Wolfgang sipped calmly from his wine glass, contemplating his latest
defeat.
He had been foolish to underestimate his enemies, but it would not
happen
again.
The vampire peered under the blanket to see the stumps that had once
been his
legs. Yes, the Slayer had indeed ensured that he would never face his
enemies again. If only he had stayed away from her...
Soon his minions would discover the secret he kept hidden in his bed.
He was
useless; he had been reduced to literally a mere fraction of the man he
once
was. And as all men wronged Wolfgang wanted vengeance. But he could
not
seek it personally...would not seek it personally.
He would find someone much more powerful.
Someone who held power over her.
*****
With the advent of morning the world resurrects itself and breathes
anew.
The sky alights with fresh promise, and colors that night misplaces are
found
once more.
Buffy missed the dawn; missed the sun's embrace. Spike could tell by
the way
she'd sit closer to the window during the day, lying on the bed as if
sunbathing. There were times when he wondered whether or not she could
be
happy as a vampire. Yet he did not regret turning her. He had saved
her the
agony of a slow death, and for this he would never be sorry. Even now
as he
watched her peering out the blinds, pushing apart the flaps with gloved
hands
to protect herself from the forbidden light.
Inevitably she drew too close and the sunlight caught her eye. The
blinds
were flung violently away as she threw herself to the floor, cursing.
Rubbing her eye she removed the glove and discarded it into a drawer.
Spike rolled over on his back and closed his eyes, pretending-for the
sake of
her pride-that he hadn't seen. But when she climbed into their bed he
gave
his ruse away by enfolding her in his arms.
"Do you love me, Slayer?" he asked, muffling his voice in her hair.
She
tightened the covers around their shoulders before answering with a
quiet,
"Yes."
"Then stay away from the Gods-be-damned window." And his arms grew more
possessive, pulling her closer as if to prevent her from leaving their
bed,
though she might have easily wrenched herself free or knocked him
unconscious. Buffy was pretty much capable of doing an endless amount
of
damage to anyone. Soul or no soul, she still had a demon. The
question was;
could she live with it?
"Spike, are you listening to me?"
Her elbow in his gut alerted him to the fact that she had been
speaking.
"Sorry, Pet, what was that?"
With a heavy sigh she pulled herself free of his grasp and retreated to
the
other side of the bed. It wasn't important anyway.
*****
"No." He lit a cigarette and took a puff, admiring the resulting ring
of
smoke rather than listening to Giles. His fellow Englishman had been
trying
to coddle him yet again into one of those missions to annihilate
another
vampire master from lala land.
Whatever. Spike wasn't interested.
"You don't understand." stammered Giles. "This is in Allantownship.
It's
less than forty miles east of here!"
From the couch Buffy interjected. "If it's so close how could
infiltration
possibly be successful?" She stared disapprovingly at her husband,
still
lost in his tobacco high. "We'd be recognized right off the bat."
Xander smiled. "But, Buff, they're scared shitless of you. You
wouldn't
have to infiltrate...just order around."
From his position by the bar counter Spike regarded the statement with
what
Buffy hoped to be satisfaction. Spike, however, took no pride in
Xander's
statement. Generally he might have felt some sort of accomplishment,
but at
the moment his mind was too preoccupied. Instead him moved into the
kitchen
and flipped his half-smoked drag into the sink. "Well, I won't have
any part
in it." he shouted around the wall before reappearing. Buffy observed
him in
continued surprise. Didn't Spike usually enjoy violence? And he'd
always
liked the idea before...
Her husband was an enigma. He could be studied for years without
yielding
information, nor would she have any luck deciphering his thoughts
tonight.
Thus she remained silent, confident that he would tell her later what
he was
planning. But he only made things more complicated.
"I don't want the Slayer involved either."
Heads shot up. "Spike, I'm the key!" she sputtered incredulously.
With a
quick glance at her friends they saw she was asking for support which
Giles
immediately attempted to give.
"Well, of course I understand that you've just gotten through a
mission." he
reasoned. "Perhaps you would appreciate a bit of a vacation..."
"Forget it." the vampire cut him off and then reached for another
cigarette.
"I'm sick of these ?missions.' Cut me out...the Slayer too." And he
walked
out, stopping only to ponder whether he ought to take his wife's coat.
But
of course she wouldn't follow him, so there would be no need.
He left it hanging in the closet.
*****
The coat reappeared after an hour when Buffy tossed it at his head. He
plucked it off, grouching that her cast had bent the cover of his
magazine,
but her indignant glare silenced him.
