CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Searching
When Buffy got home, she found Willow, Tara, and Dawn watching television. "Is Spike back?" she asked a little breathless.
"No," Dawn answered.
"I thought maybe he'd show up at that meeting with the Shadows, but he didn't. I've got that little furry demon we're working with checking for him at Willy's. And I checked his crypt and his motor cycle. No sign of him."
"He'll probably turn up," Tara said, turning off the television. "He hasn't been gone that long yet."
"When I wanted to get rid of the guy I couldn't get him to stay away from me. Now, I'm gonna kill him. Whatever his excuse is, it had better be good." Buffy took off her jacket and threw it over a chair. "Willow, Tara, I have a magic question for you guys. I need a weapon against the fire jets. Now, if they're being caused by magic, is there some way that I might be able to counteract the spell?"
"That's hard to do if you don't know how the spell was caused," Tara said.
"Unless . . ." Willow said. She hiked her legs under her. "Actually, I've been thinking about this. Well, about that big gun we captured really, the one that hurt Tara. It must have used the diamond's ability to transfer power. It tried to take Tara's life force and transfer it into whoever was holding the gun. But that's only one aspect of the diamond's ability to transfer power. According to the Watcher's website, the diamond can also transfer power by absorbing it and then shooting it back to its source, thus canceling the power out. But of course, that would only work if the power originated from a human."
"Wait a minute," Buffy said. "The diamond can take someone's powers and cancel them out?"
"Yeah, by a slightly different kind of transference. In that case, the diamond transfers the power temporarily to itself and then does a boomerang effect to cancel it out. Then the diamond can protect its owner from supernatural attack by humans if necessary. Because you see, sometimes, it's not entirely healthy to absorb someone else's powers because you might not be able to adapt to it."
"But the Fire demons are demons," Buffy pointed out.
"Right. But they're probably not the ones who are doing this magic, because Anya and Spike said these subterranean types don't do much of that. So, it's possible that human witchcraft is behind them. Then you could use the diamond to transfer the magic into the diamond and turn it back to its source and cancel it out. Course you could only do it one demon at a time."
"And, if this magic is being caused by a demon or a god like Glory?"
"Then it won't work. But it's worth a try. At least you'll know who isn't causing the magic."
"And how do I get the diamond to do this?"
"Well, you could hold it in your hand and do various spells and such to make it work. But you don't have any experience with magic so it would be hard. I could try and rework the gun. I could probably tinker with it and find a way. I've got like no classes tomorrow. I could tinker with it."
"I don't have any classes either," Tara said. "So I could help her."
"All right," Buffy agreed. "I'll go get it for you."
Willow seemed very pleased to be performing such an important role. She accepted the gun with a big smile on her face. "This is gonna be fun, she said as she hefted it in her hands to test its weight."
A little while later, Willow and Tara went to bed, with Dawn not far behind.
"Don't worry," Dawn said to her sister. "He'll be home. He's probably just playing poker with the boys or something like that and lost track of time."
"If that's where he is, I'll stake him," Buffy said. But her words didn't have quite as much force anymore. This just wasn't like him. She sat up for a while and watched TV, hoping that he might come in. Then, she stood at the front door and looked out the small lower window for a while, hoping to see his tall form separate from the shadows.
Finally, she went to bed. Only this time she didn't have the same enjoyment in turning in by herself. She kept listening for the front door or his footsteps in the hall. She couldn't find a comfortable position, but kept sliding further and further into his side of the bed as if seeking him there. She yearned to touch him, to pull up close to his body and feel his arms around her.
When Buffy heard Dawn padding around in the morning, she was still wide awake. She went downstairs, moving mostly on auto-pilot. The only breakfast she could think of making was instant oatmeal and orange juice.
"Hey," Dawn said, coming into the kitchen.
"Hey," Buffy returned.
"Did Spike come in last night?"
"No."
"OK," Dawn said, "now I'm getting scared. He's never stayed out all night before. At least, not since he's been staying here."
