The Game by SLynn

Chapter 7: The Break

Xander didn't know how long it had taken, but finally the ringing had subsided. Somehow, the silence that replaced it frightened him more. He had never heard quiet like this. It was absolute and it surrounded him. To make things worse, it was also dark. He sat, his back to the wall, and watched the door. There wasn't much else he could do. He refused to let himself think about the silence. If he thought about it, he might not make it. Besides, it probably wasn't permanent. Constance had healed his leg and arm; she could fix his ears too.

'No, no, no,' he reprimanded, 'don't start that. Don't even start thinking about asking that.'

And he wouldn't. He had sworn many things to himself over the last twenty-four hours, but this promise he would keep. No, he knew what he had to do now. Hearing wasn't important to him. Not any more. All that mattered now was the offer. It was too late for him, but maybe it wasn't for Buffy.

A sudden shift in the shadows caught his eye. She was there.

Constance glided over to him.

She said nothing. She knew, of course, she had deafened him. It just made it that much more interesting to her. Each person reacts uniquely depending upon their threshold levels of pain and tolerance. So far, he'd been fun. Difficult was always fun. And he was difficult. He was determined not to break completely, and he was succeeding.

She looked down at him while he just sat there, staring back.

He was being very difficult, but Constance knew that wasn't going to last much longer. Everyone was different, but in the end they all ended up the same.

He had surprised her though. When she had been able to pick him up so easily, she was sure it wouldn't take more then a few hours to break him, to make him do anything she wanted him too. But he hadn't, and still, almost twenty-four hours later, he was holding on. She didn't expect it of him; she doubted his friends would either.

"Well, time's almost up," she said, knowing he couldn't hear her, and enjoying the puzzled look on his face, "we've got a lot to do."

Still, he sat there, the puzzled look gone. She would make him pay for not giving in sooner.

"I hope you're rested," she smiled down at him, rubbing her hands together.

Despite himself, Xander looked worried.

XXXXxxxxXXXXxxxxXXXXxxxxXXXX

It was a quarter to midnight, and Buffy and Giles were still disagreeing on exactly what she should take with her to fight Constance. Willow and Tara had continued looking up references to Zothos and the rules of Persephone.

"I think that's everything," Buffy said, closing her backpack.

"Well, hold on," Giles said, clearly uncomfortable, "let's double check. The high school is in near ruin. You're sure you have everything you'll need?"

"Giles, I have enough hear to invade a small country. I'll be fine."

She lifted the pack onto her shoulders.

"Besides," she said, looking down and speaking quieter, "Xander's already been there long enough. I don't want to waste any more time."

Giles was silenced.

Together they walked from the training room to the reference section of the Magic Shop.

"Did Anya go home?" Buffy asked Tara.

"No," she said, momentarily putting down her book, "she's in the back. I think she's researching. Buffy, I'm sure she didn't mean anything against you personally. This is tough for her."

"It's tough for all of us," Willow muttered under her breath, still flipping pages.

Tara just shrugged and shook her head.

"Well, I guess I'm going then," Buffy said, trying to prepare herself.

"Good luck Buffy," Tara said, warmly, earning a small smile in return.

"Yeah," Willow added, "we'll be here waiting. If we find something, we'll call."

Giles walked with Buffy out to the car.

"Buffy," he began, "I really don't know what to say, other then be careful."

"I will."

"Yes, I know. Are you sure you're ready for this? There's no telling what she's done or said to Xander."

Buffy looked away, and silently nodded her head.

"You have to bring him back. We'll keep looking into why she'd need a soul, but, whatever the reason..."

Giles trailed off for a moment. Both of them stood in silence.

"I don't care what her reasons are," Buffy finally said, breaking the silence, "I'm bringing Xander back."

"Good then," Giles smiled, patting her shoulder briefly, "we'll see you soon. Both of you."

He turned and walked back to the shop without another word. Buffy climbed into the car and headed toward the high school.

XXXXxxxxXXXXxxxxXXXXxxxxXXXX

Anya sat in the back office quietly reading through the books in front of her. She had heard everything the others had said about Constance needing a soul and it had jogged her memory, some.

There were very few reasons for needing a soul. The most common one was of course for possession, like Zothos had possessed Constance. A vampire steals a soul, in a sense, so that a demon can possess the human body. There were demons that would take a soul as a tribute to other more powerful demons.

