Slip Of Mind, by Trisha H.
Chapter 3
Summary: Takes place directly after Dead Things. The Super Geeks gain control of Spike's chip and use him like a weapon, but since they are the Super GEEKS, things don't go quite the way they planned. B/S in nature. . It's a response to a challenge posted by Nos on Crumbling Walls ([1]http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum). The challenge details are written in the first chapter.
Rating: R to be safe. I don't really know.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never were, never will be, Joss owns the whole world, blah blah blah.
Spoilers: Through Older and Far Away, though probably not. I'm just saying so in case I accidentally mess up the timeline and drop something in I shouldn't.
Feedback: PLEASE! [2]Dragolyn@hotmail.com
******
Waving at Xander, Buffy watched him drive away with heavy eyes. He knew. He hadn't said anything to her, but she knew he'd figured out, finally, that she and Spike were lovers. Too worried and tired to care, she trudged up the steps to the front door and made her way inside. She flopped down on the living room couch, exhaustion ruling out the notion of climbing the stairs to her bedroom. After hours spent trading off between nursing and restraining Spike, she was finally home. Leaving the crypt had been difficult, but after she'd nodded off while standing, Tara had insisted. Pleasantly surprised by her friend's newly found assertiveness, she'd let Xander drive her home. He had needed to return to work, and Willow to school, but Tara had volunteered to stay with Spike. Dawn, too, would be with him; once she'd seen what the vampire was going through, she'd refused to leave his side.
Pulling a thick, wool throw blanket over herself, Buffy closed her eyes and snuggled into the cushions. As tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. Images from the past twenty-four hours flashed through her mind like a frenzied slide-show. Katrina, crumpled on the ground, dead. Dawn, half asleep, hugging her, yelling for her to leave while yearning for her to stay. Spike in the alley, his face bloody beneath her fists. Tara, being the truest friend Buffy could imagine, listening to her with compassion, mothering her. Spike, on his bed, holding her guilt-stricken face in his hands, comforting her. Spike, chained to the bedpost, bent on killing anyone he could get his hands on. The redness of the blood he vomited as it sprayed over Willow. His face, distorted far past mild vampy bumps, staring up at her and seeing a stranger, seeing no one, seeing... food.
With a low whimper, Buffy swung herself up and walked to the kitchen, the heavy weight of her emotions dragging at her feet. She opened the refrigerator and leaned her face against the cool metal of the door as she looked inside idly. She didn't want food, she thought, swinging the door shut. She wanted comfort. She wanted her mind to stop spinning and let her rest. Turning to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and splashed it onto her face, trying to clear her thoughts. The water dripped down her arms to her elbows, soaking the sleeves of her shirt. Sighing, she gripped the hem, and was about to pull it over her head when she heard a muffled giggle, followed by a sharp slapping noise. The sounds came from behind the door to the basement, which hung slightly ajar.
Deliberately casual, she lowered her shirt and wrung the water out of her sleeves into the sink. Walking around the island countertop, she grabbed a knife from the drawer. As she approached the door to the basement, she held the weapon behind her wrist, hidden from sight but easily wieldable. She took one step closer to the door, then another. The rustling behind the door grew louder.
Suddenly, the door flew open in her face. She leapt back and crouched low, ready for a fight, but straightened when she heard the familiar nasal voice of Jonathan.
"Don't hurt us! Don't hurt us!" he cried, standing in front of Andrew, his arms raised protectively. "We're not here to fight, and we're not armed. Please... just put the knife away."
She walked towards him, passing the knife from hand to hand. "I think I'll hang onto it, if it's all the same to you. What's wrong Jonathan? A big Super Villain like you, scared of a little knife?"
"I'm scared of you," he said quietly, forcing himself to stand still as she neared.
"Yeah? Is that right? Wonder why." She grabbed him by the collar and threw him back against the wall. "Maybe `cause you think that I don't like getting framed for murder? Well, aren't you just the smartest guy around. You're right. I don't like getting framed for murder. And do you know what I like even less? Murder."
