Chapter 13
Gunn swept back into the lobby and sagged into a chair. On the other side of the room, Angel sat with his arms folded across his chest. "Well?" he asked.
Gunn opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again and shrugged. "She got him. The two of 'em took off."
Angel considered this. Was it worth all this trouble after all? Spike didn't seem eager to hang around and screw with him, and maybe Wes was right. What was done was done, and this whole plan went against everything he'd tried so hard to do all these years. It was wrong... not to mention stupid, haphazard, and...
If Buffy ever found out, there'd be no forgiveness there. Ever.
"Maybe we should just cut our losses," Angel said finally. "He got his reward. What's the harm in --"
"Boss, don't you get it?!" Gunn cried. "We let that asshole live, and his shadow won't ever get up to full strength!"
"His... shadow?"
Gunn gave a short laugh. "Oh, please, did you really think I was doin' this to help you with your lame vendetta?" Suddenly Gunn's eyes turned milky white, his voice lowering to a feral growl. "There's a plan for that boy, and I'll execute it with or without you."
Angel was knocked cold before he even saw Gunn's fist hurtling toward his face.
***
Xander's jaw fell open. "What? Spike?! Uh, Dawnie... I don't mean to state the obvious here, but Spike's... well, he's gone. Dust. Sorry, but he's not coming back."
Dawn looked pained briefly, but shook it off. "Xander, I know what I saw, and it was him. The hair, the fangs, everything. Spike's in there, and we've gotta --"
"I'm going in," Faith announced.
"Are you sure?" Kennedy asked. "What about the others in there?"
"Oh, please! I can totally wipe the floor with 'em. Nah, it's cool. You guys stay out here. If I don't come back in ten, send the troops in."
Without giving anyone else a chance to argue, Faith made a mad dash for the side of the building and kicked the door in.
"See, this is why she and I didn't last," Xander said, shaking his head. "It's all about the quick payoff, no little niceties, just bam!"
Kennedy and Dawn peered at Xander oddly.
"Sorry, did I just take that to a place it didn't need to go?" he asked weakly.
***
"Well, we'll just have to show up, then," Fred said decisively as she pulled into the airport parking lot. "I don't have the address, but once we get to town, it shouldn't be too hard to find."
"How's that?" Spike asked, exiting the car.
"Just point me to a library," Fred said proudly. "There's almost no info I can't get given a computer and a cup of coffee."
Spike grinned. "Brilliant, then," he said. "Shall we?"
The next flight didn't leave for Cleveland for another hour, so while Fred nervously paged through a magazine, Spike bought cigarettes and wandered outside.
Really should give this up, got a pair of nice new lungs now, he thought, taking a lazy drag. Ah, well, enjoy it while I can. Last packet for me, get on the bloody patch when it's empty.
He gazed up at the sun streaming across the cloudless sky, a perfect crystal blue. So damn beautiful, he thought. God, that alone's worth losin' immortality.
That and the look on her face when I sweep her into my arms again...
***
The look on her face was priceless.
"Dearie me!" he said. "It's Faith! The rogue-fucking-Slayer! How the hell've you been, pet?"
Faith was training her crossbow on the nervous man in the corner. "Shut up, Spike," she commanded. "I'll deal with your little friend here, and then I'm bustin' you out."
"Thanks ever so," he said with a smirk. "Been goin' a bit stir crazy in 'ere, but then I'd wager you know a thing or two about what prison does to a person."
Ignoring his remark, she turned her attention back to the man, who was now whimpering. "Please don't kill me," he pleaded.
"And this is the amazing and powerful warlock," the vampire muttered with contempt. "Knew you didn't have the stones to keep it together."
"Who are you?" Faith demanded. "How'd you bring him back from the dead? And where the fuck are the keys to the cage?"
"J - Jay," he stammered. "Jay Ellis. I - I didn't bring him... my wife. She did it. Here." He flung a ring of keys at Faith. "Take him. Just go."
"Your wife, huh? Where's she?" Faith picked the keys off the floor and moved toward the cage, keeping the crossbow pointed at Jay.
"I don't know," Jay replied. "Really. I swear."
Faith unlocked the cage. "Let me take care of 'im," the vampire said. "I'm feelin' so terribly peckish."
"Like I'd let you eat him, even if he's up to no good? Don't think so, man," Faith said. She yanked him by the arm toward the door.
"Wait!" Jay called. "You don't know what you're --"
"Did anybody ask you?" Faith pushed the vampire out the door, then turned to Jay and released the trigger on the crossbow. The arrow slammed into the wall an inch beside Jay's head. "Try anything else even remotely freaky, and you'll have three pissed off Slayers to deal with. And next time, we won't let you live."
"Neither will he," Jay whispered to himself with a hint of a smile. "Let the chaos begin."
Chapter 14
Buffy could only stare at the blond standing next to Faith, her feet rooted to the floor as she drank him in.
Spike.
His mouth, his shoulders, his eyes, his hair, his skin...
"How did you get here so... I... we... ?" She turned to Willow. "Did you... ? What... ?"
He held up a hand. "Why don't you scroll through those questions a mite slower, blondie? Your head'll spin off."
Suddenly she didn't care about the answers. She flew to him and kissed him hard, not caring that everyone was crowded into the living room watching the entire display as his arms wound around her waist and he molded himself to her.
"Okay, okay, B, you guys wanna get a room for that?" Faith asked. "'Cause I get that you're with the happy, but there's a psycho warlock and his badass spousal unit we gotta deal with."
"Spike?" Willow piped up. "Is Fred with you?"
"Fred?" he asked, confused. "Er... uh..."
"Stayed back in LA?" Willow asked. "Maybe I should call, make sure everything's okay out there."
"Eh, yeah, right, ring him up. Make sure --"
"You mean ring her up?"
He cleared his throat. "'S what I meant. Her. Yeah." He laughed nervously.
