the least.

“It’s a hand fasting ritual.” Two shocked gasps from Willow and Joyce reverberated throughout the room amongst the sea of blank faces.

“What? What’s a hand fasting ritual?” Xander questioned, with no small measure of panic.

“The equivalent of marriage, only it’s done through magic. And there is no divorce. It binds two souls together even after one or both has passed on,” Willow explained quietly.

“Yes, that is the basics behind a hand fasting ritual. However, the effects can be far more profound than any simple merging of the mind and soul. Each case is different so it can be difficult to document. However, if this is to occur, Buffy would be irrevocably branded on the inside of her left wrist—marking her as a married woman to all who knew what it meant—and she would be forever bound to that person. And likely able to experience their feelings and emotions.” The room was silent at the end of his announcement.

“And you think that if it is the Council that has her, that is what they plan to do?”

“I couldn’t say. If this ritual is indeed the reason that they have come after her and they don’t just plan on terminating her as a possible threat, then it is likely that they are planning to use her for some greater purpose,” Giles’ voice was solemn as he placed the book on the table.

“So in other word you are telling me that these filthy bastards are either planning on killing my baby or prostituting her out in some way to benefit their ‘mission’?” Giles didn’t answer, though he suspected that an answer hadn’t been expected and that the question had been rhetorical, with Joyce just venting her frustration. “My little girl is only seventeen years old! That’s far too young to get married!”

“Actually Joyce, the marriage is inevitable and needed to help stabilize her powers. Whether done through the council or through us, Buffy will have to undertake in a hand fasting ceremony in the near future. The most we can do to help is make sure that it involves someone with whom she is comfortable rather than some Council lackey.” Giles’ calm tone belied the inner turmoil he was experiencing. Despite her initial outburst, Joyce was taking the news fairly well.

“Oh, and who exactly do you propose she binds herself to for eternity? You do realize that it is going to have to be someone in this house, since we are the only ones who know just what she is and can still be trusted.” A beat of silence rang throughout the room as the occupants contemplated what Joyce’s words meant for them all. Joyce was right; it would have to be someone in the room. Who else was there that Buffy would feel even remotely comfortable binding herself to for eternity?

“We, ah…I guess if we somehow managed to, um… restore Angel’s soul? I mean, surely Buffy wouldn’t object to marrying Angel?” Willow offered timidly after a lengthy pause.

Cordy let out an indelicate snort. “Yeah, right! Were you like not around when Buffy first came back or when she was yelling at Spike last night loud enough for the whole world to hear? The last thing she is going to want is to bind herself to some mental homicidal manic who tortured her for three days straight.”

“Not only that, but it would be foolish to give someone like Angel that much power, especially if he ever lost his soul again,” Giles said quietly.

“I was just saying, I mean it’s not like we have a lot of options here, do we? Xander, Giles, and Oz are the only three that fit the mould,” Willow retorted, with more than a little defensiveness in her voice.

“Actually, we’re not,” was Xander’s reply. He hated himself for even thinking it, let alone bringing it up. A shared look with Oz told him the wolf had been thinking the same thing.

He looked around the expectant faces of his friends and family and took a deep breath “There’s still Spike.”

***

Spike shifted and slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was day time and the sun was high in the sky. He’d likely been unconscious for more than a few hours.

Buffy.

His body protested violently as he moved to sit up, the screaming pain that had previously gone unnoticed now making itself more than apparent. He let out a small groan and blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to his surroundings.

He’d obviously been fed blood. He was going to need a lot more though, and soon, if he was going to be able to stand long enough to get Buffy back.

“I don’t trust you.” Spike’s head whipped around, and his eyes landed on the Watcher, surprised that he hadn’t noticed his presence until he had spoken. “I don’t trust that you had nothing to do with orchestrating all of this—all of what’s been done to Buffy—but right now you are all we have to go on in so far as at getting her back, perhaps even saving her life. So I’m going to trust your sense of survival. You’re weak, and I have no problems believing it would take little effort and skill on my part to ram this stake through your chest.”