"We didn't..." he choked as she squeezed his neck. "Okay, okay, we did help. Sorta. But we didn't kill her. We didn't want her dead."
"Yeah," Andrew said, cowering against the back door. "We just wanted to..."
"Shut up Andrew!" Jonathan said, eyeing Buffy's knife. He knew exactly what the Slayer would think of attempted rape. The bright kitchen lights glinted off the blade, reminding him of the flash of the Cerebral Dampener. "Warren killed her. Not us. We wanted to rule Sunnydale, not kill girls. That wasn't part of the plan. Warren... he's crazy. And when he knows we've come to you for help, he'll kill us too."
"And I care... why?" Buffy said, her eyes flashing with anger. "That girl *died*, Jonathan. She died. And everything else you guys have done... lots of other people could've died too. This isn't some high school prank. This isn't even making all of us think you're a hot movie star. This is *murder*. Give me one reason I should help you."
Jonathan stared at her, desperation paling his face. "Andrew," he said, still looking at Buffy. "Go ahead and show her."
"Umm... show her what?"
"The *thing*, asshole, you know, the controller!"
Andrew pulled the remote from his pocket. "This?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Those drugs make you such an Einstein. Yeah, that!"
Buffy took it from him and studied it, confused. "I should help you because you have a T.V. controller?"
"That remote doesn't control a television, Buffy. It controls your boyfriend's chip." Jonathan tugged himself free of her grasp and stepped away from her. "Or mostly, it does. Except for the part that Warren broke."
She let him go for a moment, slowly understanding what had happened. "Spike's freak-out, his seizures, the throwing up... all that was *you*?" She took a step towards the boys, who flinched back. "He could've killed me," she said, her hands bunched into menacing fists. "I almost had to kill him to protect myself. And you're telling me you did this? For what? Fun? Did you get a good laugh out of watching me nearly kill my lover?"
Andrew snorted. "Well, I *was* getting a laugh, till Stupid here turned off the video monitor."
Jonathan elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Don't listen to him, Buffy. Warren gave him these drugs... well, never mind. Look, I tried to help you. Warren made Spike go psycho. He wanted him to kill you, so you couldn't tell anyone that he'd killed Katrina. I swear I tried to help you! I tried to make him turn it off, but he couldn't. The controller was broken. Things were totally out of control. Andrew starting acting weird... I didn't know what to do. We went back to the crypt, to see what was happening. I didn't know Andrew was flying on those pills until I looked over at the screen and saw what he was doing to Spike. Then we came here. For help. Warren is crazy. Really, really crazy."
Taking a deep, calming breath, Buffy crossed her arms. "You didn't answer my question. Why should I help you?"
"Because Spike and Katrina are just the first part of Warren's plot. Things are gonna get really ugly, real quick here. Andrew and I are the only ones who know what he's planning. We're the only ones who can help you. And we will, we'll help you, if you help us. If you protect us from Warren, and... if you promise not to kill us."
Eyeing the two boys warily, Buffy reached out a foot and kicked a chair over to them. She perched on the edge of the countertop and motioned for them to sit. "Talk," she said, stroking the remote controller absently. "And talk quick. I have some place I need to be."
*************
The lower level of Spike's crypt had not been built to hold so many living bodies at one time. The air tasted stale and was acrid with candle smoke. Buffy coughed, adjusting to the lower level of oxygen. She shoved Andrew, his hands tied tightly behind his back, across the room towards Tara to be guarded. "He wont try anything," she told her friend, looking at Andrew derisively. "He's too high on Warren's happy pills. But if he does anything suspicious, yell."
Willow had to light another candle in order to study the mechanics of the remote controller. "This is pretty sophisticated, Buffy. Warren's way more advanced at this stuff than I am. I'm sorry... I don't think I can fix it."