Willow took a step backward. "Wait a minute..."
"Will?" Buffy's voice was suddenly full of concern. "What is it?"
Willow looked at Faith. "Where did you guys find him?" she asked slowly.
"That warehouse," Dawn supplied. "People had him locked in a cage, he was --"
"The Empath," Willow realized. "Oh, God, you guys, this isn't Spike, this is --"
He chuckled. "Well, parts of me are," he said. "Sort of." His fist shot out and punched Kennedy in the stomach, sending her flying across the room, where she landed in an unconscious heap.
Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "No... no... I knew it was a trick the minute I heard you were alive..."
His features morphed into gameface. "Alive?" he sniffed haughtily. "Please, Slayer, I've never felt more dead." He gripped her by the shoulders, and before anyone could move to stop him, sank his fangs into her neck.
***
"Got it?"
Fred nodded, jingling a set of keys. "All rental car enhanced," she said happily. "Now to get all researchy."
Spike held up a small scrap of paper. "Got directions to one of those cyber cafes," he told her. "Think that'll do?"
"Oo, even better than a library! Unlimited caffeination and computer access!"
He chuckled. "If I'd known you were so easy to please..."
Her blush was unmistakable, and he mentally kicked himself. Poor thing's a bit hung up on me, I shouldn't... Oh hell...
For the briefest of moments, Spike wished there could be two of him... one to live in passionate bliss with Buffy, the other to make a go of it with Fred.
***
She spun the chair around when Gunn entered. "Nice job," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Which part of things were you not clear on?"
Gunn was nonplussed. "Couldn't be helped. The further Angel gets from this place, the less effect it's got on him. He starts makin' with the stupid conscience bullshit even five miles from the building."
Lilah grinned and stood up. "But not you."
"Nope."
"You're still ours, aren't you?" She trailed her fingertips along the lapel of his jacket. "Great thing, the human mind. It might be weaker than a demon's, but the results are so much nicer." Abruptly, she tightened her grip on the fabric she held and pulled him closer, her features hardening. "And yet you make more mistakes," she hissed. "You let a few things slip to him, didn't you?"
"Nothing so specific that he'd ever figure it out," Gunn replied.
"He knows too much already," Lilah said, shoving him away from her. "Stake him."
"Consider it done." He gave Lilah a decisive nod as he departed.
From the shadows clinging to the corner of the office, Wes appeared. "So why didn't you do that to me?" he asked. "Why not work harder to turn me against him, too?"
Lilah sighed. "Call me crazy, call me old-fashioned..." She sidled up to him and ran a hand through his hair tenderly. "I just couldn't, Wesley..."
The axe sliced through her neck swiftly, her head hitting the floor with a thud. Wes didn't waste a moment assessing the damage, simply dashed from the office, trying to ignore the sharp sting swelling behind his eyes.
He knew it wouldn't be long before she'd regenerated, but hopefully this would buy him some time.
***
Buffy awoke in her bed, tucked beneath crisp sheets. A sharp pain thudded in her neck, and she struggled to sit up.
"Sleeping Beauty stirs."
She glared through the darkness and saw the slim form leaning casually against the doorframe, his face still contorted into angry bumps and ridges. "What did you do with everyone else?" she demanded, her voice hoarse.
"All in due time," he assured her. "Right now, the lot of 'em's tied up... wanted you to watch while I drain the life out of each and every one of your pathetic little mates."
"Not gonna happen, Spike."
His fangs glistened as he grinned. "Oh, it's so cute the way you say his name like that, even when you're all angry and determined-like." In a flurry of speed, he was straddling her, hand buried in her hair as he drew her head up brutally. She let out a strangled cry of pain. "Don't you bloody well get it?" he asked. "I'm only wearin' his skin, Slayer."
"What are you?" she managed.
He leaned in closer. "I'm what's been buried beneath his soul, his humanity, his chip, his brain... all these years, I'm finally free."
She gulped, realization setting in. "You're..."
"I'm what wriggled in when he fed from Drusilla," he confirmed. "I'm his demon."
Chapter 15
Fred had been at the keyboard for what seemed endless dull hours that left Spike feeling twitchy and useless. Four cappuccinos, ten cigarettes, and something called a "killer brownie" -- a scary concoction that tasted as if it were made from a block of solid sugar -- in him, Spike's knees started to bounce. He found himself cracking stupid jokes and babbling the most inane things at Fred as she worked.
"So then in '76, I decided I fancied bein' a blond," he said. "Dru left the bleach on too long, though, and I wound up stark platinum. Burned like hell, but after she showed me the Polaroid, I decided I rather liked it."
"What'd you say?" Fred asked distractedly, her bleary eyes focused on the monitor.
He took another sip of his over-syrapped beverage and grinned. "'Course there was that period in the mid '80s when I decided to give a bit of what-for to the little goth sorts. Dyed it pitch black. Got m'self all up like whosisname from Bauhaus --"
"Robert Smith?" Fred tried.
Oh, so she is payin' attention, he thought with a grin.
"No, that's the Cure, luv. Oh, bollocks, what the hell was that bloke's name?"
"Stanley Avenue!" Fred suddenly cried triumphantly.
Spike frowned. "Got no idea who that is, but I know that's not it."
"No, no, that's the street where they live!" She was beaming, eyes all twinkly and excited at her detective skills.
Spike's tongue drifted to the roof of his mouth and he set his jaw tightly as an entirely inappropriate thought presented itself to him.
Cup her face, you ponce! Grab the back of her beautiful neck and take her mouth! Pull her into your chair, take those long legs and wrap 'em around you! Let her feel what's goin' on in your trousers! Grind it against her, make her all --
She was snapping her fingers in front of his face.
"Spike? We go now? Yes? Earth to Spike..."
"Sorry, right, yes, off we go!" He pocketed the car keys before she had a chance to protest.
"Hey!"
"Oh, come on, let me behind the wheel for a change, eh?"