"It's not like him," Buffy agreed. "I'm going to check his crypt again this morning. And I'll check Willy's myself tonight to see if there's any sign of him there."
- - - - - - - - - -
Jonathan had nodded off to sleep sometime during the wee hours of the morning. But Warren was still pacing and keeping watch over Spike. Sometimes he'd turn off the remote control and question him. But for the most part he'd just sit and watch him squirm in agony.
About the time Dawn was leaving for school, Warren turned off the remote for another question and answer session. It had been a long time since the last one and Spike's body didn't even react to the turning off of the mechanism right away.
"All right, Spike," Warren said, "are you ready to talk yet?"
Spike's eyes crossed and uncrossed as he tried to make sense of the question. "Who's Spike?" he asked uncertainly.
"Don't fool around! I wanna know where the diamond is. Does Buffy have it?"
Again Spike tried to think. Was Buffy a name? "Who's Buffy?"
Warren smashed Spike in the face with his fist. "Don't act cute with me."
Jonathan stirred on his chair and eyed the door at the other end of the room. Warren wasn't holding his new gun at that point. So, Jonathan wondered if he could get up and sneak out while Warren was beating up on Spike. Slowly he slipped out of his chair and tiptoed toward the door.
But Warren's senses were all heightened by adrenaline. He heard Jonathan's footsteps as if they were made by the feet of an elephant. He grabbed his Molecular Disturber and whipped around. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.
"Uh, no where," Jonathan lied. He looked around the room, searching for an excuse. "I'm, uh, I'm just going to the bathroom." He pointed to the little half bath near the stairs. "Is that all right?"
"Oh. Sure. Just no funny stuff, OK? I'm workin' here."
"OK. You just go on with what you're doing." Jonathan locked himself in the bathroom, wishing he could stay there. But he knew he couldn't. Warren's Molecular Disturber could probably take down the door. Outside he could hear Warren questioning Spike. But it didn't seem to be getting anywhere and Warren was getting angrier. "Did you leave that remote thing on all night?" Jonathan asked, coming back out into the basement proper.
"Mostly," Warren said. "I needed to teach him a lesson.
"Maybe that's why he can't answer. Maybe you've fried his brain already."
Warren looked at the little black box in his hand questioningly. "No. It's too soon for that. Andrew agrees with me. At some point the battery in the chip will burn out. It's meant to run a long time, but not constantly like this. By the time that happens, probably within sometime tomorrow morning, I think his brain will be burned beyond repair." Warren laughed at the thought. "Course the chip won't work at that point, but it won't matter, cos neither will his brain. We'll replace it with something else. Make him our servant zombie."
"Yeah, but, he already doesn't know who Buffy is, Dude. Doesn't that sound strange to you? Look, I've been wondering. Maybe we should quit torturing him and instead use him as a hostage. You know, tell Buffy that we've got him and then threaten to kill him if she doesn't get us back the diamond and stay out of our way. Spike's really more valuable to us alive than dead."
"What does Buffy care about him?"
"Because, Dude . . ." Jonathan lowered his voice to a whisper. Not that Spike was listening anyway. He was way off in another world somewhere. "Something happened yesterday day that made me think that maybe Spike and Buffy are more than just working buddies. I think she's his girlfriend."
"What?" Warren made a face. "Don't be stupid. Why would he have wanted the bot then?"
"Stuff changes. Maybe something happened since then that made `em closer. I don't know. But I'm telling you, it's true."
Warren looked at Jonathan in disbelief. It was a ridiculous idea. But the simplest way to test it seemed to be to ask Spike. "Spike," he said, "Is Buffy your girlfriend?"
"Buffy?" Spike said the word slowly, tripping over the two f's. Who's Buffy?"
