By the time Anya got to the library and found Buffy in the crowd of screeching, scared people, the front of the library had become a giant screen. As she pushed through babbling students and white-faced faculty, she heard claims that every screen in Sunnydale had been taken over by footage of the library basement. If that was true, then the projections on the library facade were no different than what was showing all over town - except that the picture was remarkably clear, and huge. Ten foot tall images of guards strode back and forth, with the outline of windows and brickwork vaguely behind them. All the prisoners were huddled in little balls, misery and fear evident in every curve of their nude forms.
"Buffy!" yelled Anya, trying to get the short blonde to hear her from several people away. Buffy didn't respond as she stared up, fixated on this view into the basement. Anya finally got to the Slayer and shook her arm. Buffy turned towards her, but seemed to be looking straight through Anya. While the ex-demon realized this was a difficult situation, she was a little insulted that anyone could look through HER - so she shook Buffy's shoulders harder and yelled in her face, "BUFFY!"
That did it, and Anya saw Buffy register the person in front of her. "Xander sent me, Buffy," Anya told her. "He wanted me to tell you what I told him, which is that Demon Lords go for the emotional jugular. Whatever is happening right now, this one has identified you as the enemy and is calculating how to psychologically weaken you. You have to be prepared, and much more pep talky nonsense that Xander said."
"They made her a guard," Buffy whispered. "The prisoner in my study room, the blonde? For no reason they brought her out and gave her a uniform and made her a guard… and now she's the most vicious one."
Anya looked closely at Buffy's face. "You're scaring me, Buffy," she said. "I know you're all depressed about being ripped out of heaven - I get that. But it's battle time. You know, fight fight fight, hopefully win?"
"You don't understand," Buffy said, eyes unseeing once more. "She was a victim… she should have compassion for the others, but instead she used her baton -" Buffy choked. "She used it to rape one of the male prisoners."
"Oh god," Anya said. "Intestines I get, you know that, but even when I was a demon I was NOT into sexual assault. Revenge for it, now, was the backbone of my business - I mean my career - you know what I mean."
Buffy didn't respond. She was back to staring at the giant soap opera of horror in front of them. Anya huffed. "Fine, ignore me, that's what you do all the time anyway." She was turning to go, when Buffy stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Anya, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not trying to ignore you. I don't mean to ignore you, ever. Please stay. I… I don't want to be here alone."
Anya softened a little. For the Slayer to admit weakness, to her of all people, was no small thing and she knew it. But… "Why do you have to stay here?" Anya asked, perfectly reasonably.
"Someone has to bear witness," Buffy's voice was soft. "Someone has to watch what they go through, so that if - when - the spell is broken they're not alone."
"Bear witness?" asked Anya. Of all the human things she'd heard, that had to be one of the most ridiculous. "Maybe they won't have their memories when they snap out of this, and then making yourself stand here and watch this will be completely useless."
Buffy was about to answer, when both women were distracted by a familiar figure onscreen. Glimpses of platinum hair and a lean frame in a long leather coat were flashing through the stacks, clear to the watching crowd but not yet apparent to the guards.
"Spike?" Anya was incredulous. "How did he get in there? He has both his hands intact. What is he doing?"
"I don't know how he got in," breathed Buffy. "But he seems like he's looking for something..."
"Oh." Anya nodded her head. "He's looking for the anchor to the spell. Best place to put it is in a space where everyone is under the illusion, of course it should be in there somewhere."
"Spike," whispered Buffy. Anya was pretty sure the Slayer didn't even realize she had just said the vampire's name, and rolled her eyes. Why everyone was so anti-Buffy and Spike was beyond her. Spike was quite attractive, and he was a great fighter devoted to Buffy. A fine mate, if you asked an ex-demon with a little bit of sense. Although... thinking of the word "mate" made Anya sigh. She thought getting Xander to announce their engagement would make her less, well, twitchy in their relationship, but it hadn't, really. If anything, Xander was even less into sex than before and even more uncommunicative. So maybe not so much on the sense front...
Anya realized her thoughts were taking an inconveniently personal track for a crisis moment, and brought herself back to the screen. Spike was still hidden from the guards, but the blonde guard that Buffy was so upset about was opening another prisoner's cell. So much for hoping for quiet while Spike snooped, thought Anya. She looked to her side and saw Buffy clenching her hands together, knuckles white and fingers stiff. It looked uncomfortable, and Anya realized she was very sympathetic to Buffy in this moment. The Demon Lord WAS psychologically manipulating Buffy, in no small part by keeping her passive and forcing her to see the injustice she could do nothing about. Anya remembered from her vengeance demon days how frustrating it was when she'd feel the pain from a woman whose husband was abusive, and yet find when she appeared that the wronged wife wouldn't make a vengeful wish. Trapped in a sick system of dependence and false love, unwilling to break out despite the daily beatings, these women would close down and send Anyanka packing. This wasn't the same thing, Anya admitted to herself, but she knew the feeling of not being able to use your powers as they were meant. Although she'd never done anything like this before, Anya reached down and pried Buffy's hands apart, taking one in her own. Buffy let her hand relax in Anya's for a moment, and shot her a grateful look - until they both turned back to the library images and Buffy's hand instantly turned into a vice grip on Anya's fingers.