Buffy strode to Willow's side, dragging Jonathan behind her. "Can you help her?" she asked him, one hand on the rope that loosely bound his arms. "Can you tell her how it works?"
"Uh... I don't think so. Warren didn't show us how he made it. We weren't really... I mean, I'm the spell guy, and Andrew can summon pretty much any kind of demon you'd want. Warren was the one who knew about stuff like this, not us."
From the bed behind them came a low moan. Spike lay on his side, struggled towards consciousness, his teeth grinding, his eyelids fluttering. He pulled against his restraints weakly. He was still too firmly gripped by the sedative to do any damage, but was sobering rapidly.
Dawn scooted off of her seat on the bed. She opened Willow's purse and took out another syringe full of the tranquilizer. Looking from the needle to Spike and back again, her hands began to shake. She turned to Buffy, embarrassed. "I can't do this, Buffy. He helped me. He saved my life. I should be able to help him, I know I should. But I just can't stick this needle in him. I just can't."
"It's okay, Dawnie," Buffy said, taking the syringe from her sister. She ran a hand over the girl's hair, smoothing the long strands till they fell softly down her back . "It's hard for all of us. You know he'd understand."
"Yeah," Dawn said, not at all convinced. She backed away from the bed. "Sure."
Buffy knelt beside Spike and injected him in one quick, stabbing motion. She rubbed her hand over the pinprick on his arm. "See? All better," she said, more to herself than to Spike. All better. Hah. Things were *so* far from being all better. She gripped his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "I'll fix you," she whispered, staring into his slack face. "I will. Somehow."
"Buffy," Willow said, sitting on the bed beside her, the remote controller in her hands. "I have a friend who might be able to take this thing apart, look at all its insides, and maybe tell us how to turn it off. Well, maybe. " She frowned, her words trailing off weakly. "He usually fixes computers. And sometimes, umm, sometimes cars. But hey, how much different could this be?"
"Thanks Will," Buffy said dubiously, staring down at Spike's hand in hers.
Tara stood over them, looking at Spike with compassionate eyes. "I wish that spell could've done more. All we learned from it was that his chip's buzzing his glands and filling him with hormones, and we didn't even need magic to know that. Jonathan told you as much. I want to help him... to help you... but there's nothing else I can do."
Giving Spike's hand a final squeeze, Buffy stood and walked over to Jonathan. "Maybe you can't help Spike, but that doesn't mean there's nothing for you to do. Something big's happening with Warren. Tara, Willow... you guys should hear what Jonathan has to say. We might have to wait on curing Spike, just for a little while." She looked at Dawn, who'd returned to sit with Spike. "Dawnie, could you go upstairs and get Spike some blood from the refrigerator?"
"He ate a few minutes ago," she said, glaring at Buffy. "You just want to get rid of me. You don't want me to hear what Jonathan says. But I need to hear. Maybe I can help."
Buffy sighed. "Fine. Stay. Jonathan, start talking."
"Why ask Jonathan? I was there too, you know," Andrew said peevishly from the corner. "It's not like he's in charge. He's not the boss of me. I know a bunch more about Warren's Cerebral Dampener than Jonathan does."
"Cerebral Dampener?" Willow asked, staring at Jonathan, ignoring Andrew. "Does that do what it sounds like it does?"
"Pretty much. It's like that thing they used in Men In Black. We flash someone with it, and all their memories go away. We give them new memories, or suggestions, or... well, or they just do whatever we say. Like slaves." Jonathan looked away, flushing. "Like Katrina. Warren flashed her, and he became her master."
"Not just him," Andrew said with enthusiasm. "Us too. She called us Master. Remember when she said I was hot? That was totally cool."
"Andrew, shut up," Jonathan said. He looked up at Buffy, shame in his eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's high. Believe me, when we realized what we were doing to her, we... it was wrong. Both of us got that. Warren didn't. He was freaked out at first, but that didn't last long. He reworked the Dampener, figured out how to make its effects last longer. The whole reason the three of us teamed up to begin with was to take over Sunnydale. That's why we've been messing with you. We couldn't rule if you were around."