"Your girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend . . ." Spike's voice trailed off as he sought the answer. He felt very far away, from Warren's basement, from the chip in his head, from all the pain. It was as if this conversation were going on outside of reality, on another plane of existence. "Girl . . . you mean Cecily?" But she wasn't his girlfriend. He wished she was. She was like a goddess floating among beings of clay.
"Who the hell is Cecily?" Warren asked.
But Spike didn't answer. He'd stopped hearing them again.
"I think he's lost it," Jonathan said. "Buffy's probably the one who's got the diamond. I say we try and make a trade with her."
"No. I don't trust Buffy. She doesn't play fair."
"Well, this isn't gonna get us anywhere. Look at his eyes. They're all glassy and starring off into space, like he's not here. I don't think you're gonna get anything out of him."
"At least, I'm gonna get my revenge."
"Really, I think . . ."
Warren picked up his Molecular Disturber again and pointed it at Jonathan. "Andrew and I don't care what you think. Go sit down in your chair and keep quiet. You're outvoted."
Jonathan held up both his hands in surrender. "OK, sure, Dude. Just trying to help."
"We don't need your help!"
Warren continued trying to question Spike. But he got absolutely no where. So Warren turned on the remote control once again. This time it was at a higher level and Spike started to cry out.
From his chair across the room, Jonathan squirmed. Somehow he had to get out and get help. Warren was so gone now there was no hope of reaching him. And he was pretty sure that after Warren finished with Spike, it was gonna be his turn for torture.
- - - - - - - - - -
Buffy found Spike's crypt to be just as empty and desolate as it had been the night before. Since he'd been staying at her house, he evidently hadn't been back there much. The refrigerator was completely empty of blood and it was even unplugged, as if Spike hadn't planned on using it anymore. The bed downstairs, though, was made and still had sheets on it, as if he thought they might be using that on occasion. Not an impossibility, since they came often to the cemetery on patrol.
Buffy climbed into the middle of the cold bed and snuggled against one of the pillows. Where was he? Why couldn't she find any trace of him?
In the early evening, she made her way to Willy's. And though there still weren't many customers yet, Speaker was there. Not playing poker, but talking to various demons. He came up to Buffy as soon as he saw her.
"Slayer," he said, "I've been asking around, but I haven't been able to find out anything about Mr. Spike. He hasn't been here and no one has seen him."
"Thank you," Buffy said.
"It's a pleasure. Maybe I can't be a hero like you and Mr. Spike. But helping you makes me feel like I almost could be one. I promise to keep an ear out. I'll go over to the Bronze later to see the Galera demons. I know Mr. Spike sometimes works shifts for them. They come in here, but not that much. Like the Shadows, they tend to keep to themselves. So do the Nazari, but I've always been such a talker, I find it easier to mix than most of my people."
"Yes." Buffy had to agree. He certainly was a talker. His name fit him quite well. "Thank you for all your help."
"Any time, Slayer," he said earnestly. If he'd had a tail, Buffy had a feeling he would have wagged it.
Speaker went back to talking to the other patrons. And Buffy made her way to the door. Just as she reached for the handle, Tiger, the loan shark stepped in front of her. This was not someone Buffy wanted to see. The last thing she wanted to hear was how big Spike's kitten debt was. "What do you want?" she asked impatiently, her arms crossed.
"Not a thing, Slayer" Tiger answered. "I just heard from the little Nazari that Mr. Spike has been, shall we say misplaced."
"Did you have something to do with it?" Buffy asked sharply.
"No. Not me. I just wanted to say is how I'll keep my eyes out for him and have my boys keep a look out too. I admire a man that pays off his debts like Mr. Spike has. Wish more of my customers would do that. Would make my life a whole lot easier. If I hear anything, I'll tell the Nazari."
"Well . . . good. Thank you," Buffy said, amazed that she was thanking this shark guy who only months before had tried to rough up Spike and the rest of her friends. But lately, she'd been making a lot of strange allies. "I've gotta go now."
"Of course," Tiger said, stepping out of the way. "A slayer's work is never done. Just like mine."