Spike quirked an inquiring eyebrow at the piece of wood in Giles’ hands, wondering what had brought on this change in the Watcher’s disposition towards him. He could hardly believe this to be the same man that he had a clear memory of coming to his rescue only a few hours earlier.

Despite that however, he found himself nodding his head slowly.

“I want to know who took Buffy this afternoon,” Giles asked with a flinty note in his voice that had the vampire looking on him with a new kind of respect.

“Was the soddin’ Slayer’s father, and he had a few of the Wankers Council lackeys with him. I didn’t hear him coming till it was too late and he’d hit me with some kind of spell that had me suspended in the air and unable to move.” Spike saw the question forming on the Watcher’s lips before he had even finished speaking and went on to answer it. “The Slayer was in your office at the time. She came out, he sent her a few threats to make her go quietly, knocked her out magically and went all stake happy on me.”

“You’re telling me that she didn’t even put up a fight? Buffy didn’t even put up a fight?” Giles’ tone was disbelieving enough to put Spike even more on the defensive than even the accusations Giles had made earlier.

“S’right. He told her that if she came quietly, none of you would be hurt. Pulled the ‘daddy’ routine on her and she did just that—went quietly.” Spike reached for his cigarettes and agitatedly pulled one out before lighting it up and letting the soothing effect of nicotine work through his body.

“And Hank was the one that took her?” Giles’ question was posed in an equally agitated voice coloured with disbelief. “Joyce’s ex-husband is not only a bloody warlock but is also working for the Council now?”

“S’right.” Spike saw the Watcher’s disbelieving look, and his temper flared. “If you don’t bloody well believe me then that’s your problem. I told you what happened, and if you really think I would go so far as to bloody well cook up a scheme that includes getting myself nailed to the freakin’ wall, then you’re out of your bloody gourd.”

They both stared at each other as they sized up what was being said and how far the other was willing to go to prove their point. So far everything the vampire had said and done had proven to be trustworthy, but he was a definite black area when it came to slayers. Giles was not willing to risk Buffy’s life just because Spike had thus far proven to be up front with information.

“Are you able to track her to where she is being held?” Giles question was not a declaration of trust or even proof that he was backing down. Spike’s heightened senses could be a much needed asset, and as long as he was useful, he would avoid meeting a dusty ending on the sharp end of a stake.

“I should be able to track her scent. If not the mark of domination she gave me,” Spike gave Giles’ smug look a pointed sneer, “should allow me to feel her enough to track her to wherever she is being held.”

“Good, we need to get her back before nightfall this Friday. That gives you two days—or nights rather—to locate her. The rest of our time needs to be spent deciding just how we are going to get her out.” The vampire quirked and eyebrow in the Watcher’s direction.

“This Friday night’s a full moon. Guess that means you found whatever ritual needs to be done to keep her dainty slayer brains from decorating the living room walls?” Giles gave Spike a disgusted look, and the vampire winced internally at his own callous remark. The last thing he needed at the moment though was the Watcher knowing Spike was having naughty thoughts about the girl Giles considered to be like his own daughter. Spike had the feeling the he was only just out of the staking zone as it was.

“The ritual is none of your concern. The only capacity in which you will be needed is making sure that the Council doesn’t get to us before the ritual is completed.” Spike felt his demon snarl at the thought of Buffy being bound to someone else in any form, but he bit back his retort and nodded placidly.

Giles nodded tightly and stood up, walking stiffly to the stairs.

Just before the Watcher slipped through the door, Spike asked, “And what of Angelus? He’s not just going to disappear while you have it out with the Council. That’s why I agreed to join your merry band of do-gooders in the first place, you know.”

“We have bigger problems than Angelus and his pointless teasing. Once the Council is no longer a threat to Buffy in the capacity that they are at the moment, then we will look to disposing of Angelus and your sire.” Giles’ response was punctuated by him shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving Spike no opportunity to reply. Surprisingly though, Spike had nothing to say.

Chapter 22


The eerie silence that filled the car was almost deafening it was so palpable. As time wore on, Xander began to wish that he had never opened his mouth about Buffy and Spike beginning to feel something for one another. Giles' reaction had certainly been less than desirable.