"You drive too fast," she pointed out.
"How would you know, pet?" he asked. "Never seen me drive, have you?"
"No," Fred replied. "I just somehow suspect that you drive fast."
He winked at her. "Buckle up."
She rolled her eyes, but acquiesced and headed for the passenger side. "Oh, and it's Peter Murphy," she said.
Spike was infinitely impressed. God, she could get me into so much trouble.
***
"Trouble. Lots and lots of trouble," Angel said as he stood up. "God, what was I thinking?"
Wes didn't meet his boss' eyes. "It's the firm," he told him. "They tried to put you in a thrall, and it's not holding quite as firmly as they'd like."
"Gunn... damnit, they've gotten to Gunn..."
"Very much so, it seems," Wes said. "He's on his way now to dust you."
"We've gotta get out of here."
Small beeps sounded across the room. Für Elise. Angel turned his head toward the source of the sound and spotted Fred's cell phone blinking on the coffee table.
Wes moved toward it and answered.
***
C'mon, pick up, pick up, pick up! Willow thought insistently. Her hands were free, but her feet were tied securely to the staircase banister. Spike -- or, no, not Spike... Spike's way evil twin -- had been too hasty, hadn't emptied her pockets. She'd thought at first of calling 911, but tell them what, exactly? "Help, my friends and I are being attacked by a vampire!" would definitely be seen as a prank call and ignored. Even if Fred couldn't do anything from LA, maybe she could at least --
"Hello?" came a male voice on the other end.
"Y - you're not Fred."
"No, not the last time I checked." There was a moment of silence. "Willow? Is that you?"
"Oh, Wesley! Thank God! Yes, it's me! Is Fred there?"
"No, not at present, but --"
A voice in the background. Muffled conversation.
"Wes?" Willow asked.
More silence.
"Hey, Willow." A different voice. Deeper. Worried.
Her eyes grew wide. "Angel."
From somewhere above her, Willow heard a clucking sound. She raised her head and found herself staring straight into cat-yellow eyes.
"And just what does the witch think she's doin'?" He plucked the phone out of her hand and flung it across the room.
Willow squeaked as he tore the rope from around her ankles, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her upstairs.
"Willow?" the small voice echoed from the speaker of the phone. "Willow?!"
***
"Willow's prob'ly gettin' her neck snapped even as we speak, boss."
Angel whipped around, tossing the phone to Wes. "Gunn, it doesn't have to be like this," he said tensely.
Again, the younger man's eyes clouded over, the fetid white substance milky and thick across his pupils. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, it really does, actually." He stepped closer to Angel and grasped him around the neck, lifting the vampire off his feet and crushing his windpipe.
Wes punched the phone off in frustration, unable to get Willow to respond on the other end. He lifted his head in time to see Gunn produce a stake from his jacket pocket.
"Gunn! No!"
Wes dove at him, trying to knock his legs out from under him, but Gunn merely kicked him away. "Yo, English, you wanna chill? I got my hands full."
Wes rose to his feet. "Put him down, Gunn. This isn't really you. You're under the influence of --"
Gunn's hand squeezed tighter around Angel's throat.
"Stop!" Wes begged. "Please!"
The stake inched closer. Angel scrabbled at Gunn's hand, trying to pry it from his neck.
"You wanna do something good for humanity?" Gunn growled. "Why don't you fucking die for it?"
He plunged the stake into Angel's chest, and the vampire dissipated into a swirl of dusty grey ashes.
Gunn's body went slightly limp at the moment of impact, and Wes took this opportunity to leap on him, pummeling his fists into his face until it was an unrecognizable bloody pulp.
From the doorway came the sound of clapping.
"You're so sexy when you've gone bad, lover," Lilah purred.
Chapter 16
She awoke to a brutal slap across her face, the familiar distorted features hovering above her. "You're all pathetically drowsy. Hope I didn't drain you too much, luv," he said with a smirk.
"I'm not your love," she told him.
He laughed. "Oh, right, you're all head over for the poncy bugger kept me all repressed. Stupid git."
Buffy set her jaw rigidly. "He was a good man," she said defiantly.
"Please," he said, punctuating his disdain with another slap. "That right bastard is nothin' but a waste of flesh."
Buffy struggled to sit up, but he was on her in an instant, pinning her arms to the bed with his knees. Her eyes narrowed. "You mean he was... don't you?" she asked suspiciously.
His breath on her neck reeked of blood and something else... something foul and dark. "No, he is, precious. You weren't entirely wrong. Your little fucktoy lives."
She gasped. "What?"
He licked along her jugular vein and snapped at the wound he'd inflicted earlier. "Yeah, for all the good it'll do 'im. Suspect he's on his way to play the white knight." He sat up, leering at her. "Wouldn't it be fun to snap his neck while you watch? Or maybe you'd like us to take you at the same time? Bet you've thought about it, two thick cocks shoved up inside you, one in your cunt and one in your hot, tight little --"
He was suddenly yanked off Buffy by an unseen force and thrust up against the door, unable to move. Buffy turned and caught sight of Willow, struggling to push herself up from the floor. She was chanting, and her eyes had gone bright red.
"Il daemon si rimuove. Il daemon è limitato. Il daemon perde l'alimentazione. Daemon da macinare!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he roared.
"Silence!" Willow commanded. She waved an arm in the air, sending bolts of bright blue electricity across his body. He convulsed, head lolling to one side.
Buffy dizzily crawled from the bed, weaving slightly until she reached the bag of weapons near the nightstand. She pulled out a stake and began to approach him.
"No!" Willow cried. "We can't kill him! We don't know what that'll do to Spike!"
***
Wes looked down at Gunn's bloodied face, then back up at Lilah. "This is all your fault," he said, standing. "You tempted us. You brought us in. This was never about rewarding us, letting us use your resources. This was about corruption from the very start."
"Gotta hand it to you, Wesley," Lilah said. "Never could pull the wool over your eyes."
