Chapter Eight: The Devlins
"Ohhh," Cordelia moaned as she regained consciousness. The back of her head throbbed and she went to reach up and feel the bump. When she tried to move her hand, though, she found that she couldn't. Opening her eyes, she squinted through the dark to see her arm securely tied to a chair arm. Looking around, she realized she was in the Devlins' back room, tied to the chair she had seen earlier. Further experimentation revealed that not only were both arms tied down, at the wrists and elbows, but also, ropes securely bound her ankles to the chair legs and even more rope wound around her torso and the chair's high back. She supposed she should be thankful she wasn't blindfolded and gagged.
"Hello?" she called out. "Mrs. Devlin? Anyone?" Receiving no response, she raised her voice and shouted, "HEY! What's going on?"
"I told you we should have gagged her," an unfamiliar, masculine voice said in the next room.
So much for that idea, Cordy thought ruefully. She focused her attention, straining to hear the voices through the closed door.
"And if we gag her, how much information are we going to get out of her?" a feminine voice she identified as Mrs. Devlin argued.
"Why can't we gag her until we're ready for the spell?" the presumably Mr. Devlin asked.
"Do you want to get close enough to her mouth to take it off when she's conscious?" the woman demanded sarcastically.
"Why can't we just keep her tied up and gagged until the Council agrees to our demands?" the man countered. "Ever advantage we give her only makes it more likely she'll escape."
"We'd be foolish not to have a back-up plan," the woman explained in a tone that told Cordelia this wasn't the first time the couple had had this argument. "What if they agree, only to take her, kill her, and back out of the bargain? We have to get the information. It'll guarantee they keep their end."
Cordy heard no response, but soon the door opened and the couple entered the room. Were Cordelia not tied up in the woman's back room, she would still think that Mrs. Devlin was the embodiment of a kindly matron. Her husband on the other hand, was exceptionally tall and thin and balding slightly. His face was lean and pinched, giving him classic "bad guy" features.
"Let's cut the crap, shall we?" Cordy asked icily. "I'm guessing you've got some sort of grudge against Darla. But it's not enough for you to just kill her when you had the chance. So, the question is: What do you want?"
"You're not in charge here, vampire," the man practically spat the words at her. "We are."
Cordelia looked around coolly before responding. "I'm getting that. But I can't really help you if you don't tell me what you want." Not that I've got a lot of hope of being able to help you if you do tell me . . .
Mrs. Devlin snorted. "Do you think we're foolish enough to believe that you'll just cooperate with us?"
Cordy rolled her eyes. "Okay, this whole discussion is going to get old real fast. So, let me tell you what I know. One, you want to trade me to the Council, of Watchers I'm guessing, for something. What I don't know, but for Darla, it must be big. Two, I'll help you with what I can, but I don't think it'll be much. You see, I'm not Darla."
"Of course you're not," Mrs. Devlin replied patronizingly. "So, you overheard us talking. And you just expect us to believe that you're not Darla? You match the descriptions. You match the drawings. You told me your name is Darla."
"Do you even remember why I wanted your help?" Cordy asked, exasperated with the conversation already.
"You said you wanted a spell to detect and identify other spells," the woman said. "I'll admit I'm not sure what evil you plan with that spell, but there's no way I'd help a vile creature like you!"
"I wanted that spell," Cordy explained slowly, trying to reign in her temper, "because I think I'm under a spell. I am not Darla. I woke up in her body two days ago. I can only assume she's in mine. Which, I've got to tell you, isn't something that has me jumping for joy. She could be killing my friends, my family. She could be killing me! I have to go home. Do the spell! You'll see I'm telling the truth."
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"So, you cousin seems nice," Buffy ventured.
"Oh, William?" Richard asked, looking up from the checkerboard where he and Buffy were sitting. "He is. Got his head in the clouds most of the time, but a nicer chap you'll never meet."
"What do you mean?" Buffy said, reaching down to double jump her red piece over two of Richards' black ones.
"He fancies himself a poet," the man explained, scratching his head thoughtfully as he studied the board, trying to decide on his next move.
"A poet?" The surprise must have been clear in Buffy's voice because Richard looked up at her quizzically. She quickly tried to explain, "I, um, he just didn't strike me as the poet type."
"He isn't," Richard said laughing good-naturedly. "This is, his poems aren't very good. But, he's always been a dreamer." The man shook his head sadly as he continued. "His father passed away this summer. William will graduate from University this year, and then, he'll have to take over his father's business. I dare say he isn't looking forward to it."
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.
"At University he's always chosen to take more literature and humanities classes than anything else. His father was an accountant. William's quite smart, but his heart's never been in the more mundane studies, like math. But, someone has to support his mother, so William's been chosen."
"Oh." Buffy wasn't sure of what else to say.
Richard returned his attention to the board and chose to move one of his back pieces forward.
"So, tell me more about him," Buffy said conversationally, aware that her continued interest might arouse Richard's suspicions, but unable to resist this opportunity. The previous evening, she had found herself at a loss for words when she was introduced to the man who had so obviously become Spike. After a momentary pause, she'd recovered enough to smile and exchange pleasantries with the group throughout tea. She'd begged off being an active participant on the grounds that she'd felt dizzy when she stood up to greet William and her "amnesia," which made telling them about herself thankfully impossible. Everyone had been appropriately sympathetic, allowing her ample opportunity to study William while the others talked.
To her surprise, Richard laughed. "You seem quite taken with him, Dru."