Searching
When Buffy got home, she found Willow, Tara, and Dawn watching television. "Is Spike back?" she asked a little breathless.
"No," Dawn answered.
"I thought maybe he'd show up at that meeting with the Shadows, but he didn't. I've got that little furry demon we're working with checking for him at Willy's. And I checked his crypt and his motor cycle. No sign of him."
"He'll probably turn up," Tara said, turning off the television. "He hasn't been gone that long yet."
"When I wanted to get rid of the guy I couldn't get him to stay away from me. Now, I'm gonna kill him. Whatever his excuse is, it had better be good." Buffy took off her jacket and threw it over a chair. "Willow, Tara, I have a magic question for you guys. I need a weapon against the fire jets. Now, if they're being caused by magic, is there some way that I might be able to counteract the spell?"
"That's hard to do if you don't know how the spell was caused," Tara said.
"Unless . . ." Willow said. She hiked her legs under her. "Actually, I've been thinking about this. Well, about that big gun we captured really, the one that hurt Tara. It must have used the diamond's ability to transfer power. It tried to take Tara's life force and transfer it into whoever was holding the gun. But that's only one aspect of the diamond's ability to transfer power. According to the Watcher's website, the diamond can also transfer power by absorbing it and then shooting it back to its source, thus canceling the power out. But of course, that would only work if the power originated from a human."
"Wait a minute," Buffy said. "The diamond can take someone's powers and cancel them out?"
"Yeah, by a slightly different kind of transference. In that case, the diamond transfers the power temporarily to itself and then does a boomerang effect to cancel it out. Then the diamond can protect its owner from supernatural attack by humans if necessary. Because you see, sometimes, it's not entirely healthy to absorb someone else's powers because you might not be able to adapt to it."
"But the Fire demons are demons," Buffy pointed out.
"Right. But they're probably not the ones who are doing this magic, because Anya and Spike said these subterranean types don't do much of that. So, it's possible that human witchcraft is behind them. Then you could use the diamond to transfer the magic into the diamond and turn it back to its source and cancel it out. Course you could only do it one demon at a time."
"And, if this magic is being caused by a demon or a god like Glory?"
"Then it won't work. But it's worth a try. At least you'll know who isn't causing the magic."
"And how do I get the diamond to do this?"
"Well, you could hold it in your hand and do various spells and such to make it work. But you don't have any experience with magic so it would be hard. I could try and rework the gun. I could probably tinker with it and find a way. I've got like no classes tomorrow. I could tinker with it."
"I don't have any classes either," Tara said. "So I could help her."
"All right," Buffy agreed. "I'll go get it for you."
Willow seemed very pleased to be performing such an important role. She accepted the gun with a big smile on her face. "This is gonna be fun, she said as she hefted it in her hands to test its weight."
A little while later, Willow and Tara went to bed, with Dawn not far behind.
"Don't worry," Dawn said to her sister. "He'll be home. He's probably just playing poker with the boys or something like that and lost track of time."
"If that's where he is, I'll stake him," Buffy said. But her words didn't have quite as much force anymore. This just wasn't like him. She sat up for a while and watched TV, hoping that he might come in. Then, she stood at the front door and looked out the small lower window for a while, hoping to see his tall form separate from the shadows.
Finally, she went to bed. Only this time she didn't have the same enjoyment in turning in by herself. She kept listening for the front door or his footsteps in the hall. She couldn't find a comfortable position, but kept sliding further and further into his side of the bed as if seeking him there. She yearned to touch him, to pull up close to his body and feel his arms around her.
When Buffy heard Dawn padding around in the morning, she was still wide awake. She went downstairs, moving mostly on auto-pilot. The only breakfast she could think of making was instant oatmeal and orange juice.
"Hey," Dawn said, coming into the kitchen.
"Hey," Buffy returned.
"Did Spike come in last night?"
"No."
"OK," Dawn said, "now I'm getting scared. He's never stayed out all night before. At least, not since he's been staying here."