"We're done. All of us. We quit."
Lilah surveyed the room. "Uh... and 'we' would be... who, exactly? The pile of dust? The guy you just sent into a coma? The girl who ran off with the ex-vamp?"
Wes struggled to maintain his composure. "There's... Lorne..."
She stifled a laugh. "Lorne's small potatoes, babe. Face it, there's really just you."
"Well, then, I quit."
"Suit yourself. Go on, go live a nice life all by your lonesome. No job, no friends... go be a good boy."
He gave her one last withering stare, then mounted the steps toward the door.
"Better go a little faster, darling," she called after him. "Somebody might've already called the police."
***
The house was small, cheerful, well-kept, but Spike and Fred didn't waste any time taking in the architecture when they heard blood-curdling screams from inside.
Well, so much for the easin' her into it, Spike thought. He kicked the door in and rushed inside.
The living room was in shambles, furniture overturned carelessly, glass broken and strewn across the carpet. The shouts were coming from behind a door to their left, but crashes and thumps came from upstairs.
Spike looked nervously at Fred. "You got anything you could use as a weapon?" he asked.
Her eyes darted around the room, finally settling on the remains of a table, smashed to shards of wood. She picked up one of the legs and hefted it in her hand, testing its weight.
"I'll be all right."
Spike nodded at her then listened hard to the various noises. The screams from behind the door were becoming clearer. Shouts for help, not pleas, not begging for something to stop...
Yeah, that'll be better for 'er, he decided.
"There," he told Fred, pointing her toward the door. "You go in there, I'm headin' for whatever's making the other racket." He jerked his head toward the stairs.
Fred's face was full of worry. "Spike... please... be careful."
He couldn't take it anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, Spike was at her side, pulling Fred into a tender, if brief, embrace. "You, too, luv," he whispered in her ear. He kissed her on the cheek and flew upstairs.
***
The basement was dark, but Fred could make out the source of the screams almost immediately after descending the small flight of stairs: a man and three women were here, one of them unconscious, all of them bleeding and badly beaten. The man was tied to a support beam by his wrists, two of the women were tied together around the door handle of a sub-zero freezer which they were struggling to knock over, and the unconscious woman lay unfettered across the concrete floor.
"Thank God!" the man said when he saw her. "A little help here, lady?"
Fred crouched down beside him and began working on the tight knots in his ropes. "Who did this to you?"
"Don't tell her anything," one of the women said. Fred turned to her, and the woman exhaled. "Fred. God, sorry, I couldn't tell who it was."
"Faith! What happened to you guys?"
The woman tied to Faith -- a girl, really, just a teenager -- shuddered. "Spike," she said with disdain. "A vampire. He's probably killing my sister as we speak."
Fred had gotten the man untied, and he immediately sank to the floor next the unconscious woman, trying to get her awake. Fred hurried to Faith and the girl, nimble fingers sliding between their bonds.
"Spike? No. No way," she insisted as she worked. "I brought him here with me. He's not a vampire anymore."
"Fred, no offense, but you're nuts," Faith countered. "Dude's all with the fangs and evil again. Looks like his soul got knocked out or somethin'."
"No!" Fred replied. "Spike is human. I met up with him in LA." The ropes were undone, and she pulled Faith and the girl to their feet, turning back to the man.
"Kennedy!" he was shouting into the woman's face. "Kennedy, wake up!"
"You've gotta get her to a hospital." Fred told him. "Outside, I've got a car. The keys are in the ignition." She looked at the girl, who was looking unsteady. She'd had a sizeable chunk taken out of her neck, and was feebly pressing her fingers into the wound. "Take her, too."
"Yeah, Xander, get 'em outta here," Faith said.
"Are you all right?" Fred asked.
Faith shrugged. "Five by five, Twiggy. Let's go stake us a vamp."
Chapter 17
The door banged open and something bulky crunched behind it, but Spike paid the sound no mind as he saw the glory before him.
Buffy.
Buffy wearing an expression that he seldom saw -- fear, confusion, agony, and...
Oh, my God, is that blood on her neck?
"Buffy!"
"Spike!"
She rushed to him, staring with open-mouthed disbelief at the rays of light emanating from the amulet around his chest.
"I can feel it, Buffy," he murmured in awe.
"What?"
He looked at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "My soul. It's really there." He gazed out at the multitudes of Turok-Han being dissolved and curled his lip up in a soft smile. "Kind of stings."
Her eyes were huge, scanning his face wildly, her golden hair shaking in a swirl around her heart-shaped face. "It's another trick, it's not real... it's..."
He strode to her, his hand cupping her cheek, gaping at her, his heart full. The tears flowed with abandon down his face as he beheld this vision.
"I mean it! I gotta do this!" He held out his hand to stop her from pulling him out of the beam, but instead of moving, she laced her fingers through his, their joined hands bursting into flames.
Her eyes were moist, and her face softened. "I love you," she quietly.
"God, Buffy, I love you."
All other thoughts gone, he took her into his arms and held her tightly. "Never, never gonna let you go, never again."
"No, you don't. But thanks for saying it."
Earthquake splitting the walls of the cavern... legs pumping hard and fast up crumbling flights of stairs... blinding, searing pain...
"Mine," she was sobbing. "You're real, you're here, you're --"
"Let's get a few things straight," an irritated voice sounded behind them.
Spike spun around and stared into his own face.
"He's only here because I am." The vampire sneered. "Off me and loverboy goes down, too."
"What the hell?" Spike mumbled. "The bloody First?"
The vampire sniffed. "Hardly, mate. I'm quite deliciously corporeal." He proved it by kicking his double in the chest. "And bit of advice... do take better care to touch up your roots, eh?"
***
Faith took only seconds to assess the situation. Screw this, we'll straighten out who's who later. She leaped on the vampire's back and began landing punches to his head.
"Faith, don't!" Willow shrieked.