In fact the more Xander thought about it, the more he began to realise how stupid the suggestion was. Giving a souled Angel that kind of power was one thing; if he ever lost his soul again it would practically be suicide for the rest of them. While he had been playing for the good side as of late, Spike had made it more than clear that his priorities still lay with his insane sire, despite what feelings were developing between him and Buffy. So, even contemplating giving a currently soulless demon—a soulless Spike—that kind of power was absolutely out of the question.

The adamant refusal that Spike be the one that Buffy should be bound to had left them with little else from which to choose. They had discussed the ritual in great detail together and while a normal hand fasting ritual took no more than the words of the ritual to be spoken while the subjects' hands were bound together symbolically, this one was infinitely more adult rated.

Joyce had been horrified as the details of what exactly was involved were described to her. They all had been a bit shocked at some point, but overall, the took it well. Willow's innocence was the most affected. It was one thing to suspect something, but it only ever became truth when it was voiced.

The selection of acceptable partner choices was whiddled from three down to two and then almost immediately from two down to one. Down to him to be more specific. Giles was simply out of the question and with Oz being a werewolf they couldn't be sure of the side effects it might have on either of them. Xander was disgusted with himself for the nearly crippling bolt of joy and excitement that ran through him initially. Now all he felt was sick.

The reactions as everyone had realised that he was the only real choice they had was varied. Joyce had looked upset but reassured somewhat by the fact that it would be someone her daughter was close to and knew well. Giles looked grim, Willow was shocked beyond the capabilities of speech, Oz wore his usual stoic mask and Cordy…Cordy had burst into tears in a moment so out of character that he hadn't known what to do. The sick feeling he had felt in his gut intensified with her reaction.

Now, with Spike driving, Giles in the front passenger’s seat, and Xander and Cordelia sitting in the back, they were all acutely aware of the uncomfortably tense silence as they waited for some reaction from Spike, telling them whether they were close to Buffy or if he could pick up her scent. Xander glanced across the back seat to his girlfriend who had insisted on coming along, and felt a rush of emotions flood him. He was going to lose her…

***

Buffy blinked groggily as she rolled herself over to look out into the room that had been her only source of entertainment for what felt like days. There was something wrong with her—that much she could decipher. Her limbs felt tired and heavy like she was moving through syrup and her head held a fogginess to it that she couldn't seem to push past no matter how much she tried. Yes there was definitely something wrong…she just didn't know what it was.

Here gaze moved slowly to look at the bed in the corner of the room to see the young Watcher staring at her with sad brown eyes. He hadn't been able to even bring himself to set his gaze upon her the day before; now he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

Buffy turned her gaze away from him as he averted his eyes and they sluggishly came to focus on the centre of the room.

Someone had roped a dead lamb to the centre of the ceiling so it hung down into the middle of the room. A trail of its blood measuring roughly two meters wide stained the carpet to make a dark maroon circle. The smell the dried blood gave off was thick and pungent and even when Buffy forced herself not to go through the mechanics of breathing—something she really no longer needed to do—the smell still seemed to assault her senses.

This can’t be of the good, she though as her heavy eyelids drifted shut again.

***

“Did you say the ritual required the blood of a lamb?” Spike asked, suddenly pulling the car to a stop outside an apartment complex.

Giles gave him a peculiar look. “Yes, the sacrifice of an innocent animal is made to mark a ring of blood around the floor of the sacred place chosen for the ritual to be carried out. It is believed—.”

Spike rolled his eyes and cut Giles’ babbling short. “A simple ‘yes’ would have done it, mate,” he nodded towards the building they had parked in front of. “I can’t feel or sense her nearby but a shit load of sheep's blood has been spilled in there recently.” he paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side inquiringly. “Also seems our mate Angelus is close by as well.”

The two teens in the back seat tensed to alertness.

“We’ll come back in the daylight hours to further investigate then,” Giles replied, peering calmly into the shadows “Take us home.”

Spike nodded and swung the car around as he drove off again.

