Part 8: Shattered
Oz glanced over at Eric as he ran a stop sign, nearly sideswiping another car. There was something wrong that night; you could smell death. Even if the Hellmouth always stunk of it, there seemed to be even more this night. The closer they came to the hotel, the more powerful the stench became.
Oz should have known better than to pull his friend into this, but he hadn't known what else to do at the time. All he knew was that some person had sent him an anonymous e-mail with a detailed file by some Dr. Lang on Buffy and Spike and what she had done to them. At the very end of the message had been a warning about Willow and the parasite demon, though how this person knew about it he didn't know.
At the time, he had been in Tibet, and had planned on setting out for the States right then and there when he found out there was a spell that could make Willow Willow again. If done right, that spell would bind Willow's magic. Without the supernatural element, the parasite demon would have died. But a freak snow storm had trapped him, so Oz had called a friend that he had once ran with, Eric.
Eric was like Oz, a werewolf, but he also knew how to control the beast within. He had met him shortly after leaving Sunnydale in his journey to find himself. Eric had been at a bar that Oz was playing at, asked if he could sit in for a session, and the two had been friends since then.
Oz knew that Eric's wife, Katie, had been a powerful gypsy witch when she was alive and had taught her sister, Marie, everything she knew. All it took was a simple phone call, and the two had set out in Oz's place, even allowing him to call the shots with every move they made. It was his decision not to tell the others what was happening; but it would have been too dangerous. He regretted that now.
When Oz had finally made it to Sunnydale that night, they were going to do the spell then he was going to try and explain to the others about the deceit. Now everything had been shot to hell and he was just trying to stop the woman he loved from hurting someone, or worse.
The Taurus came to a screeching halt in front of the old hotel. It looked still as the vacancy sign flashed, which gave him a chill. This whole scene reminded him a little too much of that Hitchcock classic. All that was missing was Norman Bates in drag. Eric ignored it, jumped out of the car, and started to call for his sister-in-law.
"Marie!" the young man yelled as he grabbed the door handle. It was locked. He jerked on it a few times, banged on the door, and called again, "Marie! Open up!"
When still no answer came, Eric looked over at Oz, took a step back, and kicked the door open. The old plywood gave easily enough, but something was still blocking their way. Both men pushed on the broken door to let themselves in. Oz paled at what was on the other side of the door.
Marie's body was slumped against the plywood, her eyes glazed and staring off into nothingness, as trickles of blood dripped from the ends of her mouth and from the many cuts on her face and body. Her left arm was raised above her, a sharp piece of glass jammed through it to keep it in place. But those injuries hadn't killed her. The prefect gash across her throat had.
Oz turned away from the sight, but the image would be forever burned in his mind. The air was thick with her blood, calling to the wolf inside of him. He wouldn't let it out. He couldn't let it out.
Something written on the pale, brown wall caught his eye. Willow had left it, a message in Marie's blood. 'Bring Me The Key!'
"Oh, God," Eric said, snapping out of his shock. "Van."
The blond-haired man charged through the adjoining doors into his own dark room with Oz close behind. Unlike Marie's room that was full of violence, this one sat perfectly still, except for a very small, balled up figure in the corner.
"Daddy?" it said in a small, frightened voice.
Eric flew to it and grabbed his son into his arms.
"I was scared," the child whimpered. "I wanted to be brave, but I was scared and hid."
"It's okay," Eric soothed. "You did the right thing by hiding."
The tips of Oz's lips turned down. He couldn't imagine what Will-that thing would have done had it know about the kid in the next room. God, she must have known about them being here the whole time and was using them as a distraction for the others! How could he have been so stupid?!
Van pulled away from his father, his eyes sparkling from his tears. "Did Re go to be with Mommy?"
The father sighed at his son, rubbing the side of his head like Marie always had. "Yeah, big guy. Marie went to go be with Mommy in heaven."
"But I don't want her to go," he cried.