Buffy knelt beside Spike, shaking him back to consciousness. He looked out of sorts and confused, but touched the side of her neck. "Did that?" he asked weakly, pointing to the vampire.
"Yeah," she said. "You okay?"
"Not so much," he replied. "Think the bugger..." He let out a whimpering laugh. "Think I cracked my own ribs."
"He's not you," Buffy said, her voice strong and assured. "Not hardly."
"B, come on!" Faith shouted. "Gimme a hand!"
Fred shot into the room and stooped next to Spike. "I'll take care of him," she told Buffy. "You help with that."
"Who... ?"
"Buffy, Fred, Fred, Buffy," Spike said, wincing. "Ow. 'S all right, Slayer, go."
Buffy scampered up and pulled Faith off the vampire, striking him squarely on the jaw. "Will, try something! Anything! Get this creep's batteries to run down already!"
"He broke through the first binding!" Willow shouted in frustration. "I - I need supplies!"
Faith sprang up and kicked the vampire in the back of the head, knocking him down.
He didn't get up.
"Screw binding, Red," she announced triumphantly. "Doc Martens, one; witchcraft, zip."
***
"Is that tight enough?"
"Plenty."
Buffy tightened the ropes.
"Ow! Watch it! What, I said it was tight enough!"
"Like I'm gonna take your word for it! Sheesh, Sp -- you! What, do I look totally stupid?"
The vampire opened his mouth, and Buffy punched him across the face. "On second thought, don't answer that."
She stood up and moved to stand next to Faith. "He tries anything..."
Faith nodded and held up her crossbow. "Motherfucker goes down before he's got a chance."
"Good." She went to the kitchen and slid into a chair next to Spike, while Fred hovered over Willow with a bottle of iodine. "Any word from the hospital?"
"Eek! Stinging!" Willow winced. "You said it wouldn't sting!"
"Sorry! Sorry, just hold still. I'm almost done," Fred assured her.
"Will? Word from Xander?" Buffy asked again.
"Ow! Uh, no, not yet," Willow replied. "I'm sure they'll be okay. God, I hope so. Kennedy... oh, geez, Buffy..."
Buffy patted Willow's hand. "She'll be fine."
Spike was staring through the door at the vampire, who scowled right back at him. "So terribly unnervin', that," he remarked.
The vampire jabbed two fingers in the air. "Bloody pillock," he sneered.
"Okay, that's enough outta you," Faith said. She ripped the corner off a throw pillow and shoved it into his mouth.
Spike chuckled softly. "Have I mentioned lately how much I like her?"
A foot kicked him sharply under the table. "Hey! Watch it!"
"Oh, sorry, was that you?" Buffy asked in mock innocence. "Focus here, people! We've got a doozy of a sitch going, and I don't need to have things further complicated by having to make sure you... um..."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, pet?"
She took a deep breath and clasped his hand in hers. "Obviously, you and I are going to have a totally uncomfortable Cosmo quiz moment later, but for right now..."
"Smack this puppy down, right B?" Faith called.
"Well, maybe. Hopefully."
Willow chewed her lip nervously. "You heard what he said, though, right? It's like I was afraid... we do something to him, and... Spike... um..."
"Dies," he said. "You can spell it out, Will. Not like I haven't died before, and rather recently, in fact."
"We're not gonna let it come to that," Buffy said. "We're gonna figure something out."
"You better," Faith said. "I don't like the way skeeze boy's lookin' at me."
***
Buffy's room was locked in shadows when she crept in quietly. Tossing her shoes on the floor, she sat down heavily on the bed. Immediately, a soft grunt and muffled expressions of pain met her ears. She shot to her feet and snapped on the small gooseneck lamp hanging on the wall above the nightstand.
"Think you crushed my wrist, luv," came Spike's sleep-roughened voice. He raised his head of mussed curls from the pillow and grinned at her. "Gotta look where you plant your lovely little ass."
Buffy's cheeks colored slightly, and she smiled back at him. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't know where you'd crashed."
Spike propped himself up, taking care not to strain his bruised ribs, wincing just enough to cause Buffy momentary concern. "You okay?" she asked.
He nodded, but Buffy knelt beside him on the bed and gingerly lifted his t-shirt. "Come off it," he chuckled. "Not playin' Florence Nightengale, just wantin' a peek. Can't fool me."
Buffy rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the black and blue shadows covering Spike's abdomen. "You might want to get this looked at tomorrow," she said. "I'm going back to the hospital in the morning. You could come with."
He shrugged. "If it'll ease your mind, that's fine, pet. How's Harris and the girls?"
Buffy let go of his shirt and drew her legs up onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "Xander's fine. He and Dawn lost a little more blood than they realized. Dawn needed some stitches."
"And Kennedy?"
Buffy frowned. "She's still unconscious."
Spike's mouth tightened into a thin line, and his brow furrowed. "Bastard really did a number on 'er," he whispered. "Fuck him." He gazed at Buffy with deep earnestness. "Don't let him live, Slayer. I know what he's capable of... God, do I ever..."
Buffy placed her hand on his shoulder. "We can't," she replied. "We're not gonna kill him. I'm not losing you."
"Well, here's bloody well hopin' Red finds another way, 'cause if he hurts anyone again, I'll take the blighter out m'self. Consequences be damned."
Buffy's tone was strong and determined. "I won't let it come to that," she informed him. "Anyway, Faith's still watching him, and we'll all take turns playing 'guard the hostage' until Will comes up with the answer. He's not getting free." She slowly leaned closer to him and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Everybody needs some rest," she murmured.
"Been a long day," Spike agreed. "Eh... do you want... I mean, I can go stretch out on the couch if you'd rather..."
Without a word, Buffy reclined on the bed, snuggling herself beside him.
"Take that as a 'no,' then," he said, enveloping her in his arms. He breathed in the scent of her hair, entwining his fingers with hers.