"Keep talking," Buffy said, her jaw clenching with anger.
"Warren figured that a quick way to take over would be to flash everyone with the Dampener. Make a whole army of slaves, willing to do whatever he tells them too. He told us that we'd rule with him, but I don't believe him. As soon as he's flashed the Dampener at everyone, he'll turn it on us. He's out of control. You know what he was doing while we were spying on you guys this morning? He was at his parent's house, putting the whammy on them. His own parents! If he'd do that to them, he'd do it to anyone." Jonathan paused, shaking. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow. "You've gotta help us. Now that we've told you, don't you believe we're on your side?"
Buffy looked down at Spike, taking in the sight of the chafed skin on his wrists, where he'd struggled against the handcuffs. She looked at the bed sheets, covered with his blood. She saw the round, frightened bird-eyes of her sister, who was bathing Spike's forehead soothingly with cool water, and remembered that she'd been doing the same thing when Warren had turned her lover into a weapon and used him to try to kill her.
"Whatever side you're on Jonathan... I don't know. But it's not my side. On my side, we don't hurt innocent people. We don't torture them. We don't kill them." Buffy stepped towards him, fury contained deep inside of her, but visible through her eyes. "If you want to help my side right now, that's fine. But when this is done, you're both leaving Sunnydale. For good. If I ever see you here again..."
"Or us, either," Dawn said, glaring at the boys. She looked over at Tara and Willow, who nodded their support. "We wont let you get away with this. No matter how nice you are right now, you're still the bad guys."
Andrew giggled, rocking back and forth on his knees. "Hear that, Jonathan? We're the bad guys. How cool is that?"
Jonathan slumped down into a chair and closed his eyes. "Cool, Andrew," he said sardonically, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. "Very cool."
"We have to make a plan, and get to Warren before he can hurt anyone else. Will he be able to track you guys to us?" Buffy asked, touching Dawn's shoulder lightly for comfort.
"I dunno. We left the van in your garage, he can't see it there. But Warren's tricky. He could have a tracking device on it, or on some of the equipment inside it." Jonathan looked down at his shoes. "Or on us, even."
"Okay, so, you guys strip and change into some of Spike's clothes." Buffy glared at Jonathan as he opened his mouth to object. "Yes, Spike's clothes! I don't care how stupid you look, I just don't want to see you naked. Willow, can you go back to the house and get rid of their van? Take whatever you think we could use to help Spike out of it, then drive it someplace that wont lead Warren to us."
"Sure," she said, packing up her things. "But what about Spike? We can't leave him here alone. All those demons are after him. And Warren could come for him."
Buffy turned to Tara, who sat beside Dawn on the bed. "Can you two keep things under control here?"
"S-sure, of course," Tara said, nodding. "But what if Warren comes while we're here? I could stop him, maybe, from taking Spike under normal circumstances. But with that Dampener... I don't want to be anyone's slave." She shuddered, thinking of Glory. "Not ever again."
"If he comes, take Dawn and hide. Don't let him see you. I don't want him taking Spike, but that's better than taking all three of you. Okay?"
"Okay. But what are you going to do?"
Buffy opened a large, wooden chest and began pulling out weapons. "I'm going after Warren," she said, sticking a knife under her belt. She walked over to Spike and brushed her fingers across his forehead tenderly. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, not caring who saw or what they thought. "I'll bring him to you," she whispered into his ear. "He'll pay for this. And he'll bring you back to me."
Straightening, she moved to the ladder and began to climb, pushing Jonathan up ahead of her. Pausing on the top rung, she looked down at her friends. "Take care of him," she said, her soft voice clashing with the determined glint in her eyes as she waved a hard towards Spike. "Please."
Dawn threw her sister a salute. "Yes, Captain," she said with a brave smile. "Whatever you say."