"I know," he told his son. "I didn't want her to leave either." Eric pulled his son close again and gave Oz a look. He wasn't in this any longer to help out a friend. He wanted revenge now.
**********
Spike sat on the coffee table in front of the slayer, doing his best to try and keep her from slipping into whatever fantasy world that was beckoning her to come. He couldn't let her, she needed to be here to help find Dylan. But even if that were true, and they both knew it, it didn't mean that the world wasn't inviting and that she didn't want to go to it.
Good Lord, he was no good at being the level-headed one, but he had to be right now; no matter how much his demon screamed to go out there, find Red, and tear her apart to get Dylan back. But right now, he had to keep Buffy here, with him. He would listen to his demon later.
Spike watched as Buffy's eyes began to glaze over, then spat her as harshly as possible, "Slayer!"
She blinked at him, but still had that blank look about her. Her mind hadn't even picked up that the word had sounded mean as he intended. So much for a reaction like he had hoped for.
Spike moved closer to her, took her hands into his, and held them up between them. "Listen to me," he said, forcing her to keep eye contact with him. "We'll find her, but you have to stay with me here. You hear me, love?"
She slowly jerked her head up and down to show she did understand, but he had to wonder as she looked away. "Come on, Slayer. I need you to snap out of it."
Connor had trailed in a while ago and made camp down at the end of the couch next to Dawn who was still sound asleep. Willow had said something about having put a sleeping spell on them; and, after trying to wake the girl by bribes of large sums of money and telling her that her favorite band Creed was outside, Spike fully believed it. She must have slipped it into that potion she and Glenda were cooking up earlier.
Angel came downstairs having deposited the still injured Joyce in her room after making sure she would be alright.
"How is she?" Connor asked lowly as his father joined them in the living room.
"She should be fine. I don't think she broke anything, but Joyce will be sore in the morning."
Spike's grandsire gave a sad look towards the parents who had lost their child, then looked over at Connor. Almost felt like he was failing at this all over again, only it wasn't his child this time; it was Buffy's.
"How's she doing?" he asked Spike, nudging his head towards Buffy.
"Barely hangin' in there," he sighed. "Have you got a hold of Rupert or the others yet?"
"No. Whatever she did to Dawn, she must have done to them too. Or she met up with them later and did something worse."
"Worse?" Connor echoed, not understanding. Angel looked over at his son and raised an eyebrow, and the boy seemed to suddenly understand.
"We need to get back to the shop," Angel told them. "If they are okay, we'll need the others' help."
"It won't do you any good," a new voice told him. Spike looked up from the dazed woman in front of him to find Giles coming in through the front door. The Watcher came to a dead stop when he saw Buffy. "Good Lord, what happened?"
"Willow," Angel said in a low voice.
"Oh, dear," he said paling. "I had hoped I would be wrong."
"What? You knew something was up with Red?" Spike asked, his anger flashing through his eyes. If the Watcher knew and didn't tell them, so help him-
"No," Giles replied, shaking his head. "I didn't suspect until I found she had put black water mist into the potion earlier this evening."
"Black water mist?" Angel repeated. "Isn't that the stuff that makes you sleep like a rock?"
"Yes. When I started to feel the effects, I mistook it for pure exhaustion and drank coffee. The caffeine counter acted the spell." The Watcher turned his eyes to the young boy at the end of the couch. "Connor, run into the kitchen and get a Coke or some tea or anything with caffeine in it and give it to Dawn. It should wake her up."
Nodding his head, the kid disappeared into the kitchen and left the adults to talk.
"So, what do we do?" Angel asked like some sort of child looking for answers. None of them even had to ask about what, or who.
"That depends," Rupert sighed. "What does she want?"
"The Key," Buffy answered her voice barely above a whisper. Spike looked back at the young woman; her eyes were still empty and haunted as she slowly shifted to face Giles. "She wants to trade Dylan for the Key."
Giles blinked and drew in a deep breath. "Oh, dear Lord."
Wait a minute. Rupes knew what this 'Key' thing was? She told the Watcher but she couldn't tell him? Maybe they hadn't come as far as he had thought.