"How about a new rule," Buffy said with a contented yawn. "I won't sacrifice myself to save the world again if you won't."
Spike squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "Got yourself a deal, goldilocks."
Chapter 18
Wes huddled in the darkened alley, half sheltered from the pounding of the rain by the rusted tin roof overhanging the back door of what he liked to refer to as a "gentlemen's club." Though I suspect most actual "gentlemen's clubs" don't have flashing neon breasts on their signposts, he thought to himself with bitter amusement.
He'd withdrawn a thousand dollars from his bank account after leaving the Hyperion and had it converted to traveler's cheques, and now was attempting to break the password on Fred's voicemail. Wes punched in every possible combination of letters and numbers she might use, and glared at her cell phone in frustration each time he failed.
"Damn you!" he yelled at the phone, as if this would force it to cower and finally reveal its secrets. "What the hell did she use?!"
Lightning ripped through the sky as if in answer to Wes's predicament, and the wind shifted, sending the rain at an angle to render his shelter useless. Oh, lovely, yes, this situation just continues to improve by the minute.
He laughed ruefully. Fred, wherever the devil you are, if you have a shred of affection for me... he thought wildly as he pressed the buttons of the phone in one last brave attempt to crack the code. 9, 3, 7, 5, 3, 9... "Wesley."
Bingo.
Wes was shocked, and more than a little touched, but didn't belabor emotion. There might be a clue as to Fred and Spike's destination amongst her messages.
"This is Buffy... you talked to my friend Willow earlier..."
Of course!
Wes turned up the collar of his jacket and hunched his shoulders, seeking better refuge and quiet from the storm.
***
Gunn opened his eyes, but saw only a dark brown nothingness pierced through with faint flashes of light. He groaned. Everything hurt. A lot.
Light flashed again, and from somewhere very far away, he thought he heard someone calling his name.
"Come on, come on, Gunn, that's it," the voice was saying. Something cool and wet and slightly rough passed over his eyes, and the gritty brown substance was washed away, replaced by a blurry green.
"Lorne?" Gunn's voice was weak and hoarse.
"There you are!" The blur revealed a row of white teeth. A smile. "Let's get you on your feet, sweetie."
This sounded like an impossibility. "Pain," Gunn grunted. His mind reeled. Feel like I been drinkin' cheap whiskey all night, he thought. Ugh.
But despite the aches coursing through him and the inability of his legs to be anything but useless rubbery appendages, Gunn was lifted from the floor by the demon and steered to a couch. He forced himself to sit upright and willed his eyes to focus. There we go, better... but, Jesus, what a fucking migraine...
"Who did this to you?"
"It was --" Gunn stopped. "Freaky. Hell if I know. It was like... one minute I was in the car with Angel, and we were comin' back here to..."
"To what?"
"I can't... I don't remember."
Lorne looked around the lobby. "Where is Angel anyway?"
Think! Gunn urged himself, but nothing was coming to him. "We got in here... and there was..." Somebody else was here... Fred, and... some guy. And they left. "We were gonna talk to this dude," Gunn mused. "Angel was pissed off about somethin'." Gunn shook his head. "Shit. Sorry, man, it's just not makin' any kinda sense."
"Tell me about it," Lorne said. "I woke up about an hour ago, and it took me ten minutes to remember my own name."
***
"They don't want to play anymore."
Knox looked disappointed. "So they're all out?"
Lilah turned to the young man. "My deepest apologies," she said with slight disdain. "I know you had a little crush on your supervisor."
He grinned boyishly. "Uh... well, no, not, um..." he stammered.
"God, what is it about that skinny thing that turns guys to jelly?" she sneered, pacing the length of her office.
Knox's grin disappeared. "Sorry," he mumbled.
She passed a hand through the air dismissively. "Doesn't matter anymore," she told him. "I just need you to do me a favor. Tie up the loose ends back east."
Knox gaped at her, leaning back in his chair. "Woah, okay, does that mean I have to go ahead with the detonation?" he asked. "I thought you said it wouldn't come to that."
Lilah perched on the arm of his chair and playfully mussed his dark locks. "Don't think of it as murder," she cooed seductively. "Think of it as arson."
"But there's people in there!"
"Maybe," she said, leaning closer to him. "Maybe not. We're not really sure." Lilah brushed Knox's lower lip with her thumb and smiled as she saw him gulp. "Pretend there's not."
"I don't know, Ms. Morgan..."
Lilah slid one slender black-stockinged leg lightly across his lap, piercing the soft leather of the arm of the chair opposite the one she sat on with the sharp stiletto of her heel. Knox's eyes nervously roamed over her thigh with both lust and trepidation.
"Do it for me," she said, trailing a long crimson fingernail along his neck.
***
The barista looked up from her dog-eared comic book at the sound of the front door jingling open. A man entered, soaked to the skin, his face shadowed with stubble, short brown hair plastered to his forehead.
Wearily, the young woman sighed and hopped off her stool, shoving her reading material under the counter and spitting her gum into the trashcan as politely as she could.
"Monsoon out there, huh?" she asked amiably.
"Hrm? Oh, yes, yes, rather," he replied, sounding distracted and tired.
Oo, British guy, she noted. And kinda hot.
She smoothed the tiny half-apron covering her skirt. "Something to warm you up? Special tonight's a white chocolate mocha with --"
"No," he interrupted. "Just a coffee. Black." He dropped a slightly damp five dollar bill on the counter.
"Keep it," she said with a shrug. "Not like we're hopping right now, and you look like you deserve one on the house."
He flashed her a brief close-mouthed smile and took his money back. "Thanks."
She made a vague gesture to the room. "I'll bring it out," she told him.
He slumped into a booth and shrugged off his sodden jacket. When the barista brought him his coffee, he gave her a nod and another smile, wrapping his hands around the mug for a moment before withdrawing a cell phone from his pocket.