"It's not like him," Buffy agreed. "I'm going to check his crypt again this morning. And I'll check Willy's myself tonight to see if there's any sign of him there."
- - - - - - - - - -
Jonathan had nodded off to sleep sometime during the wee hours of the morning. But Warren was still pacing and keeping watch over Spike. Sometimes he'd turn off the remote control and question him. But for the most part he'd just sit and watch him squirm in agony.
About the time Dawn was leaving for school, Warren turned off the remote for another question and answer session. It had been a long time since the last one and Spike's body didn't even react to the turning off of the mechanism right away.
"All right, Spike," Warren said, "are you ready to talk yet?"
Spike's eyes crossed and uncrossed as he tried to make sense of the question. "Who's Spike?" he asked uncertainly.
"Don't fool around! I wanna know where the diamond is. Does Buffy have it?"
Again Spike tried to think. Was Buffy a name? "Who's Buffy?"
Warren smashed Spike in the face with his fist. "Don't act cute with me."
Jonathan stirred on his chair and eyed the door at the other end of the room. Warren wasn't holding his new gun at that point. So, Jonathan wondered if he could get up and sneak out while Warren was beating up on Spike. Slowly he slipped out of his chair and tiptoed toward the door.
But Warren's senses were all heightened by adrenaline. He heard Jonathan's footsteps as if they were made by the feet of an elephant. He grabbed his Molecular Disturber and whipped around. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.
"Uh, no where," Jonathan lied. He looked around the room, searching for an excuse. "I'm, uh, I'm just going to the bathroom." He pointed to the little half bath near the stairs. "Is that all right?"
"Oh. Sure. Just no funny stuff, OK? I'm workin' here."
"OK. You just go on with what you're doing." Jonathan locked himself in the bathroom, wishing he could stay there. But he knew he couldn't. Warren's Molecular Disturber could probably take down the door. Outside he could hear Warren questioning Spike. But it didn't seem to be getting anywhere and Warren was getting angrier. "Did you leave that remote thing on all night?" Jonathan asked, coming back out into the basement proper.
"Mostly," Warren said. "I needed to teach him a lesson.
"Maybe that's why he can't answer. Maybe you've fried his brain already."
Warren looked at the little black box in his hand questioningly. "No. It's too soon for that. Andrew agrees with me. At some point the battery in the chip will burn out. It's meant to run a long time, but not constantly like this. By the time that happens, probably within sometime tomorrow morning, I think his brain will be burned beyond repair." Warren laughed at the thought. "Course the chip won't work at that point, but it won't matter, cos neither will his brain. We'll replace it with something else. Make him our servant zombie."
"Yeah, but, he already doesn't know who Buffy is, Dude. Doesn't that sound strange to you? Look, I've been wondering. Maybe we should quit torturing him and instead use him as a hostage. You know, tell Buffy that we've got him and then threaten to kill him if she doesn't get us back the diamond and stay out of our way. Spike's really more valuable to us alive than dead."
"What does Buffy care about him?"
"Because, Dude . . ." Jonathan lowered his voice to a whisper. Not that Spike was listening anyway. He was way off in another world somewhere. "Something happened yesterday day that made me think that maybe Spike and Buffy are more than just working buddies. I think she's his girlfriend."
"What?" Warren made a face. "Don't be stupid. Why would he have wanted the bot then?"
"Stuff changes. Maybe something happened since then that made `em closer. I don't know. But I'm telling you, it's true."
Warren looked at Jonathan in disbelief. It was a ridiculous idea. But the simplest way to test it seemed to be to ask Spike. "Spike," he said, "Is Buffy your girlfriend?"
"Buffy?" Spike said the word slowly, tripping over the two f's. Who's Buffy?"