Spike had thrown himself amongst the guards, tackling the blonde one in the midst of her torture session. He managed to throw her across the room and into the stacks, but Anya could see him reacting to the chip's protests. That slowed him down, and the other guards launched into kicking and beating the vampire with their batons. Spike threw his arms up to protect his face and began edging towards the warren of bookshelves. When he got to the edge, he violently shoved past his attackers. Pushing through the chip's response, Spike began to run away from the prisoner cells. He got a little ways in before the guards had reorganized to surround him. They came from all corners, trapping Spike in an aisle and beginning once again to beat him.
"The chip, oh that goddamn chip," Buffy swore. Anya looked at her in shock - she'd never heard the Slayer use what humans called 'the Lord's name in vain' before. Buffy dropped Anya's hand and started towards the library entrance. "I have to help him."
"Wait wait wait," Anya babbled, running after the idiot girl. "You can't DO anything if your hands are a mess. Don't be stupid! That's what the Demon Lord wants."
Buffy whirled around in frustration. "Then what am I supposed to do, Anya? I've been forced to stand here for the better part of the hour and watch atrocities happen to strangers - now I'm supposed to watch them happen to someone on my team? He can't defend himself!"
Anya had no answer for Buffy. She didn't want to watch Spike get beaten into a pulp either, but practicality was important. Buffy really couldn't do anything to get in, and she could do even less without hands. Buffy resumed her forward march, and Anya clenched her fists. She hated when Buffy and the Scoobies were this set on ignoring facts. Going after the Slayer again, Anya pushed a clump of people aside and suddenly saw Tara. Tara noticed her at the same moment, and Anya could see her grasp the situation with Buffy.
"Buffy! Anya! BUFFY!" Tara yelled. "Over here! I can get you in, I think!"
Those words finally made Buffy stop short, and run to Tara with Anya in her wake. They reached the witch, who immediately hollered at the people around her to make some room. As Anya had noticed most humans in a crisis situation usually did, the crowd responded to any voice with authority, and backed away from the three women. Tara sat down in the grass and held out her hands.
"I've been probing the spell for the last 20 minutes," Tara explained quickly. "I'm pretty sure I know how to break it, I just don't have enough power on my own. Sit with me in a triangle and hold hands." Anya only hesitated for a moment before doing as she was told. In her old life, lending her energy to another magic wielder was the last thing she would do, but this was this life.
"Do you willingly, with grace of heart and purity of intention, make a gift of your energy?" Tara asked formally.
Anya and Buffy nodded, and Anya immediately felt a gentle draw on the core of her lifeforce. She was impressed - it wasn't invasive or painful at all, and Tara's power signature reminded her of the scent of apple blossoms. Tara began chanting, eyes closed, and Anya felt the draw get a little stronger. Opening her inner channels as far as she could, she let Tara have whatever she needed.
With a surge of light shooting up from the walls of the library, Tara brought down the barrier. Buffy was up and running immediately, not even thinking of the students anymore. Her mind's eye could only see Spike's bruised and battered face after his torture at the hands of Glory, and all she knew was that she didn't want that again.
Buffy flung the doors open wide, dimly aware of Anya somewhere behind her. Running to the nearest staircase, Buffy felt like she could feel Spike, as though her vampire radar was kicking in to guide her to her ally. Without any thoughts of strategy or surprise, Buffy hurtled herself through the stacks towards where she thought Spike was. In the back of her head, she knew the Slayer-like responsible thing would be to go free the prisoners first - but somehow, she didn't care. Maybe that was her selfish non-soul making decisions, or maybe it was because pragmatically, with Spike she was stronger.
Of course, by the time she made it to the group of guards assaulting her vampire, there was no way he'd be of any use. Spike was lying on the ground, barely moving and with one of his arms at an unnatural angle that could only mean it was broken. At the sound of him whimpering, Buffy went into a rage.
"What. kind of. pathetic. evil. can't even. show. its. FACE?!" Buffy punctuated each word with a kick, sending guards crashing into shelves left and right and creating a domino effect in the stacks on one side. "Call yourself a Demon Lord?!" she howled, barely managing to make sure nothing she did was lethal - she knew these were enspelled humans but her blood was screaming with the need to hurt some enemy, any enemy. When she'd cleared all his assailants, she knelt down to Spike, still trembling with fury.
