A/N: I realize that I just posted yesterday, but I wanted to get this one out to you. This series is my first love and lately my muse has been cooperating (with some helpful kicks from my beta, Hortense) and I can't bring myself to hold onto a chapter once it's done. Let's hope this productivity keeps up for awhile, huh?

Carnivore

Chapter 4 - Search

Tipping the tears back into my eyes and blinking them away as I left the front entryway of the castle, I made my feet carry me to the library, which was once again Giles' domain. Despite all the familiar smells of yellowing paper, old ink, and cracking glue, I hated it in there. More often than not it was crawling with the youngest of the young slayers. Weak slayers. Just like Buffy in the beginning, I loved and hated all of them for being strong, but not yet strong enough. As much as I fought it, they smelled like prey, like food - more so than the humans because even the small slayers were a challenge compared to your average person. I wasn't overly worried about what I might do to them, not after everything the Powers put me through, not after falling in love with Spike, but I did worry about what other monsters would do to them for daring to think they could fight back. Monsters like the one who'd taken Buffy.

And there, sitting behind his tall desk, squinting through his glasses as he read a dusty tome, was the other reason I hated the library. Giles. We'd been pointedly ignoring each other for years, when we could, and moving to Scotland didn't do much to change that. Except when he got wind of the fact that Buffy was dating both me and Spike. That made all his paternal hackles rise, and so all of the dealings I'd had with him since were rife with tension. I supposed I could understand some of it, given everything that had happened in the past, but I was hoping things would get better as time went on. As I saw him that evening, I morosely hoped that there would still be a reason to patch things up with Giles once this whole thing was over. That there would still be a Buffy.

Because I would miss her, yes, but I couldn't stand the thought of how Spike might take her death. He'd been so insistent we should be with her, so sure of it. Sometimes I wondered if he knew something I didn't, some reason why being with Buffy would fix everything. I didn't know it needed fixing until that afternoon, when Spike let out everything he must have been holding onto for months, if not decades. He'd said he wanted to pay me back for everything I'd given him, but that implied he owed me something, which I really couldn't comprehend. He owed me? He'd given me a way out from under the Senior Partners; he'd given me a reason to keep fighting. He'd given me hope and love, when it all seemed to be crumbling apart. No, I owed him. Or maybe we were even. But would I really be able to convince him otherwise? Did I even want to?

Like I thought he might, Giles glared when he saw me, but didn't say anything because lucky for me, Dawn was there to chaperone. She waved me over to the main row of tables leading back from the doorway, saying, "Welcome, Dead Boy."

"Oh, great," I sighed, taking a seat across from her and her slayer, Rita, who was also my part-time assistant, "just when I thought Xander had outgrown calling me that…"

"Pssht," Dawn scolded, passing me a book. "Not important right now. You wanna look through Mellman's Compendium? Unless you've got a better idea where we should be searching?"

I wracked my brain, trying to come up with something, some fragment or memory that would help us figure out what Carnivora was, what he could do, and where he might be, but all I could think about was how empty and silent the chair beside me felt. So, I shook my head and took the volume Dawn gave me, skimming though it quickly.

No, this wasn't right. These were all lesser demons and half-breeds. Carnivora was one of a kind, probably if not one of the original Fallen, one of their get. From what Darla had told me, he was no mere foot soldier, but a general, and he made some sort of deal with the Master. She'd said what the agreement was, I hadn't been listening and now I couldn't remember. It probably had something to do with getting rid of a slayer who was causing the Master too much trouble.

This thing fed on slayers. I knew that much. But he had only ever had one slayer to go after at a time, and she could pop up anywhere around the world, so it could have been years or decades for him between kills. What kind of power could he accumulate given the seven slayers he'd taken today? What about the thirty that had gone missing in the past six months? And any number of others Buffy's people hadn't known about before he took them?

Now there were hundreds, maybe a thousand slayers all at once, would Carnivora just keep gobbling them up until there were none left? Or just one, like there used to be? Would he make some sort of catch and release game out of their lives? Could any of the slayers walk through the night without fear again?

As selfish as it was, I wanted Buffy to be the one left alive at the end, if this truly was a purge. The Slayer. Our slayer. She had to come back. Spike promised he would return her, but how much could I count on a promise like that? I was sure he would try with everything he had to rescue her, and he was good, better than me, more apt to survive. But that only meant so much if she was already gone.