"Your girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend . . ." Spike's voice trailed off as he sought the answer. He felt very far away, from Warren's basement, from the chip in his head, from all the pain. It was as if this conversation were going on outside of reality, on another plane of existence. "Girl . . . you mean Cecily?" But she wasn't his girlfriend. He wished she was. She was like a goddess floating among beings of clay.
"Who the hell is Cecily?" Warren asked.
But Spike didn't answer. He'd stopped hearing them again.
"I think he's lost it," Jonathan said. "Buffy's probably the one who's got the diamond. I say we try and make a trade with her."
"No. I don't trust Buffy. She doesn't play fair."
"Well, this isn't gonna get us anywhere. Look at his eyes. They're all glassy and starring off into space, like he's not here. I don't think you're gonna get anything out of him."
"At least, I'm gonna get my revenge."
"Really, I think . . ."
Warren picked up his Molecular Disturber again and pointed it at Jonathan. "Andrew and I don't care what you think. Go sit down in your chair and keep quiet. You're outvoted."
Jonathan held up both his hands in surrender. "OK, sure, Dude. Just trying to help."
"We don't need your help!"
Warren continued trying to question Spike. But he got absolutely no where. So Warren turned on the remote control once again. This time it was at a higher level and Spike started to cry out.
From his chair across the room, Jonathan squirmed. Somehow he had to get out and get help. Warren was so gone now there was no hope of reaching him. And he was pretty sure that after Warren finished with Spike, it was gonna be his turn for torture.
- - - - - - - - - -
Buffy found Spike's crypt to be just as empty and desolate as it had been the night before. Since he'd been staying at her house, he evidently hadn't been back there much. The refrigerator was completely empty of blood and it was even unplugged, as if Spike hadn't planned on using it anymore. The bed downstairs, though, was made and still had sheets on it, as if he thought they might be using that on occasion. Not an impossibility, since they came often to the cemetery on patrol.
Buffy climbed into the middle of the cold bed and snuggled against one of the pillows. Where was he? Why couldn't she find any trace of him?
In the early evening, she made her way to Willy's. And though there still weren't many customers yet, Speaker was there. Not playing poker, but talking to various demons. He came up to Buffy as soon as he saw her.
"Slayer," he said, "I've been asking around, but I haven't been able to find out anything about Mr. Spike. He hasn't been here and no one has seen him."
"Thank you," Buffy said.
"It's a pleasure. Maybe I can't be a hero like you and Mr. Spike. But helping you makes me feel like I almost could be one. I promise to keep an ear out. I'll go over to the Bronze later to see the Galera demons. I know Mr. Spike sometimes works shifts for them. They come in here, but not that much. Like the Shadows, they tend to keep to themselves. So do the Nazari, but I've always been such a talker, I find it easier to mix than most of my people."
"Yes." Buffy had to agree. He certainly was a talker. His name fit him quite well. "Thank you for all your help."
"Any time, Slayer," he said earnestly. If he'd had a tail, Buffy had a feeling he would have wagged it.
Speaker went back to talking to the other patrons. And Buffy made her way to the door. Just as she reached for the handle, Tiger, the loan shark stepped in front of her. This was not someone Buffy wanted to see. The last thing she wanted to hear was how big Spike's kitten debt was. "What do you want?" she asked impatiently, her arms crossed.
"Not a thing, Slayer" Tiger answered. "I just heard from the little Nazari that Mr. Spike has been, shall we say misplaced."
"Did you have something to do with it?" Buffy asked sharply.
"No. Not me. I just wanted to say is how I'll keep my eyes out for him and have my boys keep a look out too. I admire a man that pays off his debts like Mr. Spike has. Wish more of my customers would do that. Would make my life a whole lot easier. If I hear anything, I'll tell the Nazari."
"Well . . . good. Thank you," Buffy said, amazed that she was thanking this shark guy who only months before had tried to rough up Spike and the rest of her friends. But lately, she'd been making a lot of strange allies. "I've gotta go now."
"Of course," Tiger said, stepping out of the way. "A slayer's work is never done. Just like mine."