***

Angelus watched the proceedings from the shadows.

Originally, he had been intrigued by the overwhelming smell of animal blood coming from one of the apartments. The only time you smelt that much blood was around butchers and ritual sacrifices. Considering he was currently residing in Sunnydale, he was going to go with the latter. The question was who was attempting the mojo, and what ritual were they trying to carry out?

His mild interest had practically skyrocketed the moment he had sensed the approaching presence of his grandchilde and the car load of white hatters.

Angelus watched they pulled up and the proceeded to sit there for a few minutes as they obviously discussed their options. He cursed his bad fortune at his distance from the car. He was close enough to hear the murmur of their voices, but too far to make out what they were saying. But in this instance, their presence at all was enough to let him know that this was something important enough to warrant their leaving the safety of their house at night.

Since he had lost his soul, they never went anywhere alone, and they never left the house after dark unless absolutely necessary. It was quite the evil ego boost that they took such precautions because of him.

The only thing that stumped him in this scenario was the lack of the Slayer’s presence. She wasn’t one to sit back and let the others do her work for her, yet she was most definitely not part of the group that was out on the little reconnaissance mission.

Angelus watched as the car did a u-turn before driving off into the night again. They had most likely sensed his presence, he mused silently. His interest was more than piqued, and his curious nature refused to let him drop it. He gave one last look at the building committing its location to memory before setting off in the direction the car had driven. A direction he knew well. He was going to pay a little visit to Revello Drive.

***

A knock sounded at the door. “Sir?”

“You may enter.” Travers and Hank looked up from their papers as the door to the study opened and a young field agent walked in to stand stiffly before them. “What is it?”

“The Slayer’s friends, sir, and Rupert Giles were just sighted outside the block of apartments. They had the vampire with them.” Travers frowned and looked down at the papers before him.

“Seems they caught on quicker than expected,” he half muttered to himself.

“I told you that the sacrifice would only attract attention when done before the actual ritual itself.” Travers shot Hank a dark look at the patronising tone that rang through his voice. “You know I’m right. The vampire could probably smell all that blood a mile off, and if they have any insight to the hand fasting at all, then they’ll know that we’re here.”

Travers ignored him.

“How long were they here?” he asked instead. The young man startled slightly at being addressed again.

“Not longer that a few moments. A minute, maybe two at most, before they drove off again. No one exited the car,” he answered in what he hoped was a strong voice. The Head Watcher nodded again before dismissing the man.

“You’re absolutely sure that this ritual can be completed on the night before and after the full moon?” Travers queried the Slayer’s father once he was sure the boy was gone.

A twisted grin spread over Hank’s face. “Positive. In fact, many believe that it is better for the ritual to be carried out on the night before rather than on the actual night of the full moon.”

“Good, good then. And you are sure the drugs you are feeding her are taking effect?” He couldn’t help but feel nervous now that everything he had dreamt of for so long was almost at hand. He didn’t have time for slip ups and visits from the Slayer’s sidekicks. The ritual needed to be completed before they came barging in to save her or all else could be shot to hell.

“Better than I could have hoped for,” Hank replied doing little to mask the eager excitement from his voice.

“Tomorrow then,” Travers made his mind up and turned to face his desk where a tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch sat untouched. “As soon as night falls.”

Hank smiled as he accepted his glass and nodded. He raised it in a small salute before taking a hearty swig. “Tomorrow at nightfall.”

***

Giles wasn’t surprised to hear the knock on the door later that night. Other than Spike—who was presumably sitting on his cot down in the basement—he was the only one awake. He had been sitting up for hours pouring over anything he could find in books and everything Willow had found on the internet about the apartments they had been to earlier that night.

So far he had come across very little that could come of any use and he had felt his mind begin to drift to their other current problem of Angelus and his lack of soul.

Giles had no doubt whatsoever that terminating Angelus was their only option after what he had done to Buffy. He had absolutely no problems entertaining the thought of Angelus meeting a dusty end, and had, in fact, been expecting Angelus to be lurking around the exterior of the house after Spike had sensed him nearby when they had been out and about earlier that evening.

