Roads Not Taken - Loose Cannon

Chapter Three

"Loose Cannon"

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. Once you read this, you'll see I have serious doubts whether I'd even want the canon ones anyhow.

Timeframe: Not long after the end of "Primeval"

The fighting, wonder of wonders, appeared to be over at last. Buffy, Willow, Xander and Giles were sitting or standing quietly just outside one of the exits to the Initiative complex. Or rather, what was left of the Initiative complex.

Spike stood a short distance away, puffing on a cigarette, clearly reveling in his fresh memories of the recently concluded battle. Riley stood next uneasily next to Buffy. He was both discomforted by the proximity of Spike, and concerned that, with things calmed down, his official status as 'deserter' would become an issue.

Giles let his thoughts drift back to the battle. He was no stranger to carnage, but this was the first 'battlefield' he'd seen where neither side had possessed any means of retreat or escape, and that had made the aftermath truly ugly. Not that the battle itself hadn't been.

Giles eyes happened across an immensely self-satisfied Spike and found himself suddenly angered. He made his way over to the vampire, triggering a small parade as Buffy followed him, and the others followed loosely in her wake.

"So, Spike, what are we to do with you now?" Giles asked.

"What do you mean?" Spike asked. "I'm a hero now, aren't I? Parades, money, medals, special treatment - all sounds good to me."

"Medals?" Giles echoed. "Tell me, Spike, have you ever read any Victor Hugo?"

Spike's eyebrows narrowed at the apparent non sequitur as he replied. "Les Miserables, right? About some anal retentive wanker who chases a fellow to the ends of the earth just because the poor bloke helped himself to a little something to eat. Can't relate at all," he said with a sneer.

"Actually, Spike, I was thinking of one of Hugo's other works. The Corvette 'Claymore'."

"Don't think I know that one. 'Sit matter?" Spike asked, scornfully.

"You bring it to mind rather strongly for me at the moment," Giles told me. "To summarize, it concerns a sailing ship where one of the cannons has worked loose. It rolls wildly back and forth all over the ship, punching holes in the ship's sides, maiming and killing a number of men unfortunate enough to be caught in its path and causing an enormous amount of damage. Eventually the chief gunner, through a combination of courage and skill, manages to capture and immobilize the cannon before it sinks the ship."

"So?" Spike's tone made the word a challenge.

"The gunner is given a medal for his heroism in saving the ship. Then he's put in front of a firing squad, since the gunner's carelessness is the only reason the gun got loose and the ship was in danger in the first place."

Spike actually lost a bit of his swagger.

"Do not think belated heroism always excuses ill conduct, Spike," Giles finished.

"If you're saying we should give Spike a medal, then stake him, I vote 'yea'," put in Xander. "Especially the stake part."

"That's not an accurate analogy," a new voice calmly stated.

Everyone turned to regard Graham Miller, most of them wondering how Graham had managed to work his way into their midst without being noticed.

"In what way?" Giles inquired.

"You're equating Hostile 17 with the gunner, where it would actually be more accurate to make him the cannon."

There was a brief silence, which was broken by Willow. "So that would make the gunner . . ." she began.

Graham remained calm and silent, declining the unspoken invitation to finish. Giles took it up instead.

"The person - or persons - who let the cannon - that is to say, Spike - run free in the first place," he said unhappily.

"And whose heroism was instrumental in retrieving the situation," Graham continued in his eerie, strangely Oz-like calm manner.

"Now, wait just a damn minute!" Buffy began hotly. "The cannon here was named Adam and we aren't the ones who set him loose!"

Graham was unruffled. His voice remained his regular near monotone as he turned to Buffy and replied, "I don't deny mistakes were made on our part, ma'am."

The words 'as well as yours' remained unspoken, but not unheard.

"But, apart from failing to prevent his initial escape, that," Graham continued as he pointed as Spike, "was not one of ours."

A still angry Buffy was about to spit out a denial, but stopped short when she realized she wasn't clear on what she wanted to deny. She looked around for support.

Riley was the first to speak.

"He's right, Buffy. I love you, but you did make some mistakes here."

"Like what?" came Buffy's indignant reply.

"Like him," Riley said, nodding his head at Spike. "You hid him from us, didn't you? Even before Professor Walsh tried to set you up, back when we thought we were all friends?"

Taken somewhat aback, Buffy mutely gave a nod that was barely perceptible.

"Why?" Riley asked. "He's a vampire. An unapologetic murderer. We put a restraint on him, and for some reason you seemed to think that alone made us the bad guys."

Still in his regular near-monotone, Graham spoke up. "What were you planning to do for an encore? Let all the human murders out of prison because prison is too cruel?" Somehow, the reasonableness of the tone almost made the accusation itself all the more damning.