"What did you think you were doing back there?! Acting the big,
possessive
chain smoker..."
"Possessive my ass!" he glowered. "Don't you know every time we go on
one of
those missions you come back different?"
"Different?" her voice was full of stubborn disbelief.
"That's right, Pet. Different. You don't eat as much, you won't step
away
from the window during the day. You won't touch me let alone look me
straight in the eye."
She tried to stare at him directly, just to spite him, but found
herself
unable to meet his gaze. Still, her voice retained its false
convictions.
"And all this is somehow because of killing vampires?"
He stood suddenly, hurling his magazine to the floor. "You don't just
kill
them, you mutilate them. You tear their limbs off and drown them in
holy
water. You hate vampires; you hate them and you hate yourself."
"Maybe I just hate you..." but her voice wavered and gave her away.
"No you don't, Luv. But every time you're around demons it does
something to
you. It'd be better if you took a break for a while." he enfolded her
in
his arms and laid kisses upon her neck and hair. If he could get her
into
the right mood everything would be forgotten. However, Buffy had other
ideas. She pushed him away.
"I can't take a break."
"Bloody Hell, woman, I made a decision!"
"Yeah, without consulting me." She growled. When his eyes rolled she
slapped him across the cheek. Not hard, but forceful enough to gain
his
attention. "Listen to me! I do have some say in this marriage. But
lately
it's always been, ?Buffy, do this' ?Buffy you can't do that...'"
"?And if I can't handle your little campaign for equality, I should get
out.'
Isn't that your usual line, pet?"
She flinched, but not visibly enough for Spike to notice anything but
her
apparent stoicism. "Right." she sneered. "I mean it this time. I
really
don't want to live with someone still in the 18th Century."
He didn't move; he refused to buy into her act of non-chalance. On
many
prior occasions pride had become their undoing. "Buffy," he started
calmly.
"I'm not trying to be difficult or bossy-although I must admit you
couldn't
say the same... But I'm not leaving the house. I just don't see why
we
always have to run out every shit-wadding moment to kill off some
lame-ass
fledglings in the most painstakingly slow manner possible."
"Slow!?" she exclaimed. "I'll be glad to stay home when you come up
with a
better way to take out a city's entire vampire population. God, Spike,
we're
helping people! Isn't that reason explanation enough?"
"Helping people!" he cried. "I don't want to help people; I'm a demon.
I
want to eat people." He'd meant to be half-way comical, but all it
accomplished was to further incite the Slayer's fury.
"Well," she spoke coldly. "It's not like I can make you any more than
you
are. Go hunting if you want...just don't come home."
He shook his head. "I'm not leaving, Pet." He watched her face for a
reaction and saw regret. Regret? His wife collected her coat from the
couch
and backed away. "And I can't stay."
*****
He knew when she left she wasn't gone for good. She'd just meant that
she
had to help people...she'd be back. The argument hadn't been that
serious,
after they'd had plenty worse. She just didn't want to stop the
missions.
Right? He'd see her soon enough. Maybe the missions could go on
without
him, but she couldn't.
But he knew he'd been right in the argument. Always before the
missions had
been enjoyable for him, but not for her. She was never the same after
they
completed one. It almost seemed that by coming into such close contact
to
the garbage of her own kind she had learned to hate herself. She would
return full of such self-loathing...she'd never tried to look at the
sunlight
before.
Perhaps he feared that one day she wouldn't come back at all and he
would
loose the girl he'd fallen in love with. But he certainly didn't fear
her
absence now. She'd be home in the morning.
And when she wasn't he still didn't worry because she'd come home in
the
evening. Nor did he watch for her at night because he expected she had
somehow been detained. But after a week of being alone his confidence
had
become significantly diminished to the point where he actually called
Willow
and Oz. And Giles. And even Xander. But none of them answered.
*****
Allantownship had become a haven of demons and vampires-essentially an
extension of the Hellmouth, but without the Slayer. Or so Giles had
said.
Yet as Spike entered within its city limits he was unable to detect a
single
demon amongst the sprawling suburban populace. But then Buffy had
always
been a quick worker. Probably everyone had run off after hearing the
rumors
of her presence.
"Have you seen her around?" he asked for the hundredth time without
success.
"Young woman, barely 20, blonde. Goes by the name Buffy Summers..."
"You know her?" a young man asked cautiously from two barstools down.