"How bad is it, Spike?" she tried to ask the question with gentleness, but could feel her frustration leaking over the words.
"Worst to me pride, pet," Spike said through rapidly swelling lips. "Feel like a twat... bunch of pimply faced students do this to me..."
"It's not your fault," Buffy laid her hand on his chest. Raising her voice again, she said, "It's that coward getting children to do the dirty work!"
"Children? They're your age, Buffy." Spike tried to chuckle, but ended up wincing.
"Ok, enough talking," Buffy commanded. "Plus, I was dead for a summer, that counts for like a whole decade at least."
"Gotta tell you... Red says the anchor is a book... don't know which." Spike's words were getting fainter and fainter. Buffy started to lean down to hear him better, but he shook his head. "Go, Buffy!"
Stubborn, proud vampire, Buffy thought to herself. He should know she wasn't leaving him, at least not before she had some idea of what particular book she was looking for, in a building devoted to the freaking things. Buffy racked her brain. Probably a book about the experiment, but which one? She'd used several in her essay. The best thing to do was probably to go to the psychology section, especially since a few of the guards were starting to stir. Buffy was surprised, since she'd knocked them out pretty hard, but when she caught a glimpse of one's eyes, she understood. The Demon Lord got to make the rules, and apparently zombie-type minions were in this game's strategy guide. So as carefully as she could, Buffy hoisted Spike into her arms. Holding the injured vampire close to her chest and trying not to knock his head or feet as she ran through the corners of the stacks, Buffy made for the thankfully still standing psychology section.
Ignoring the sounds of encroaching guards, Buffy propped Spike up and began scanning the shelves she'd pulled all her research texts from. Which one, which one... and then she saw it. Of course. Red spine, right in front of her, Zimbardo's own book: "The Lucifer Effect." Buffy set her hand on it, and felt a malevolent tingle run up her arm as she pulled it out from between the others.
"Lucifer..." the book whispered to her. "First an avenging angel, a bright tool of God... fallen from heaven, like you... now the ruler of Hell."
Buffy stared at the cover in shock. How did the Lord know that she was in heaven? And she didn't fall from heaven, she was torn out of it - or was she? Did Willow's spell work because she actually didn't belong in heaven, because it was a mistake that she was there in the first place...?
"BUFFY!" Anya interrupted her anguished questioning by appearing an aisle away. "Give it to me, I'll get it to Tara. She's weak but she thinks she can destroy it."
Buffy stared at Anya, at the book, feeling as though she was trapped in time, unable to move. Then Spike let out a groan and everything sped up again, as Buffy remembered the bloodied, vulnerable vampire at her feet. With Slayer accuracy, she tossed the book to Anya, who caught it gracefully and sprinted faster than Buffy had known she could to the staircase. A few guards chased her, but Buffy was pretty sure the ex-demon would make it out of the building.
The rest of the students with wooden batons began to cluster around her and Spike, eyes glazed with a sheen of anger and cruelty. Buffy dropped into a fighting crouch, more than ready to take on this group of regular humans. Compared to a circle of demons or vampires, they made for a fragile little piece of cake.
But just as they began to rush her, all of them collapsed. Unconscious, they fell every which way, and Buffy remembered herself just in time to catch one before he hit the back of his head on a sharp corner. She let him down to the floor gently, thinking as she did that being a prisoner in this horrible scenario would've actually been better. Not for the world would she want to wake up with the memories these people would have. Buffy felt her heart cramp as she thought especially of the blonde prisoner turned guard... was that sadism already in the girl's nature? Would Buffy herself have responded like that? Violence was her middle name, after all.
Thankfully distracting her, other sounds began to filter into Buffy's conscious - shouts and crying from other students who'd come into the building to find their friends, ambulance sirens, the false authority of Sunnydale police voices. Buffy so did not want to be there when the police got to this part of the basement. She crouched down to Spike, who was now barely conscious.
"Spike, it's done, but we need to get out of here. How did you get in? Can we leave that way?"
"Tunnels," he murmured. "Entrance through janitors closet in southeast corner."
"Got it. Going to your crypt." Buffy picked up the vampire again, trying not to joggle him. She heard him grit his teeth, and let out a slight moan. As fast as she could, Buffy slipped through the far end of the stacks, staying out of sight easily. No one was looking for someone trying to leave - everyone else wanted to get in, or was unconscious.
Once they were in the tunnels, Buffy slowed down. She walked with care, placing each foot firmly so as to not to hurt Spike more than necessary. At the first intersection, though, Buffy had to stop. She knew some parts of these tunnels just fine, but when she'd been in them most, with Angel, he'd always done the leading...