Either way, it wasn't really stealing in this case. She was, like she had overheard Giles telling the others, following the rules of Persephone.

Of all the possibilities Anya's mind kept coming back to one. Power. She must want more power. Obtaining a soul, not stealing one, certainly gave you more power. Stealing one had its benefits, it gave you the life force and of course the body. But to gain one, to win one, that was completely a different thing. That would give you not only the body and life force, but also the energy, karma, spirit, memories, attributes, experience, and a thousand different things words could not express. It was the surest form of power in the universe. And the soul of a slayer… it was hardly thinkable.

So who really wanted the soul, Zothos or Constance?

"Constance," Anya whispered after a moment's contemplation.

It had to be. Zothos, if immortal, had all of the power he would need. Constance must be the one in need.

But why?

And then it hit her. Out of nowhere, it hit her. It seemed obvious now, but she had to be certain.

Getting up, she practically sprinted to the other room.

"Giles," she called out, "is there any record showing what kind of invocation Constance used to summon Zothos?"

Some what surprise to find Anya back in front of him, it took a moment for him to recollect.

"No," he finally answered, "I don't believe so. Most of that are second- or third-hand accounts at best. Why do you ask?"

"What if she didn't invoke him?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, what if she didn't invoke him," she repeated, clearly agitated, "what if instead of invoking him, she trapped him, tricked Zothos into playing her game. Playing by the rules of Persephone."

Giles face lit up at the thought.

"And what if, now, after all of this time, Zothos had grown tired, and wants to be free. Is pushing her to free him. So, Constance needs a soul now. She needs the power another soul would give her."

"The power to keep Zothos within…"

"… and keep her immortal."

"Yes," Giles said, nodding, "that makes sense."

"But how could she do that?" Willow asked, not sure if she was following this.

"Well, she would have had access to the right reference material, being a slayer." Giles answered, "It's really more a matter of why."

"We know why," Tara provided, "her watcher was killed. Maybe she offered her soul to Zothos in exchange for the power and won on a fluke."

"We need to know more about what kind of immortal Zothos is." Giles said, quite seriously, "Willow, call Buffy and fill her in. We have to keep looking."

As Tara and Anya sat down together to keep looking for answers, Willow made the call.

"Thank you Anya." Giles said after a moment had passed.

She just smiled, happy to do her part.

XXXXxxxxXXXXxxxxXXXXxxxxXXXX

Xander landed against the wall with a loud thud before sinking to the ground.

"This is fun," Constance said to herself, "too bad you can't hear me. But I don't really need you to, not yet anyway."

She slowly made her way over to him. He was nearly unconscious and a good part of his face was swollen and red with blood. His breathing was labored; likely do from a punctured lung. Besides that his arm, the right one again, had been dislocated. She had made certain of it. Constance had to be sure he made an impression on the slayer when she got here. And that was going to be soon.

She kneeled before him, turning his face with her hand so that he met her eye. She wanted to see his face, see the look in his eye. She wanted him to be afraid.

He was afraid, but he wasn't quitting.

Angry, she knocked his head against the wall. As he began to lose consciousness and slump to the ground, she grabbed him roughly by the arms and pulled him upright again.

Back on his feet, she pinned him to the wall with her forearm again.

A noise, almost like a whimper, escaped him.

'Good,' she thought, 'that's more like it.'

Constance slapped him, hard across the face, to rouse him from his near-sleep. When he opened his eyes, he saw hers, not more then a few inches from him; she was practically staring through him, but he didn't flinch. Not this time.

Then there was that smile. That sick, smug smile she had.

Slowly, she placed her free hand to his forehead.

At first, it felt like he was being electrocuted. The jolt of it sent his body back into the wall. Then there was darkness and a thousand visions filled his head. Visions of all the things that had been wrong with his life. The guilt and pain weighed down on him; hammered into him like thunderbolt. People he had mistreated, and those that mistreated him, all blurred until they were the same. All of the people he had let down in his life, staring back at him, accusingly. In an instant it was all there before him, and then over.

She released him and watched as he curled up on the ground weeping. She turned and walked to the door. She stopped to look one last time before she left to really enjoy the moment. He had been harder then she'd expected, but she knew she'd get to him.

"Don't be too upset," she laughed, "I told you this would happen. It always does."