References
1. http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum
2. mailto:Dragolyn@hotmail.com
Chapter 3
Summary: Takes place directly after Dead Things. The Super Geeks gain control of Spike's chip and use him like a weapon, but since they are the Super GEEKS, things don't go quite the way they planned. B/S in nature. . It's a response to a challenge posted by Nos on Crumbling Walls ([1]http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum). The challenge details are written in the first chapter.
Rating: R to be safe. I don't really know.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never were, never will be, Joss owns the whole world, blah blah blah.
Spoilers: Through Older and Far Away, though probably not. I'm just saying so in case I accidentally mess up the timeline and drop something in I shouldn't.
Feedback: PLEASE! [2]Dragolyn@hotmail.com
******
Waving at Xander, Buffy watched him drive away with heavy eyes. He knew. He hadn't said anything to her, but she knew he'd figured out, finally, that she and Spike were lovers. Too worried and tired to care, she trudged up the steps to the front door and made her way inside. She flopped down on the living room couch, exhaustion ruling out the notion of climbing the stairs to her bedroom. After hours spent trading off between nursing and restraining Spike, she was finally home. Leaving the crypt had been difficult, but after she'd nodded off while standing, Tara had insisted. Pleasantly surprised by her friend's newly found assertiveness, she'd let Xander drive her home. He had needed to return to work, and Willow to school, but Tara had volunteered to stay with Spike. Dawn, too, would be with him; once she'd seen what the vampire was going through, she'd refused to leave his side.
Pulling a thick, wool throw blanket over herself, Buffy closed her eyes and snuggled into the cushions. As tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. Images from the past twenty-four hours flashed through her mind like a frenzied slide-show. Katrina, crumpled on the ground, dead. Dawn, half asleep, hugging her, yelling for her to leave while yearning for her to stay. Spike in the alley, his face bloody beneath her fists. Tara, being the truest friend Buffy could imagine, listening to her with compassion, mothering her. Spike, on his bed, holding her guilt-stricken face in his hands, comforting her. Spike, chained to the bedpost, bent on killing anyone he could get his hands on. The redness of the blood he vomited as it sprayed over Willow. His face, distorted far past mild vampy bumps, staring up at her and seeing a stranger, seeing no one, seeing... food.
With a low whimper, Buffy swung herself up and walked to the kitchen, the heavy weight of her emotions dragging at her feet. She opened the refrigerator and leaned her face against the cool metal of the door as she looked inside idly. She didn't want food, she thought, swinging the door shut. She wanted comfort. She wanted her mind to stop spinning and let her rest. Turning to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and splashed it onto her face, trying to clear her thoughts. The water dripped down her arms to her elbows, soaking the sleeves of her shirt. Sighing, she gripped the hem, and was about to pull it over her head when she heard a muffled giggle, followed by a sharp slapping noise. The sounds came from behind the door to the basement, which hung slightly ajar.
Deliberately casual, she lowered her shirt and wrung the water out of her sleeves into the sink. Walking around the island countertop, she grabbed a knife from the drawer. As she approached the door to the basement, she held the weapon behind her wrist, hidden from sight but easily wieldable. She took one step closer to the door, then another. The rustling behind the door grew louder.
Suddenly, the door flew open in her face. She leapt back and crouched low, ready for a fight, but straightened when she heard the familiar nasal voice of Jonathan.
"Don't hurt us! Don't hurt us!" he cried, standing in front of Andrew, his arms raised protectively. "We're not here to fight, and we're not armed. Please... just put the knife away."
She walked towards him, passing the knife from hand to hand. "I think I'll hang onto it, if it's all the same to you. What's wrong Jonathan? A big Super Villain like you, scared of a little knife?"
"I'm scared of you," he said quietly, forcing himself to stand still as she neared.
"Yeah? Is that right? Wonder why." She grabbed him by the collar and threw him back against the wall. "Maybe `cause you think that I don't like getting framed for murder? Well, aren't you just the smartest guy around. You're right. I don't like getting framed for murder. And do you know what I like even less? Murder."