***
This is really not the kind of thing I went to M.I.T. for, Knox thought with disgust as he rode the elevator down to the lab. "Sounds like a good job," Mom said. "An offer too good to refuse," she said. Well, Mom, how would you feel if you knew your son was now barely more than an over-educated hit man?
He swiped his security card through the electronic lock, punched in the entrance code, and entered the sterile white room. "Word from on high," he told his assistant tersely. "Time for the B plan."
"I was afraid of that," Abe said quietly. "It's all set and ready to go. You want me to go ahead and initiate?"
Knox shook his head. "No," he replied. "Burden's all on me." He cocked his head toward the door. "Go home," he said. "If you're not here when I do it, your conscience'll be clear."
When the door shut behind Abe, Knox sat down at the terminal. He stared for a moment at the grid, black and white lines intersecting across the screen, small red dots glowing to indicate the positions of the explosives.
How does that song go? he wondered grimly as he cracked his knuckles, placing his fingertips lightly on the keyboard. The heart of rock and roll is still beating in Cleveland?
A flurry of typing, codes and coordinates, and the grid zoomed in to a higher magnification, one red dot blinking angrily.
Knox hit "enter," and the dot winked out.
He buried his face in his hands.
***
Darien's legs buckled, and she dropped to the floor, barely registering the pain of her tailbone making contact with the concrete. "They just... took him?" she asked.
"I couldn't do anything," Jay replied. "It was one of the Slayers, and --"
"Did he kill her?"
"No, he was... well, it was weird. He knew her."
Darien shook her head. "We never should've done this. Why did you talk me into taking the job?"
"She said --"
Darien sprang up and slapped her husband across the face. "She said. That woman!" she spat out. "Was that before or after you fucked her?!"
Jay held up his hands and backed away. "Look, not only my idea, the job. When I showed you the check, you didn't exactly balk. I seem to recall you even getting all excited about the ritual."
Darien folded her arms across her chest. "I thought we were just taking out the Regneast cult," she explained. "I thought we were just raising a higher being that would... take care of things."
Jay took a step forward and jabbed an index finger at her. "You did this for money and revenge," he said accusatorially. "Yavil killed your father, and you've spent the last thirty years building up this twisted vendetta bullshit. Well, baby, you got what you wanted, plus a nice chunk of change on top of it. So what if it meant summoning some lame Empath to get all morphy and fuck with the heads of a few people we don't even know? What do we care? We got paid. Don't even act like you're jealous just 'cause I might've gotten a little busy with that lawyer from LA. It's not like you're ever in the mood anymore."
Darien had her comeback all ready, and it was a doozy, too, but she never got to say it.
The warehouse exploded in a brilliant blaze of fire and deafening thunder. In minutes, Darien and Jay were reduced to nothing more than charred skeletons.
Chapter 19
This was no good.
Willow had been staring from the screen of her laptop to the pile of books strewn out over the kitchen table and back again so long her eyes were turning into little dry pebbles. She rubbed her temples and sat up straighter, willing herself to alertness.
Come on, there's gotta be something here, she thought through a foggy haze of sleep deprivation.
The fuzzy black shapes on the computer refused to refocus into words, so she stood up and went about the business of making a fresh pot of coffee. From elsewhere in the house, she could make out small noises: a squeak of bedsprings and the faintest hint of a snore from down the hall, Faith's deliberate footsteps pacing in the basement, and then the snap of a light switch behind her, sending the room into a pale fluorescent glow.
"Ah, sorry, Red. Thought everybody was off in dreamland."
Willow turned and saw Spike, running a hand over his face and neck, a sleepy smile curling up at the edges of his mouth.
"No rest for the researcher," she said. "You need anything?"
He pointed to the coffeepot. "Bit of that might be nice," he replied.
"Can't sleep?"
He shook his head. "Figured might as well give up," he said, leaning against the counter. "Sometimes I still have a spot of trouble keeping human hours. Night 'n' day all mixed up like."
Her hands trembled slightly, and Willow dropped the coffee scoop into the sink. Spike took a tentative step forward. "Easy there, Will," he whispered. "You feelin' quite yourself?"
"No." She let out a short laugh. "This is... weird. I'm, uh... I'm kinda mad at you."
He nodded and looked down at the floor. "Ah. For what happened to your ladylove..."
Willow retrieved the utensil and laid it gently beside the bag of coffee grounds. "No," she replied. "I get that the thing downstairs isn't you. Not this you... It's..." She turned to face him. "Buffy," she said with a shrug. "You killed a little piece of her when you... did what you did. I - I mean, okay, woo hoo... big yay with the noble sacrifice and all, but still."
"I catch your drift, Red."
"Just don't hurt her again, that's all I'm saying." She measured out two scoops of coffee and snapped the machine shut with a hard click.
"Got my word," Spike said quietly. He cleared his throat and grinned at her. "Also got my sincerest permission to let your eyeballs go all scary and shoot little sparks at me if I should even entertain the notion."
She couldn't help but smile at that. "Believe you me, mister, I wouldn't even waste a --"
Her words were interrupted by the soft jingle of her phone.
"Who's calling this late?"
Not the hospital, she thought furtively. Please, God, not bad news...
***
"That's no good."
"In a big, bad, ugly way," Lorne agreed.
"Maybe it's not what it looks like," Gunn suggested feebly.
"Stake plus dust minus boss," Lorne retorted. "I think it's exactly what it looks like."
They peered at the ashes for nearly a minute. Gunn knelt down and picked up the stake that had been dropped amongst them.
"Well... shit," he said finally.
Lorne looked away. "Where's Wesley?"
"You don't think he did this. He wouldn't."
"Whoever did..." Lorne shook his head firmly. "Something or other's way beyond rotten in Denmark."
***
2000 B.C.
Cairo, Egypt
The Seer convulsed and fell to the ground, shaking and clawing at the dirt with long, talon-like fingernails. Strong arms lifted her to a low platform, placing her on the marble surface with great reverence.