"Wait," Angel spoke up. "What key?"
A sharp hacking sound diverted their attention away from the subject for a moment, as Dawn began to cough furiously from having a Coke poured down her throat. Funny, he hadn't even felt the younger version of Peaches come back in. The Niblet rolled on her side, trying to cough up the soda he had forced her to take in, then sat up on the couch in a groggy state.
"What's going on? Where's Mom?"
Spike heard Buffy's breath hitch as she looked at her sister before she leapt out of her seat and took off up the stairs.
Dawn blinked from the couch, confused as the others. "What? What did I say?"
**********
Willow sat perched on the edge of the desk, regarding the child before with quite a bit of curiosity. All of this for her? How strange. There didn't seem to be anything special about her, besides the fact that she wasn't supposed to exist. She had never seen the child do anything extraordinary, except maybe for the fact that she was already able to shock Xander and Giles into complete silence from time to time by repeating things she heard her father say. Other than that, she seemed just like Jessie.
But Willow hadn't been freed from that damned dimension to take Xander's daughter. No, once more it involved Buffy and her family. Willow felt the anger start to build in her. It was always about Buffy, everything was. Buffy knows what's best, Buffy will be able to defeat it, Buffy stopped the apocalypse. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. It's always about Buffy.
Well, Buffy had left a mess when she ran off with the bleached blonde Billy Idol wannabe, and left poor Willow to clean it up. What did Willow get in return? A one way ticket to a place without light, without love, without hope. She had her life taken away, and for what? So Buffy could live hers and have the bastard child of a demon. Typical.
That's not fair, a voice from somewhere in the back of her mind whispered. It wasn't Buffy's fault.
Willow shook her head. Of course it was Buffy's fault. It's always Buffy's fault. It was Buffy's fault that Angel lost his soul. It was Buffy's fault that Ms. Calendar died. It was Buffy's fault Faith turned evil. It was Buffy's fault that Willow got bit by Harmony because she didn't save her at graduation. It was Buffy's fault they were nearly killed that night in the house with Riley. It was Buffy's fault that Adam was released. It was Buffy's fault that Riley didn't stay and she got taken that night. It was Buffy's fault that Willow got sucked into hell with Glory. It. Was. Buffy's. Fault!
Willow pushed herself off the desk and walked over to the pen that held Dylan. The toddler was standing up, looking around the strange new surroundings, trying to determine if she should be scared or not. The witch grinned at her. Yes, she had a lot to be afraid of.
The cell phone rang, turning her attention away from the little blonde-haired girl. Right on time, as usual.
Willow casually walked over to where she had left the little black flip phone, and lifted it to her ear. "Good evening, Mr. Travers."
"Ah, Ms. Rosenberg," the proper British man said on the other end. "I take it everything has gone well?"
"I had a slight problem with some nosy werewolf and his little girlfriend," she sneered. "So, I had a little fun."
"It's taken care of then? Excellent. So, you have the child?"
Dylan watched Willow intensely, as if she were able to hear what the two were talking about. That just made the witch's evil smile grow. "Yes, I have her. As a matter of fact, she's looking at me right now."
She could almost see Travers smiling like the cat that ate the canary on the other end of the line.
"She's a cutie, Mr. Travers," Willow told him, walking back over to the pen and bending down in front of the baby. "Too bad you'll never get to see her."
Travers' breath caught on the other end. "What?! What are you talking about?! You will bring her to ME!"
Willow laughed softly. "And, Mr. Travers, why would I do that?"
"Because we had a deal," he hissed.
"I'm changing our arrangement," she told him.
"Why, you double crossing little bitch! I'm going to send you straight back to hell where I found you!!"
The red head laughed at him again as she stood. "Calm down, Quentin. You'll give yourself a stroke."
Willow began to focus in on her mental picture of Travers. He would be standing there, in his office, clutching the phone tightly in his hands until his knuckles were white as sheets. His eyes would be blazing with anger, and she could see his nose flaring as his breathing becoming heavy with hate.