"We didn't..." he choked as she squeezed his neck. "Okay, okay, we did help. Sorta. But we didn't kill her. We didn't want her dead."
"Yeah," Andrew said, cowering against the back door. "We just wanted to..."
"Shut up Andrew!" Jonathan said, eyeing Buffy's knife. He knew exactly what the Slayer would think of attempted rape. The bright kitchen lights glinted off the blade, reminding him of the flash of the Cerebral Dampener. "Warren killed her. Not us. We wanted to rule Sunnydale, not kill girls. That wasn't part of the plan. Warren... he's crazy. And when he knows we've come to you for help, he'll kill us too."
"And I care... why?" Buffy said, her eyes flashing with anger. "That girl *died*, Jonathan. She died. And everything else you guys have done... lots of other people could've died too. This isn't some high school prank. This isn't even making all of us think you're a hot movie star. This is *murder*. Give me one reason I should help you."
Jonathan stared at her, desperation paling his face. "Andrew," he said, still looking at Buffy. "Go ahead and show her."
"Umm... show her what?"
"The *thing*, asshole, you know, the controller!"
Andrew pulled the remote from his pocket. "This?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Those drugs make you such an Einstein. Yeah, that!"
Buffy took it from him and studied it, confused. "I should help you because you have a T.V. controller?"
"That remote doesn't control a television, Buffy. It controls your boyfriend's chip." Jonathan tugged himself free of her grasp and stepped away from her. "Or mostly, it does. Except for the part that Warren broke."
She let him go for a moment, slowly understanding what had happened. "Spike's freak-out, his seizures, the throwing up... all that was *you*?" She took a step towards the boys, who flinched back. "He could've killed me," she said, her hands bunched into menacing fists. "I almost had to kill him to protect myself. And you're telling me you did this? For what? Fun? Did you get a good laugh out of watching me nearly kill my lover?"
Andrew snorted. "Well, I *was* getting a laugh, till Stupid here turned off the video monitor."
Jonathan elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Don't listen to him, Buffy. Warren gave him these drugs... well, never mind. Look, I tried to help you. Warren made Spike go psycho. He wanted him to kill you, so you couldn't tell anyone that he'd killed Katrina. I swear I tried to help you! I tried to make him turn it off, but he couldn't. The controller was broken. Things were totally out of control. Andrew starting acting weird... I didn't know what to do. We went back to the crypt, to see what was happening. I didn't know Andrew was flying on those pills until I looked over at the screen and saw what he was doing to Spike. Then we came here. For help. Warren is crazy. Really, really crazy."
Taking a deep, calming breath, Buffy crossed her arms. "You didn't answer my question. Why should I help you?"
"Because Spike and Katrina are just the first part of Warren's plot. Things are gonna get really ugly, real quick here. Andrew and I are the only ones who know what he's planning. We're the only ones who can help you. And we will, we'll help you, if you help us. If you protect us from Warren, and... if you promise not to kill us."
Eyeing the two boys warily, Buffy reached out a foot and kicked a chair over to them. She perched on the edge of the countertop and motioned for them to sit. "Talk," she said, stroking the remote controller absently. "And talk quick. I have some place I need to be."
*************
The lower level of Spike's crypt had not been built to hold so many living bodies at one time. The air tasted stale and was acrid with candle smoke. Buffy coughed, adjusting to the lower level of oxygen. She shoved Andrew, his hands tied tightly behind his back, across the room towards Tara to be guarded. "He wont try anything," she told her friend, looking at Andrew derisively. "He's too high on Warren's happy pills. But if he does anything suspicious, yell."
Willow had to light another candle in order to study the mechanics of the remote controller. "This is pretty sophisticated, Buffy. Warren's way more advanced at this stuff than I am. I'm sorry... I don't think I can fix it."