What could I find here to help him? Some piece of information, some spell that could tell Spike how to find her, how to bring her back, had to be in this library somewhere. Without that, I feared Spike would go too far trying to save her and lose himself in the process. Something about the conversation we'd had made me think that Spike was trying to lose himself in me, in what I wanted, rather than what was good for him, too. God, how could one person love me – me – that much? It didn't seem possible or even wise.

Then again, if Spike had ever been wise about matters of the heart, he would have given up on Dru's insanity within a month, or maybe a year. Instead, he stuck by her for over a century, taking care of her, keeping her safe in my absence. He was stupid about her then, what I'd gathered from Buffy said that he'd been stupid about her too, and now he was being stupid about me. But when the man you're in love with tells you exactly what would make him happy, even if it's stupid and self-sacrificial, how do you refuse to meet him halfway?

And now it had been ten hours, with only sporadic word from either Spike or Xander, and nothing to be found in either Mellman's Compendium or any of the other six dozen books I pawed through. For a guy with a giant's reputation in the underworld, Carnivora was relatively unknown to the humans. I knew demons that might have information, but I couldn't just call them up, ask them some questions and get any sort of reliable information on the beast we were looking for. No, I would have had to beat the information out of them, which sounded entirely too satisfying at the moment. And I couldn't fucking leave the castle grounds.

The limitation was getting old, real quick.

And then Dawn muttered, "Oh, no," and my heart dropped into my shoes at how hopeless she sounded. "I think we should send more people," she added, looking up as Giles came over to the table and took the book from her hands. He frowned and nodded before retreating back into his office. It seemed the hopelessness was catching.

It took the rest of the night for Spike to track Buffy's scent through the woods, the rest of us following him dutifully. We moved through the trees and the underbrush as quietly as eleven people could in the middle of the night. Georgia's body sat in Buffy's car, under a preservation spell in lieu of embalming her in the field. I had to say, as much as magic wigged me out sometimes, it definitely came in handy for occasions like this.

Around four in the morning, I whispered to Spike, "It'll be dawn in an hour and a half. We should find you some shelter before too long."

Taking a long, deep breath through his nostrils, like he'd been doing all night, Spike shook his head and pointed forward into the darkness. "Comin' up on a cave. Can smell it, mate. Dawn won't be an issue."

"Oh, I think you're mistaken," I chuckled, holding out my phone as it buzzed for the thirtieth time that night. "You wanna talk to her this time, or should I?"

Spike pursed his lips in my direction, his eyes flashing eerily in the light from my flashlight, before he whispered, "Nah. Already told her everything I could, yeah? Probably just checking in again to make sure we aren't dead."

"Well, we aren't any deader than we were before we left," I smirked, chuckling when the vampire just raised one eyebrow, shook his head, and turned back to leading us toward Buffy. And according to his nose, the rest of the missing slayers were with her too. So, I flipped open my phone and said, "Still here, Dawnie. I'll call you if something different happens, okay?"

"Oh," a very male voice stuttered. "N-no, Xander, it's Giles."

"Dawn get you to take over the pestering for her?" I asked, trying to follow Spike through the forest without falling on my face while juggling a phone, a flashlight, and a reduced field of vision.

"No," the Watcher said. "I've got some information for you regarding this Carnivora fellow."

"Really?" I asked, covering the mouthpiece and hissing, "Hey, Spike. Hold up a minute."

Sighing, the blonde stopped and turned, sighing, "What now?"

"What sort of information are we talking about here, Giles?" I said into the phone, knowing Spike and Bethany, who was trudging up behind me, would hear.

"It seems that he does indeed get his power from the gruesome destruction of slayers, which is worrying in and of itself..."

"But...?" I prompted him, knowing that whatever he was trying to say had to be bad. Though sometimes, Giles had more trouble telling good news. This was definitely not one of those times.

"But," he continued, "Although Carnivora usually hunts alone, historically he has had control over a cult of powerful sorcerers and often hires lesser demons for physical tasks."

"So, lots of magic," I summed up for everyone's benefit, "lots of demons, and no slayers allowed."