No, what bothered him was the notion that Angelus may somehow be involved in what the Council planned to do with Buffy. They were in no doubt that the Council was holding her, and presumably still had her alive. What he didn’t get was why Angelus had been lurking around. It had to be too much of a coincidence that he was felt at the one place they suspected Buffy was being held.

Picking up the crossbow on his way to the door, he opened it carefully to keep his weapon concealed from view.

“Angelus, how terribly predictable,” Giles remarked as the dark features of the vampire he had once considered an almost friend came into view. Now there was nothing he desired more than to see him meet a dusty ending.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Rupes?” his smile was a mocking leer that held his sarcastic laugh in the corners of his mouth.

“No, actually I’m not. And if you are here to make taunting idle threats then do you think we might be able to arrange a time when I have less important matters than you to worry about, because I am more than a little busy?” Angelus released a sneering snarl.

In a move that was done more for Buffy’s sake than any act of defiance, Giles rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, I’m scared. Now if you’ll excuse me?” Angelus let out a howl of fury at the brush off and made to lunge forward, forgetting about the barrier that now barred him from a house to which he had previously had an all access pass. How dare Giles act so blasé in his presence? These people were meant to fear him above all else, not taunt him.

Giles reacted instinctively to the potential threat raising the concealed crossbow and firing a bolt before the vampire had time to react.

He watched with a calm indifference as it sailed through the short distance between them and imbedded itself firmly into the vampire’s chest with a dull ‘thud’.

Angelus let out a shocked squeak as he looked down at where the wooden bolt protruded from his heart.

“No!” he managed to gasp out before his body started the rapid decay into dust for an anticlimactic finish, until nothing more was left than the neat pile of his ashes left on the door step.

Giles shut the door softly, replaced the crossbow from where he had retrieved it, and returned to where he had been sitting.

“I was hoping he would do something like that.”

Chapter 23


“We need some sort of diversion to buy us some time to get in relatively unnoticed,” Oz stated as they all looked at the blueprints Willow had managed to acquire from the internet that were now splayed out across the Joyce’s dining room table. “If we enter through this entrance, we could back my van practically right up to the door. That would allow Spike to be able to get in without worrying about any sunlight.”

“What type of diversion is going to work? Anything that we do would be a dead giveaway, as they know each of us—including Spike, who we need to help locate Buffy once we’re inside,” Xander frowned and worried his bottom lip pensively. “I guess I could rig an explosive up somewhere outside of the building and set it on a timer.”

Joyce’s eyes went incredibly wide. “Y-you know how to do that?”

“Long story. The short version is we all got turned into our costumes last Halloween. I dressed up as a soldier so I turned into a soldier. When the spell wore off the knowledge kind of stayed,” he explained quickly.

“Oh,” Joyce nodded her head absently. What else was she meant to say to that? Her daughter’s life was far too complicated. To think that all of this time, Joyce thought Buffy had been a trouble maker. Joyce didn’t know how Buffy was able to keep up with her slaying duties and still be able to find time to sleep and study—not that she truly believed her daughter did much of the latter.

“I’m afraid that any kind of diversion like that will be seen for what it is. We need something more subtle, something that won’t be immediately connected with us,” Giles said, ignoring the slight digression the conversation had taken.

“What about an insane, bloodthirsty, enraged and vengeful vampire?” All head turned to look at Spike who, unlike the others, wasn’t crowded around the map, but splayed out on the couch behind them all.

“So you’re volunteering then?” Xander sneered.

“No, I was referring to Drusilla. You’d know what I mean, right Watcher?” The bitter tone in his voice came through cold and flinty but the challenge was undeniable as he nodded in Giles’ direction.

All heads swivelled to stare at the Watcher in question.

“Indeed,” was Giles’ only response.

“What does he mean?” Willow asked curiously.

“Seems we had another little visit from Angelus last night and Rupes here decided that he would play judge, jury and executioner and dust him. That about it, mate?” The glare Giles tossed Spike’s way would have seriously frightened a lesser man. After over a century of murder, mayhem and violence, a simple glare did little to rattle Spike’s nerves.