Buffy strode to Willow's side, dragging Jonathan behind her. "Can you help her?" she asked him, one hand on the rope that loosely bound his arms. "Can you tell her how it works?"
"Uh... I don't think so. Warren didn't show us how he made it. We weren't really... I mean, I'm the spell guy, and Andrew can summon pretty much any kind of demon you'd want. Warren was the one who knew about stuff like this, not us."
From the bed behind them came a low moan. Spike lay on his side, struggled towards consciousness, his teeth grinding, his eyelids fluttering. He pulled against his restraints weakly. He was still too firmly gripped by the sedative to do any damage, but was sobering rapidly.
Dawn scooted off of her seat on the bed. She opened Willow's purse and took out another syringe full of the tranquilizer. Looking from the needle to Spike and back again, her hands began to shake. She turned to Buffy, embarrassed. "I can't do this, Buffy. He helped me. He saved my life. I should be able to help him, I know I should. But I just can't stick this needle in him. I just can't."
"It's okay, Dawnie," Buffy said, taking the syringe from her sister. She ran a hand over the girl's hair, smoothing the long strands till they fell softly down her back . "It's hard for all of us. You know he'd understand."
"Yeah," Dawn said, not at all convinced. She backed away from the bed. "Sure."
Buffy knelt beside Spike and injected him in one quick, stabbing motion. She rubbed her hand over the pinprick on his arm. "See? All better," she said, more to herself than to Spike. All better. Hah. Things were *so* far from being all better. She gripped his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "I'll fix you," she whispered, staring into his slack face. "I will. Somehow."
"Buffy," Willow said, sitting on the bed beside her, the remote controller in her hands. "I have a friend who might be able to take this thing apart, look at all its insides, and maybe tell us how to turn it off. Well, maybe. " She frowned, her words trailing off weakly. "He usually fixes computers. And sometimes, umm, sometimes cars. But hey, how much different could this be?"
"Thanks Will," Buffy said dubiously, staring down at Spike's hand in hers.
Tara stood over them, looking at Spike with compassionate eyes. "I wish that spell could've done more. All we learned from it was that his chip's buzzing his glands and filling him with hormones, and we didn't even need magic to know that. Jonathan told you as much. I want to help him... to help you... but there's nothing else I can do."
Giving Spike's hand a final squeeze, Buffy stood and walked over to Jonathan. "Maybe you can't help Spike, but that doesn't mean there's nothing for you to do. Something big's happening with Warren. Tara, Willow... you guys should hear what Jonathan has to say. We might have to wait on curing Spike, just for a little while." She looked at Dawn, who'd returned to sit with Spike. "Dawnie, could you go upstairs and get Spike some blood from the refrigerator?"
"He ate a few minutes ago," she said, glaring at Buffy. "You just want to get rid of me. You don't want me to hear what Jonathan says. But I need to hear. Maybe I can help."
Buffy sighed. "Fine. Stay. Jonathan, start talking."
"Why ask Jonathan? I was there too, you know," Andrew said peevishly from the corner. "It's not like he's in charge. He's not the boss of me. I know a bunch more about Warren's Cerebral Dampener than Jonathan does."
"Cerebral Dampener?" Willow asked, staring at Jonathan, ignoring Andrew. "Does that do what it sounds like it does?"
"Pretty much. It's like that thing they used in Men In Black. We flash someone with it, and all their memories go away. We give them new memories, or suggestions, or... well, or they just do whatever we say. Like slaves." Jonathan looked away, flushing. "Like Katrina. Warren flashed her, and he became her master."
"Not just him," Andrew said with enthusiasm. "Us too. She called us Master. Remember when she said I was hot? That was totally cool."
"Andrew, shut up," Jonathan said. He looked up at Buffy, shame in his eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's high. Believe me, when we realized what we were doing to her, we... it was wrong. Both of us got that. Warren didn't. He was freaked out at first, but that didn't last long. He reworked the Dampener, figured out how to make its effects last longer. The whole reason the three of us teamed up to begin with was to take over Sunnydale. That's why we've been messing with you. We couldn't rule if you were around."