"Turn right," whispered Spike, exerting himself so he could look around.
Buffy did so, and then shifted her burden so his head was resting higher up, between her neck and collarbone. Having Spike nestled into her awoke an odd tenderness in Buffy, and she wanted to press a kiss to the top of his head. Shaking that urge off, she asked, "Can you see? You're going to have to navigate."
Spike made a noise of assent. They continued their slow process, with Spike muttering directions every once in a while and Buffy cradling him. Miraculously, they got to Spike's crypt without running into anything else, and Buffy sent up a small thanks that many demons were nocturnal - or at least, staying far away from a Demon Lord spell.
Buffy lay Spike down on his bed gingerly. She looked down at him, not sure quite what to do for a severely injured vampire. Blood, she supposed? A flashback hit her of when she'd gone to see Spike after Glory's torture, and thought that a chaste tease of a kiss was thanks enough. How could she have left him, then? Buffy shook her head. No use thinking about the past - everything was different, now. She and Spike were different.
"Buffy," Spike said, his voice a little stronger. "Sorry, but need you to do something unpleasant."
Buffy stared at him. "I want to help you, but I'm not going to give you my blood if that's what you mean."
Spike closed his eyes, and said, "I'd never ask that."
Buffy felt shame wash over her, and couldn't respond for a moment. But of course, he'd need blood, she knew that. And she knew he'd never ask for hers, why did she say stupid things all the time? "Um, sorry, I'll - uh - go get you some," she stammered out.
"No, need you to break my arm," Spike said. "Vampiric healing, started to set already, but 's wrong... gotta re-break and set right... please."
Buffy was about to open her mouth to tell Spike she didn't want to hurt him, when she thought better of it. She knew the practicality of what he was saying, and that awful please on the end made her insides hurt. Any protest would be empty, and she'd end up doing it anyway.
So instead Buffy nodded, and ran one of her hands down Spike's right arm. She found the break, grateful for the first time that Riley had taught her a bunch of this stuff "for fun," and set her hands on either side of it. She gave Spike a moment to brace himself, and then with two sharp swift movements got the bones re-aligned correctly. Spike let out a rock-crushing yell, and vamped out. Panting, he immediately tried to get his face under control, and Buffy knew it was for her. Without thinking about it, she put out her hand and stroked the bumps on Spike's forehead.
"It's ok, Spike," she murmured. "Don't force yourself. I don't care."
An incredulous, pain-filmed look, half gratitude and half distrust, smoothed the ridges out of Spike's skin and sent him back into his human face. The moment the skin was even under her fingers, Buffy jerked her hand back.
"Think I'm going to need to rest... now..." Spike was trying to hold Buffy's gaze, but the effort was too much for him and with that, his eyes rolled up into his head and he was out.
Buffy was startled by how quickly the vampire had gone from coherent to unconscious, but hoped it meant he would sleep a little. Even though she knew it wouldn't matter, Buffy pulled a blanket up to Spike's chest. She took a moment to study his face, willing it to give her some indication of what was really inside. He was such an incongruous force in her life, essentially telling her she probably didn't have a soul anymore and then the next week putting himself in harm's way to help a bunch of humans. The Spike she'd first met was gone, replaced by a new one who told terrible truths, but who would also face enemies he couldn't fight in order to stop an act of terrible violence against a stranger.
Buffy noticed that Spike's hair had lost its shape in the fighting and the carrying, and let herself brush the curls from his forehead. She wondered for the millionth time whether he truly did love her. Nothing else could really explain this transformation, his loyalty; but everything she'd ever been taught led her to believe that deep love was impossible for a creature without a soul. That vampires and demons experienced a shallower, weaker, selfish shadow of love. But Spike... Spike had protected her town, her sisters and her friends when she was dead, despite their coldness towards him. Spike had gone to get her mythical protection, despite the possibility that the price would permanently damage him. That sounded like depth of feeling to her - but according to Giles and the others, it was obsession. Buffy had to admit, that was possible. With the chip, Spike needed something to keep him going, so maybe he'd worked himself into believing he loved her?
A needling voice in Buffy's head pointed out that she didn't seem to feel anything resembling honest and open love either, these days. That if even Spike's love could only be shallow, Buffy might never experience wholeness of heart again. Not for Dawn, or Willow, or Giles, or anyone else. Spike might be the safest person for her to be around - two soulless things together, enacting the only emotions they were capable of. They were certainly on that path, Buffy thought, as sex. with. Spike. whispered itself into her brain. Sex, and some twisted form of affection and interdependence.
Buffy cut that voice off. Maybe she was soulless, but she had no idea how she felt about Spike, only that he was a good listener who was great at sex. She wasn't going to figure it out right now, so one thing at a time. Blood for the wounded vampire, and then she'd decide what was next.