"Of course I know her, you dolt. Why else would I be asking?" Spike
observed with curiosity the expression which leapt to the man's face.
"I
don't suppose you do..."
The man's eyes lowered sadly. "I...I did."
"Where is she?" growled Spike. When he didn't receive a response he
grabbed
the lapels of the man's jacket. "Tell me!" he shook him.
The man's stood jiggled as the vampire shook him. "I don't know!" he
exclaimed. "I haven't seen her in years..." He bowed his head and
mumbled
quietly-almost incoherently- "I thought she was dead."
And suddenly Spike recognized him. Instantly he released the human,
but
examined the face with a scrutiny worthy of any detective. The man was
older, darker as well...but he remembered this boy. He had once envied
him.
Collecting himself, Spike stood straight and brushed off his duster.
"She is
dead, mate." he watched the boy's head sink further as all hope died.
"She's
dead to you."
Then the man's head shot up with horror-stricken eyes...eyes that
understood.
******
Riley left the bar once again, a tangled mess of alcohol and unshaven
stubble. He hadn't shaven in days, but he never had been able to grow
a
beard so it didn't really matter. But he was a wreck and had been ever
since
that night.
Dear God, he had thought he'd moved on. But he couldn't now...not
knowing
what had happened to her.
He'd been gone that last semester on an exchange program to England,
working
on his doctorate at Cambridge. She'd sent him letters and e-mails.
Sometimes presents. They brightened his day as well as his love for
her...until they stopped. He didn't know why, but he found out upon
his
return to Sunnydale. Because she was gone...and all that remained was
the
gravestone. Her mother had blamed it on leukemia; it hadn't gotten
bad, but
it had slowed down her fighting. She hadn't told him Buffy had been
turned.
He'd been called here to catch a vampire...could it be her?
*****
The sewer's stench still slung to his clothing so he burned them.
Unfortunately, he could not do the same to himself and was forced to
waste
time in the shower. A full hour of scrubbing before the soap began to
help.
He'd searched every section of the underground hoping to find a lair,
but
came up with nothing other than the usual refuse. But then Buffy had
probably moved the hideout...she never had found the sewers suitable
for a
queen. He would probably have to investigate the mansions next.
But the mansions proved fruitless as well-thought one had provided the
site
for an appetizing snack. Perhaps she and her friends had gone
somewhere
besides Allantownship, but considering how it had been the topic of all
recent conversation it didn't seem logical.
He just needed some sort of clue.
And sure enough, in the midst of his turmoil, as he descended the
walkway of
yet another dead end his search came to an abrupt end. Something hit
him
from behind...a jolt of light that froze his limbs and shook his
bowels. He
swore in his mind, cursing his stupidity. He had forgotten the boy.
Riley Finn removed his mask and sauntered toward the fallen vampire,
gun
raised and loaded. Spike couldn't even close his eyes to same himself
the
pain of watching his killer. And then, miraculously, the world turned
black.
But the world reappeared, this time as a dismal hotel room stockpiled
with
rifles and tranquilizers.
"Good, I was hoping you'd wake up before dark." Riley pointed to the
cheap
metal clock which displayed the time. Half a day had passed since his
capture.
"Lemme go, mate. I don't have time for this." He struggled futilely
in his
bonds.
"Yes you do." the boy informed him, handing him a thermostat. "It's
blood.
Human. I'll give it to you if you cooperate."
"Bug off; I'm not your bloody dog."
Riley sighed. He hadn't meant to be condescending. Not really. Nor
could
he afford to be if he wanted Spike's help.
"I didn't bring you here to be my dog. So don't worry. You're here
because
of what you told me. Is it true?"
"Is what true?" he responded obstinately. There was no chance in hell
he was
going to give this boy an easy time.
"Is Buffy a...vampire?"
Spike narrowed his eyes in distaste for the way Riley said her name.
And
whether he did it out of jealousy or unwillingness to give out
information he
still refused to speak. This boy he remembered well now that he had
shaven
and sobered. He was that damned scholar whose name Buffy once
whispered in
her sleep.
"Is she a vampire?" repeated Riley, impatiently.
"She's my wife." Spike finally answered, surprising the human.
"I didn't think vampires married." the hunter replied glumly.
Spike snorted. "They don't. But we did."
Riley eyed his prisoner with envious disgust. At that moment he wanted
nothing more than to stake the vampire. After all, by letting him live
he
was defying all that he had ever been taught...but so what? He'd done
that
before.