“You dusted him?” The redhead asked incredulously. “But we hadn’t decided if that was what we were going to do! What gave you the right to end his life like that?”

“That’s what I want to know, Red,” Spike added with a smirk as he watched the normally quiet and nervous redhead slowly start to boil with anger.

“I did what I believed was the right thing to do. I am a Watcher and in this instance I believe my judgment to be the better call. He was a hazard to our attempts at getting Buffy back, to our lives, and to the countless innocents we have already allowed him to murder since he became soulless,” Giles shot back angrily with more than a little authority in his voice.

Spike’s smug smile dropped as he watched Willow back down again and rolled his eyes. Did all these people cower away the moment a little authority was asserted?

“If that’s true then why are you still here?” Xander shot in Spike’s direction. “Would have thought you’d be off crawling on your knees at your insane ho-bag sire’s feet.”

“This became more than just about Angelus a long time ago, mate, and you know it,” Spike’s retort was spoken in a calm and level voice that did more to get his point across that if he had yelled at them angrily.

“Enough!” Joyce’s interjection was enough to silence them. “I have no idea how any of you get any work done the way you bicker with each other! Can we get back to the task at hand please? You know, saving Buffy?” They all looked away guiltily under her reprimanding gaze. “Spike, you were saying?”

“What? Oh, right. Well, I’m assuming that Dru doesn’t know that it was the Watcher here who offed her ‘daddy dearest’ yet. So, why not tweak the story a little and send her straight into the nest thinking that it was the Council? That will keep them busy for hours,” he couldn’t help the small chuckle as he finished that thought. He could remember vividly what it had been like a few years ago when they had felt the death of Darla through their family ties; what mayhem she had caused then. It had gone on for days. Of course, in the end they had been chased out of the city by an angry mob that had almost seen the death of his sire.

What Drusilla felt for Angelus was infinitely stronger; Spike sincerely doubted that anyone in that building would be left alive. Though he doubted she would make it out either…and the idea of that happening didn’t bother him the way he thought it should.

“Well yes, that would certainly work,” Giles agreed reluctantly.

“Yeah, and it would also be signing the death warrants of every man and woman in that place,” Cordy spoke up for the first time. “Let’s face it, I don’t want that over my head and I doubt Buffy would either.”

“So what do we do then?”

***

“That’s it then?” Xander asked as he sunk back into his seat as the last details of the plan were ironed out.

“That’s it. I can’t think of anything else that might be a problem as long as you and Willow have no obstacles then we should be fine,” Giles said as he tossed the pen with which he had been writing onto the table and let his head fall against that back of his seat.

He removed his glasses and ran over-worked fingers over his eyes to help ease their tiredness that was making his eyesight blur. This whole plan hinged on Willow and Xander being able to get their jobs done so that the personnel Hank and Travers had would be adequately distracted when they went in.

“We should do it tonight. The longer we wait, the more likely we are to run into problems, and we won’t have enough time to fix them and get the ritual done as well,” Joyce’s remarks broke the silence that had settled over the group.

“T-tonight?” Willow’s nerves made her voice shake, causing her to stutter. She wasn’t used to being the key player. She didn’t like knowing that their success all depended on her—that whether Buffy knew it or not, she was counting on Willow to get her out.

Joyce nodded her head eagerly. “The sooner we get her away from them the more smoothly things should run. We have to allow time for error.”

Willow nodded her head nervously in understanding. “O-oh, okay then.”

Giles sat upright, and again began polishing his glasses on the edge of his shirt. “Joyce is right, this can only work once. If we mess it up we won’t have another chance at getting Buffy out again before the ritual has begun,” his voice was solemn but firm with determination. “That leaves us with a little over four hours to prepare anything that we will need. Does anyone have any questions?”

The room was silent as each of the occupants looked around at each other, waiting for someone to speak up with a reason why this was a bad idea. No one raised their voice to answer though. The plan that had taken nearly all day to devise would be carried out.

“Alright then, Joyce. You’re up first…”

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