Sighing, Giles replied, "Yes, that's about it. Oh, and Dawn says he's sure to have some pretty nasty wards up, so extreme caution should be taken as you approach this dungeon, if Spike still believes that's where you're headed."

"Yeah," I insisted. "And he says we're coming up on some caves, so we're probably close."

"Oh dear," he muttered in that Britishy way before asking, "Would you put Bethany on the phone? I have a few quick spells for her."

"Sure thing," I nodded, shining my flashlight around before finding the witch. I knew Bethany was pretty good, but she wasn't Willow, and that scared me. I knew why Wills had to leave, and I even made myself be one of the people pushing her out the door, but I missed her here. She was powerful and always so smart about everything. But Willow was gone and Buffy was gone and Giles didn't want the job and now I was in charge. Oh, man, we had to get them back! I couldn't let the guy who had almost failed high school geometry be the guy in charge!

While the Watcher scared the piss out of the humans, I stepped away from the group, leaned in the shadow of a tree and pulled out my phone. It rang three irritating times before Angel answered, "You alright, cor?"

I smiled at the pet name and the worry in his voice before answering, "Aye, luv. All my bits and bobs still in place. You?"

"I'm losing my mind, being stuck here," he admitted in a growl.

"If it makes you feel any better," I told him, "I'm goin' outta m' mind here as well. Don't quite know how to do this without you anymore."

A shaky breath hissing over the line, Angel asked, "Promise me something?"

"I'll get her back," I insisted, "like I said I would."

"No. Promise me you won't be stupid about this mission, that you won't be stupid about her." Taking another sharp breath, he whispered, "Promise me you won't be you."

"Alright, pet," I whispered back. "Despite the insult in there, Angel, I promise."

My boyfriend laughed sadly and said, "You know what I mean."

"I do," I replied. "And I knew you'd be heavily into brooding by now. So I called to tell you to knock it off."

He laughed louder this time, thought the sound was still sad and restrained. "What should I do instead?"

"Dunno," I replied. "Some of that Tai Chi crap? Clean the bloody bathroom, drink yourself straight into a stupor, or just picture me naked and wank off a dozen times, I don't care. I don't want to worry about you losin' it, yeah? Gotta keep my mind on the job at hand."

"Right," Angel replied. "Yeah, okay. I'll be fine, I promise." After a moment's pause, he said, "Try to stay in contact with us?"

"Do my best," I assured him before we exchanged our goodbyes and hung up.

He hadn't sounded as disgusted with me as I thought he might. In fact, he hadn't sounded disgusted or disappointed at all. Only worried. Maybe he wasn't letting himself think about the conversation either. Maybe it would take even more time to really sink in and I was going to go through all of this trouble getting Buffy back only to have him leave after I got home. But that thought was stupid, wasn't it? Bloody imbecilic, yeah. No one in their right mind would make their lover promise to be careful and smart only to kick said lover to the curb afterward. Would they?

No, it was a stupid thought, and I'd promised not to have any more of those until I saw him again. And I was generally pretty good at keeping promises, so I might as well keep this one, too.

It was a long time later – a day or two, I would guess, though I couldn't be sure in the darkness – when he came back. Everyone was starving and weak, despite one girl's frantic whispers that he'd never kept her so long without food. Every inch of my body hurt and I had to pee so badly that my whole midsection felt it every time I moved, but I wouldn't wet myself yet. Not while I could still help it.

I'd been trying, on and off, to pull my chains from the wall, but they were just too strong. Maybe if one of the other slayers had been able to reach, we could have done it together, but with just me, it was impossible. These chains had been built for slayers, not for normal human girls.

When the big guy returned to the dungeon, he creaked open the door again and that single light was a torch this time, blinding me as it bobbed forward. "Good evening, Slayer Buffy Summers," he murmured smoothly, voice sounding almost seductive in a way that made me physically ill. And then, I caught sight of him, a giant hump on his back, a walking stick in his other hand, and a face that made me shiver in disgust. He was somewhat more human than a lot of the demons I've seen, but still very clearly demonic. His nose was wide and long, almost like a hoagie roll, and it hung over thick disgusting lips that parted in a smile to reveal sharp, pointy teeth. On either side of that monstrosity of a nose, sat two big eyes, completely dark as far as I could tell in the dim light. There might also have been shaggy hair all around his face, but I couldn't be sure.