"So why are you looking for her?" asked the Human. "Did she leave
you?"
Spike hissed in his bonds, choosing to ignore how close the boy was to
the
truth. "She disappeared. But I know she's here."
The human nodded almost imperceptibly. "I know too."
Instantly, the vampire's temper erupted. "You lying bastard! You told
me you
didn't." He attempted to kick him, but the chains held firm. "I
should have
killed you when I had the chance."
"I didn't know she was a vampire!" he defended himself. "For me she's
been
dead seven years."
Spike fumed as he waited for the inevitable explanation. It came after
Riley
crossed the room to examine his guns. "I was called here by the
Watcher's
Council ten months ago. They gave me a room, some money, and told me
my
services wouldn't be needed for a while, but I should get comfortable
with
the town. They didn't know I'd gone to college around here, so instead
of
exploring I spent most of my time in bars. That's how you found me."
He paused to pick up a key and returned to Spike, obviously debating
whether
or not to free him. "I was called here to hunt a vampire. No big
deal;
that's my job. But I'm sure you've noticed this town is vampire free.
So
when the Council called me last night and told me my services were no
longer
necessary and knowing what I do about Buffy..."
"You realized they'd already gotten her." finished Spike through
gritted
teeth.
The human's mouth tightened into a thin smile as he watched the vampire
eying
his keys. "I can lead you to their headquarters." said Riley. "You
promise
not to fight?"
*****
She had walked directly into their trap, thinking she was setting one
of her
own. She hadn't even sensed the danger until the dart had found her
neck.
Now Buffy was chained to the wall, a constant object of study and
attention.
Her friends, from what she had heard, were being held in separate rooms
and
forced to undergo psychiatric therapy. Buffy found the entire scenario
quite
amusing. Willow had majored in psychology, after all. She'd give
those
Watchers a run for their money.
Unfortunately, Buffy's problems were not nearly as simple as her
friends'.
They were human; their safety was assured. Hers, however...
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHH!" she shrieked as one man pressed a cross against her
exposed and wounded side.
"Interesting." he commented. "You say you have a soul, and yet you
burn
under the application of holy objects."
She struggled to conquer the pain before lifting her head. "No shit,
Einstein. I think someone has to re-read the definition of ?vampire.'"
she
choked hoarsely, trying with all her strength not to vamp out. As soon
as
they saw her game face they saw her demon. And there would be no mercy
when
that happened.
"Oh, I have read the definition." said the Watcher. "It's just that
you
claim not to fit into it."
Buffy didn't respond. Instead she lowered her head and closed her
bleeding
eyes, willing the pain to disappear. She was still a Slayer-the wound
would
heal within an hour. Or it would if they fed her. She hadn't eaten in
days...and there was such a wonderful smell of living flesh coming from
every
direction.
All around her she could hear the Watchers and smell their blood as
they
paced back and forth, scribbling notes on their clipboards and
discussing
solutions to the "Slayer" problem. Their bodies were old and decrepit,
and
smelled of ancient things. But she was starving...and how could
starvation
afford to turn down a loaf of stale bread?
Everywhere...her vampiric hearing magnified their footsteps and made
their
heart beats seem like thunderclaps. But her arms were bound; she
couldn't
cover her ears or her nose or will herself to stop hungering. If she
slipped
once that would be the end. Still, if she could wait until her friends
escaped. Or maybe Spike would come to find her!
"Buffy Summers?" her thoughts stilled at the familiar voice. When she
moved
her head she could see him, standing very still and pale. Wesley.
He was older, and wore a full beard to hide that snobbish chin. He had
lost
that pompous stance of his younger days, and for his this she could
almost
like him.
He was frowning. "I never thought I'd see the day when anyone could
treat
you this shamefully."
She raised her head higher, with a silent entreaty that would make any
heart
weep. But Wesley wasn't paying attention.
"Well," he said. "That's what you get for not following Council
protocol."
It was then that she realized that pompous stance had only been lost
due to
the limp in his step. Time had not humbled Wesley Wyndham-Price. Nor
had it
improved his intellect.
"Nevertheless," he continued. "We shall be merciful. As long as you
promise
not to resist-and I wouldn't recommend it-we will release you from your
bonds..."
"Good." she ripped the chains from the wall, twisted off her wrist
cuffs, and
proceeded to do the same with her leg bindings.
But as she bend down there was a rip and the sound of metal on bone as
a
crossbow bolt firmly embedded itself in her shoulder.