A cool, wet piece of folded linen was applied to her forehead, and she moaned softly.
"Was it unpleasant?" one of the group asked.
The Seer moaned again, then finally managed to sit up. "No more than the others," she replied. "The pain is but a small price to pay for the gift."
A robed figure entered the room, bearing papyrus scrolls and writing implements. He knelt before the platform, gesturing in reverence to the Seer, then sat cross-legged on the floor.
"I am ready," he said. "Share with us your vision."
The Seer's face went slack, and her eyes glazed over with a fervent sheen. She threw her head back, and when she spoke again, her voice was low and guttural, barely recognizable as human. Everything she said, the scribe wrote down quickly, only pausing to add more ink to his stylus.
"He who walks in shadows and consumes the bilious matter of man will find strength among the living. He will be restored to glory and be given that which he lost. His spirit will be weakened by the darkness of the unnamed one... the beast who has no form. And the beast shalt find him, and touch him, wounding him in his soul, and he shalt know madness. The beast shalt attack and wound him, and he shalt know neither friend nor family. But he shalt undo the beast through the properties of these sacred words, and he shalt be restored... he shalt survive the darkness and the battles, the plagues and hordes of the underworld, and he shalt be cleansed through fire. His reward will be to be purged of the curse which renders him empty. He will be restored to be as those who dwell within the cycle of life."
Her voice broke, and the Seer slumped forward, sobbing.
"Is it written?" asked the high priest.
"Yes," the scribe said. "It is written."
"Conceal the holy words," the priest ordered. "Cloak them in the languages of the ancient ones, and place the scroll in the keeping of the scholars so that we may discern its meaning when the time comes."
The scribe stood and bowed to the priest. "I am your servant," he said. He departed hurriedly.
"Wait," came the Seer's voice. "There must be something forged."
The priest sat beside her on the platform. "A part of the vision?" he asked.
"A jewel to crown him, the warrior... an agent of his cleansing," she murmured. "Crafted to purge the evil from his spirit and send it to the planes of hell."
"Show us how, and it will be done," the priest said.
***
Spike was paging through a book, taking no real notice of its contents, merely feigning research to keep himself from straining to hear Willow's phone conversation. She'd hung up after the first call, only to quickly make another. This one, he could tell, was to Giles, and the cadence of her voice was worrisome.
'Least it wasn't a doc tellin' her Kennedy didn't make it, he thought with relief. Still, things were full of instability right now, and whatever new information the witch had gotten wasn't likely to have been very good.
He glanced behind him at the living room curtains, noting the slight pink haze beginning to bloom behind the gauzy fabric. Slipping quietly from the sofa, he walked out to the front porch, shaking the last cigarette out of its pack and watching the sun slowly creep over the horizon.
If everything weren't so bloody well fucked at present, I'd be feeling quite good 'bout just being alive...
The door creaked behind him, but he didn't turn. He didn't need to, her scent was still unmistakable, even if his sense of smell wasn't nearly as keen as it used to be.
Her arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt her press her lips to his shoulder, leaning against him comfortably.
"Bit early for you, isn't it, luv?"
"You were gone," she said, a hint of playful petulance in her voice. "I don't remember saying you were allowed to get up."
He laughed. "Oh, I see how it is," he said. "Think you got me wrapped 'round your little finger, eh?"
Buffy released him and gave him a light swat on the arm. "Damn right. You got a problem with that?"
"Ah, the more things change, the more they stay the same," he said with a bemused grin.
Her own smile faded slightly. "You know," she said, "I, um... I do want things to change, Spike..."
He tilted his head to one side and looked at her thoughtfully. "How's that, kitten?"
"Us," she replied quietly. "I want..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I want to make something... real."
Spike dropped his cigarette, grinding it out on the planks of the porch with the heel of his boot. He took Buffy's hand in his, his thumb running lightly over her knuckles. "Always been real to me. Never stopped loving you, not for an instant."
"But you do know... I mean, when I said before... you..." She sighed and started over. "You have to believe that I love you, too."
He saw little tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and he brushed them away before they could fall. "That what this is about, then?" he asked. "My God... you think I didn't know? Buffy, I knew you loved me before you knew it yourself."
"Then why did you say that?" she whispered.
"Thought it was the end... I had to get you out. Couldn't have standed it if I went to my death thinkin' you wouldn't have a chance to live a long, happy life of your own..."
Buffy looked across the lawn, her eyes darting over the sky as it began to melt from pink into gold. "It hasn't been very happy without you."
He took her into his arms and held her close, their hearts beating nearly in tandem. "No more of that," he promised her. "And no more of the fear, eh? I'm back, not goin' anywhere, so you bloody well better just cheer the hell up, right?"
Buffy giggled, pulling away from him just enough to kiss him, long and tenderly. When at last she released him completely, Spike was delighted to see a wide, happy grin on her face.
"So... hmm..." she said, her bright green eyes sparkling in the crisp morning light. "Does this mean you'll be, you know, my boyfriend now?"
"Thought of m'self as that since the moment I realized you'd wormed your way in here," he said, tapping his chest. "But, s'pose it's nice to make it official like." Spike glanced to the front door. "Er, well... that is..."
Buffy placed a fingertip against his lips. "I know," she said. "I was stupid and wrong before. I'm gonna tell them all about this."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"What if your merry gang finds it a problem?" he asked. "Think it's safe to assume I'm never gonna earn everyone's trust."
Buffy shrugged. "For one thing, I think saving the world got you mega trust points. And for another, if somebody wants to complain that I'm being stupid, I don't care. It's my life, and I don't want to have to hide who I choose to share it with."
Spike leaned in to kiss her again, but stopped when the door opened abruptly.
"Guys," Willow said tensely. "Meeting. Now."
"Will?" Buffy's brow furrowed. "Good news or bad news?"
"A little of both."