Buffy's eyes grew wide, and she started to protest, unsure of how to answer, before realizing that this could work to her advantage. If you only knew the half of it . . .
"I should warn you," Richard cut her off before she could form and voice a complete thought. "Right now he's absolutely dizzy over this horrid woman named Cecily. She'd never look twice at him. Too concerned with money." He gave her an appraising look before continuing, "Actually, I think you might be good for him, Dru."
I don't think either Drusilla or I qualify as "good for him," Buffy thought sadly, but knowing the chance to learn more about William was too good an opportunity to pass up, she simply smiled in response to Richard's comment and moved her game piece. ☼ ☼ ☼"Well," Willow said, pushing the Talk button on the phone, terminating the call she'd been engaged in. Turning to the others, she announced, "Drusilla showed up in LA."
"Buffy's in LA?" Dawn asked, excitedly. "That's great!"
"No," the witch said slowly. "Drusilla's in LA."
"The same Drusilla that's supposedly in Buffy?" Xander asked.
"Yeah," Willow said, sighing. "Only, apparently, she's not. From something she said, they think we're dealing with time travel."
The others just looked at the redhead for a moment before Xander broke the silence. "Say what?"
"Drusilla said something that made them think of time travel. Which would explain the fact that she's there, but she's also in Buffy."
"Oh," Anya said in realization. "Of course. That makes sense."
"And again, I say, say what?" Xander said, looking between Willow and Anya.
"It's like a house," Willow explained. "Say, for example, that you have a house with three floors. And you're on the first floor. There can only be one of you in the house at one time, no matter what floor you're on. Since you're on first floor, there can't be another you on third floor. You with me so far?"
"Yeah," the dark-haired man said, "but I'm not seeing what this has to do with time travel."
"I'm getting there. Okay, now pretend that instead of three floors, your house has a whole bunch of floors. And each one is a different dimension."
"And you can only be in one dimension at a time," Dawn said, trying to wrap her mind around the analogy.
"Right. Now, the trick is, that each moment in time, is its own house," Willow continued. "So, no matter what dimension you're in, whether it's this one, or, say, a hell dimension like Darla should be in, there can only be one of you in each given moment in time."
"So, Dru and Darla can't wake up in their borrowed bodies because there's already one of them in this moment in time," Spike finished the analogy, nodding thoughtfully.
"Okay," said Xander, "so how do we fix it? How do we find out When in time are Buffy and Cordelia?" The last part he sang to the theme song from Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego.
"Not that far, yet," Willow said, rolling her eyes at Xander's humor. "Drusilla seems to know what's going on, so they're going to see if they can get any more information out of her. We're going to look for a way to reverse it or find out when they are. We can probably narrow down our time search, though."
"Yeah, if I did a time travel spell," Spike said, "I'd probably be trying to change the past."
"Right," Willow responded. "And with both Dru and Darla involved, it seems likely that it's an attack on Angel. Wesley told me there's this law firm that's always trying to get Angel to turn evil because they think he's too great a power for good. Maybe they decided they weren't going to succeed and that if they sent Buffy and Cordy back to a particularly evil point in his past, one of them would kill him, erasing his potential to do good."
"Huh," Spike snorted. "It's always about Angel."
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As soon as she sensed the sun was down, Buffy smiled at Richard and William, the latter having joined them for the evening meal, while Mrs. Fox was visiting her sister across town.
"You know I'm feeling much better," she said. "Could we go out for a while? Maybe a walk? I'm sure the fresh air would do me good."
Richard smiled at her and said, "I'd like that very much. You know, some friends of ours own a shop not to far from here that carries various medicines. They might have something to help you regain your memory."
"Great," Buffy smiled, trying to sound genuine. Eek! Dark ages medicine! she thought, Wonder if this "cure" will involve leaches?
Once outside the house, Buffy was surprised and flattered to find both men offering her an arm. Placing herself between the two and taking one arm from each, Buffy smiled. Remembering her earlier conversation with Richard and deciding she might as well play the part for all it was worth, she turned to the other man and said, "So, William, tell me about yourself."
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"Now what do we do with her?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes as she listened to the Devlins bicker in the next room. They'd apparently forgotten or were unaware of vampire hearing capabilities. The original spell Cordelia had been looking for and two separate truth spells later – because you never knew if they were going to work exactly right on a vampire – and the couple finally believed her story. Luckily for Cordy, the truth spells had both been of the variety that did not compel her to speak. They only compelled her to tell the truth when she choose to speak. To be honest, she hadn't tested whether she could lie or not – the truth being in her favor. The Devlins had, surprisingly, accepted the argument when she refused to answer certain questions that it would endanger the future. While their other morals seemed transitory enough, they appeared to be firm believers in not corrupting the timeline.
"Our back up plan's shot," Mrs. Devlin said. "But that doesn't mean we can't go through with the original plan. Either we can switch her back and then we'll have Darla again, or the Council can do it, after they have her."
Cordy tuned out the conversation as it degraded into the arguing between the couple she'd become so familiar with in the past few hours. I can't let myself be turned over to the Council, she thought. They might be able to get me home, but they'll kill Darla for sure. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I can't let that happen For Connor, if nothing else..
I guess I'll just have to escape, the seer decided as the bell over the shop door rang, drawing Cordelia's attention back to the other room.
To be continued in: "Chapter Nine: I'm Not"
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A/N: Let me know what you think, if you're so inclined. Special thanks to Winter for the nice feedback last chapter. Go check out her stories; you'll love them! Especially the "Weathered" series and "Breath of Heaven."