It took the last of her strength as the demon howled in agony and burst
forth, enraged by pain and shock.
"Good God, Wesley." cried one of the older Watchers. "She could have
escaped
any time she wanted."
"And killed us at her convenience, I'm sure." added Wesley, studiously.
"But
she didn't." His feet drew him nearer. "Why?"
There was grumbling from the man group of the Watchers and one shouted
out a
vain warning. "Careful, Price, it could be a trick."
Against the stone floor Buffy could hear the slow scrape of Wesley's
lame
foot until it stopped and his feet appeared in front of her eyes.
"Leave us." he ordered with a confidence she had never known him to
possess
before. There was some debate which dragged on in her lazy ears, but
soon
enough she found herself alone with her former-Watcher.
He regarded her with bemusement. "You were never half so complacent
while
you were human." he said.
"Complacent?" she repeated sluggishly. His words were melding together
in
her exhausted mind as she struggled for clarity.
"Yes, we thought your capture would be far more difficult to obtain."
He opened his jacket and produced a small pouch of blood which she
devoured
greedily. Upon finishing she wiped away the evidence of her barbaric
display
with her still freed hands.
"From what we've learned of you; you're quite the fighter in your
present
form."
She smiled, the blood had reinstated some of her old strength and
sarcasm.
"I hadn't expected the Council to be so interested in my affairs. But
apparently you weren't interested enough or you might have discovered
that
I've been evil-free for quite some time."
"Well, according to our reports you're quite the ruthless killer."
"And proud of it." she snorted at his look of self-satisfaction. He
had
diagnosed her as soulless, perhaps. "I kill vampires, Sherlock."
"But you didn't kill Wolfgang."
And there was his bait. Wolfgang had been a typical encounter. Buffy
had
found him, he had challenged her, and she had left him to the mercy of
his
minions which was the ultimate insult to a great vampire master.
Wesley was
obviously trying to prove she fell into the usually category of
vampiric
sadism.
"Wolfgang? I left him a smoking stump for a reason. To send a message
to
other vampires not to cross my path."
"Yes, but he was still fully capable of killing other humans."
countered the
Watcher.
"What, with no legs his minions actually let him live!?" exclaimed the
vampiress in disbelief.
"Yes, and he even survived to divulge information to the
council...regarding
you." he shook his head regretfully and rebalanced his weight on his
cane and
injured leg. His eyes went far away into the memories of his mind.
"We lost
track of you years ago-assumed you were gone for good, in fact. But we
also
lost track of Faith and since that day we have been unable to locate
the new
Slayer."
Buffy listened attentively. Although Wesley had not said anything that
was
new, he was definitely headed in a path she did not want to follow.
She
wanted to know where he stopped.
"You see, a Slayer that becomes a vampire never really dies. So a new
Slayer
can't be called. But then, you knew that."
She remained expressionless. "The Council has been powerless all these
years. I'm really feeling your pain."
"You should, because you are caught in the very center of the conflict.
There are many in the Council willing to believe whole-heartedly in
Wolfgang's testimony to your cruelty. We have only to kill you in
order to
call the next Slayer; your soullessness would be a convenient excuse."
Buffy examined him sadly. "A convenient excuse. So you knew that a
Slayer
keeps her soul no matter what."
He nodded. "Everyone knows that, but this is a matter of politics. Of
control. I think you understand. Still...it's not to late to save
yourself."
"How?" She asked, but she already knew what he would say. He would ask
for
Faith and he would tell her to play Judas for the silver of freedom.
Faith
had betrayed her once, but she had nearly died for it.
"Where is Faith?" Wesley bent lower and stared into her yellow
demon-eyes.
"You know. Now tell me where she is."
"Never." The offer wasn't even tempting.
"You were enemies once; you fought to the death...what can it mean to
you
now?" Exasperation was plain on his face. He had meant to corner her.
"We were never enemies." answered Buffy, tightly. Maybe it was true
and
maybe it wasn't. Faith wasn't her enemy, Faith was her foil. Her
equal, and
her greatest challenge. But her death wouldn't save Buffy. And she
told the
Watcher so.
"God dammit, Buffy, the Council doesn't want two Slayers! They're
impossible
to control."
"Control!" she quoted mockingly. "You see? Everyone wants control.
Oh,
Wesley, how little you have learned from yourself."
Anger flashed into his eyes, furious, yet full of admiration that this
girl
would never respect him. "You're a good fighter, Buffy. It will be a
waste
to loose you...but the Council will never see that."