"Keep talking," Buffy said, her jaw clenching with anger.
"Warren figured that a quick way to take over would be to flash everyone with the Dampener. Make a whole army of slaves, willing to do whatever he tells them too. He told us that we'd rule with him, but I don't believe him. As soon as he's flashed the Dampener at everyone, he'll turn it on us. He's out of control. You know what he was doing while we were spying on you guys this morning? He was at his parent's house, putting the whammy on them. His own parents! If he'd do that to them, he'd do it to anyone." Jonathan paused, shaking. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow. "You've gotta help us. Now that we've told you, don't you believe we're on your side?"
Buffy looked down at Spike, taking in the sight of the chafed skin on his wrists, where he'd struggled against the handcuffs. She looked at the bed sheets, covered with his blood. She saw the round, frightened bird-eyes of her sister, who was bathing Spike's forehead soothingly with cool water, and remembered that she'd been doing the same thing when Warren had turned her lover into a weapon and used him to try to kill her.
"Whatever side you're on Jonathan... I don't know. But it's not my side. On my side, we don't hurt innocent people. We don't torture them. We don't kill them." Buffy stepped towards him, fury contained deep inside of her, but visible through her eyes. "If you want to help my side right now, that's fine. But when this is done, you're both leaving Sunnydale. For good. If I ever see you here again..."
"Or us, either," Dawn said, glaring at the boys. She looked over at Tara and Willow, who nodded their support. "We wont let you get away with this. No matter how nice you are right now, you're still the bad guys."
Andrew giggled, rocking back and forth on his knees. "Hear that, Jonathan? We're the bad guys. How cool is that?"
Jonathan slumped down into a chair and closed his eyes. "Cool, Andrew," he said sardonically, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. "Very cool."
"We have to make a plan, and get to Warren before he can hurt anyone else. Will he be able to track you guys to us?" Buffy asked, touching Dawn's shoulder lightly for comfort.
"I dunno. We left the van in your garage, he can't see it there. But Warren's tricky. He could have a tracking device on it, or on some of the equipment inside it." Jonathan looked down at his shoes. "Or on us, even."
"Okay, so, you guys strip and change into some of Spike's clothes." Buffy glared at Jonathan as he opened his mouth to object. "Yes, Spike's clothes! I don't care how stupid you look, I just don't want to see you naked. Willow, can you go back to the house and get rid of their van? Take whatever you think we could use to help Spike out of it, then drive it someplace that wont lead Warren to us."
"Sure," she said, packing up her things. "But what about Spike? We can't leave him here alone. All those demons are after him. And Warren could come for him."
Buffy turned to Tara, who sat beside Dawn on the bed. "Can you two keep things under control here?"
"S-sure, of course," Tara said, nodding. "But what if Warren comes while we're here? I could stop him, maybe, from taking Spike under normal circumstances. But with that Dampener... I don't want to be anyone's slave." She shuddered, thinking of Glory. "Not ever again."
"If he comes, take Dawn and hide. Don't let him see you. I don't want him taking Spike, but that's better than taking all three of you. Okay?"
"Okay. But what are you going to do?"
Buffy opened a large, wooden chest and began pulling out weapons. "I'm going after Warren," she said, sticking a knife under her belt. She walked over to Spike and brushed her fingers across his forehead tenderly. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, not caring who saw or what they thought. "I'll bring him to you," she whispered into his ear. "He'll pay for this. And he'll bring you back to me."
Straightening, she moved to the ladder and began to climb, pushing Jonathan up ahead of her. Pausing on the top rung, she looked down at her friends. "Take care of him," she said, her soft voice clashing with the determined glint in her eyes as she waved a hard towards Spike. "Please."
Dawn threw her sister a salute. "Yes, Captain," she said with a brave smile. "Whatever you say."
References
1. http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum
2. mailto:Dragolyn@hotmail.com