Hating everything about this monster, especially the way he had me tied up, I snarled, "What do you want this time, you overgrown weasel? Come to gloat some more?"

"Oh, beloved," he hissed, letting me know I was anything but loved and cherished by this creature, "you know me so well."

"I don't even know your name, asshole."

Chuckling, he replied, "I am known by many names: Honeytongue Firestaff," he drew very close to me, his breath hot and reeking of sulfur, like burning tires, "Baron of Hell, Night Roamer, Moon Gnawer, Curse of the Lord, Swallower of Heaven, Slayersbane," before this last one, he drew a raggedy, proud breath, "Carnivora."

"Hey, good for you," I shot back, trying not to breathe in more of his foul halitosis than I had to. "I've just got the one name. It's fine, though. My mom picked it out."

The demon laughed, a short, sharp, deep and dark noise that I fought not to shiver at. I wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction. Never in a million years.

"So, hey?" I asked, as casually as I could. "Can I call you Frank or something? All that other stuff is quite a mouthful."

"You may call me Carnivora," he replied before inhaling creepily through that big nose of his. "Ah! So sweet, my girl."

"Yeah. It's called regular bathing," I smirked. "You should try it some time."

Chuckling again, the demon backed off and said, "You're a funny one, aren't you? Oh, this is going to be exquisite."

"I have to warn you," I told him, keeping a lid on my fear like any good slayer would do. "I bite. I'm a biter."

"Even better," he whispered, approaching the girl to my right. Holding up the light, he cooed, "Slayer Suzanne Shipwright-Brown. I've had my eye on you for awhile now. Your mother says hello."

"What?" Suzie cried. "What the fuck did you do to my mom?"

"Oh, don't worry. She's a little old and a little too mundane for my tastes," Carnivora assured her. "Though her blood would look lovely sprayed across those rooster-print curtains in the kitchen, wouldn't it?"

"No," Suzie gasped softly, sagging in her chains. There must have been enough truth in what Carnivora said to get to her, because hardly anything fazes Suzie.

The monster moved on, towards the girl chained up across from me. "Slayer Deirdre La Mott. Parlez vouz anglais?"

"Yes," the girl replied, her voice low and her accent heavy on the 'y'. I didn't recognize her, and although she was older, maybe nineteen from what I could see, she must have only been called recently. Poor girl! She probably didn't even know why she'd been taken. "Vaht do you vahnt from me, you 'orrible creature?"

"Oh," Carnivora laughed happily, ignoring the ice in this Deirdre's voice, "what don't I want, lovely?" He shuffled close to her and used a stage whisper I'm sure he wanted me to hear. "You are all mine now, and it looks like I'll be feasting for years. So tell me, do you want to be one of the first, or one of the last?"

The girl stayed quiet, though I could see her wide eyes flashing in the light reflected from Carnivora's torch. He smirked, tossing me a victorious look. But then he turned back to Deirdre and in a low, cruel voice said, "Do you know, my dear, what a slayer-girl's flesh tastes like?"

"Non," she gasped. "Mon dieu, non!"

The demon smiled at her horror. "I've had millennia to come up with a substitute, you know. Something to tide over the cravings until I find another one of you," he brushed a clawed, grimy, finger up and down the underside of Deirdre's arm. She shivered and he said in another stage whisper. "The closest I've found is ripe nectarine, warmed and bathed in blood. Texture's not quite the same, but it's just as sweet, only with a sour kick that's deliciously addicting. You really should try it..." Deirdre pursed her lips and stuck her chin out at Carnivora bravely, but someone else in the darkness retched, and I had to admit I had a difficult time keeping my own stomach in check.

"Leave them alone," I growled, turning the demon's attention back to me.

"Or what?" he chuckled, shuffling back towards me. "No one's coming for you, Miss Summers. No one can come for you here. And by the time your witch friend finds this place, you'll be quite dead. All of these girls will get to listen to your screams and know that if you can be broken, anyone can be."

"Not gonna happen," I insisted. He wasn't giving my friends enough credit, and he certainly wasn't giving me enough credit. I wouldn't break down and scream for him, no matter what, because if these girls gave up hope, none of them were going to get out alive. "Never."

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