She could feel his hate within her. She could feel it making his chest tighten; she could feel the tightening move to the back of his head. She was in his head, she could see what he saw. Her mind began to clamp down in the back of his brain, blocking the flow. The pain, the delicious pain. Willow could see the flashes of light before his eyes that were becoming blinding. The world was spinning, faster, harder. He couldn't stand anymore, and fell into the blackness with a groan.
Willow snapped her eyes opened, still holding the phone up to her ear. "Have a nice life as a vegetable, Mr. Travers," she said coldly, then clicked the phone off.
**********
Buffy stood at the crib in her room, staring down at that stuffed animal that Dylan always adorned whenever it was near. A dog. Her daughter had named her stuffed dog Willow. God, she should have gotten a clue, but she didn't want to hear what the child was telling her. And now that she hadn't, Dylan was gone, and it was her fault.
The slayer felt him watching her from behind, but she dared not turn around to face him. Instead of forcing her to look at him by saying something incredibly stupid like she expected, he stepped inside silently and pulled the door closed behind him.
"You want to tell me what this Key is, love?" Spike asked calmly.
But Buffy refused to say anything. Please don't do this to me, she thought, clutching the dog. Please don't make me choose.
"Give it to her," he told her as if he she were some sort of small child who had just been told to give back a toy to another kid. Buffy spun around on her heels and looked at him. "Give her the Key."
The slayer bit down on her lip and said weakly, "I can't."
"Well, do you have it?" he asked a bit more heated. She nodded her head yes, lowering her eyes once again to the toy she held. "Then give it to her," he ordered.
"I told you," Buffy said, turning back to the crib. "I can't."
"Give her the soddin' Key, Buffy," Spike said as coldly as she had ever heard him.
"I can't," she bit back, her own pain and anger rising.
"Bloody hell, woman. She has Dylan! Give it to her!"
"I can't."
He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and held her in front of him. She had never seen him so angry, not even he was trying to kill her all those years ago. "What kind of mother are you?"
Breaking his grip on her, she punched him hard across the face. "I can't!!"
"Why the hell not?!"
"Because it's Dawn!" she said before she even realized it. Silence passed between them as he stared at her. It felt oddly better that he finally knew, though she didn't know how it could help them now. Buffy's anger began to die as his shifted to surprise and shock. She told him softly, "Dawn's the Key."
He blinked at her, his mind refusing to accept what she had said. "What? No. I've known the Bit since-"
"It's not real," she said sadly, shaking her head. "Nothing before two years ago is."
He shook his head as he tried to understand what she was telling him. It had to be wrong. "But I remember…"
Slowly, Buffy moved away from him and went to her bed. She sat down and looked blankly at the floor as she told him what she remembered from before. Even now, after two years, the story felt strange to tell, but it was the truth. How does the saying go? Truth is stranger than fiction sometimes.
"She was what Glory was after. Why? I don't know. All I know is that there were these monks, and they said that they needed to protect the Key from her. So, they sent her to me, complete with memories for me and everyone we've ever met. I don't know what the Key does, but it must be something pretty powerful for them to go through all that trouble." Buffy paused for a moment, and looked down at the animal she still held. "She is my sister, Spike, my blood. They made her from me. She's a part of me, just like Dylan." She looked over at him, unshed tears blurring her visions. "How am I supposed to choose? Tell me. I want to know! How do I choose?!"
He shook his head, looking every bit as confused and torn as her. "I don't know, love."
Buffy felt herself begin to cry. She hated that she couldn't do anything. She hated that she was against her best friend. She hated that she felt like she should give Dawn over to Willow to save Dylan. She hated that no matter what she did, someone she loved was going to get hurt or die.
Spike sat down beside her, and pulled her to him, letting her cry into his shoulder.
The two never heard the teenager that had come up the stairs to see what the shouting was about; they didn't know that she had heard. But Dawn Summers now stood beside her sister's door with her world effectively shattered.
*********