"You're twisting things," Buffy told him, but with a distinct uncertainty in her voice.

"No, Buffy, he's not," Giles told her gently.

"He doesn't have to," Xander declared. "The truth is plenty bad enough."

"What are you guys saying?"

"Graham - and Riley - are right. We made a multitude of sins. They haven't even reached our worst ones yet."

"Like what?" Buffy asked angrily.

Xander interrupted before Giles could respond.

"I'm guessing it's either we let Spike run around loose, chip or no chip, or that we paid any attention at all to anything he had to say. Much less, enough to let him diddle with our heads."

"Those will do," Giles agreed softly, before an outburst by Riley claimed everyone's attention.

"You let him run loose? Are you out of your minds?"

"He was chipped. He couldn't hurt anybody," Buffy explained defensively.

Riley was actually outraged by the carelessness that statement implied. "How could you be sure? You didn't have access to any information about the chip. For all you knew, it could have burned out five minutes after you let him loose. Did you even think of that?"

Buffy stopped short. Seeing that, so did Riley.

"Oh. You didn't," he stated uncomfortably.

At this point a look passed between Graham and Riley. It was one of those forms of silent communication born through familiarity. In an instant they silently asked each other 'How did these idiots save our asses? And how on earth did we end up in a situation where we needed them to?'.

"Freeze, Spike!" Buffy suddenly shouted. Everyone else noticed that Spike had somehow put a great deal of extra distance between himself and the rest of the group when nobody had been paying attention to him.

Buffy walked over to him and asked, "Going somewhere?"

"A bloke need your permission to stretch his legs now, Slayer?" Spike responded with a sneer.

Buffy ignored it. "We're not done with you, Spike. Wait around. If you do one of your disappearing acts now, the next time I see you I will kill you."

"Like I haven't heard that before," was Spike's scornful response.

Buffy grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down until their eyes were nearly level. "This time it's not a threat. Not a taunt. It's a promise." She gave Spike a shove and he toppled on to his butt.

This was followed by several moments of stunned silence as Spike regained his feet, finally broken by Giles.

"I wonder if we could leave off cataloging our admittedly numerous faults for another day? For now, I think it would be better if were to address the problem of what to do with Spike."

With a look, Graham made it clear he would defer to Riley here. Apparently, Riley's long time status as team leader outweighed his more recent, and still unresolved, status as deserter. At least in Graham's mind.

"I suspect I may have contaminated by spending too much time with a variety of softhearted morons," Riley began, "but Hostile 17 was a big help tonight. I wouldn't feel right myself about just dusting him."

He took a deep breath, and continued. "But he can't run around loose any more either. He has to be caged somewhere. Right now, I'm not sure where, exactly," he finished as his voice trailed off.

"Containment by the Initiative is no longer an option," Graham agreed calmly.

"I don't care if he did come through in the end there," Xander declared in a loud voice, "the only way he's staying with me again is in an ashtray."

"Look, there's really no need to have me inconvenience anyone else," Spike said.

The response was half a dozen faces glaring at him.

"Spike," Giles stated levelly. "Your assistance inside the Initiative earned you enough good will to spare your life - or unlife, if you prefer. But nothing more. And if you don't want us to reconsider that, I advise you to remain silent."

"Just tryin' to help, is all."

"Spike, in case you're not already aware, you're still on very thin ice with us. One more offense - just one, however minor - if you so much as light a match too close to a "No Smoking" sign - "

"You'll put a stake through my heart, yadda, yadda, yadda. Heard it all before."

"No, Spike. I've given it some thought, and I've come up with a more fitting end for a vampire of your stature. As a connoisseur of torture yourself, I'm certain you'll appreciate it."

"What?"

"Some years back, a popular writer published a novel wherein Dracula was actually presented as a sympathetic character. Got most of the details about vampires all wrong, or course. I mention this because there is one point where the Dracula from the book explains his predilection for staking as his belief it is the only punishment applicable to humans and vampires alike.

"When I first read it," Giles went on, "it immediately occurred to me that one ancient method of punishment was being overlooked."

He gave Spike a long, hard, look.

"Spike, if you fail to behave to our satisfaction - our complete satisfaction - this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to find a man-sized cross, and I'm going to chain you to it. Then, at sunset, I'm going to plant you and the cross somewhere with a nice eastern exposure - "

"Not too nice, I hope," Xander interrupted in a slightly shaky voice. "Great art should be savored, not rushed."

"Yes, quite," Giles agreed. "Anyhow, Spike, once that is done I'm going to find a good viewing spot, settle in with a good spot of tea, and wait for the dawn."

Spike's cigarette actually fell out of his mouth as he went slackjawed.

"Do not think I'm bluffing about this, Spike."

"Oh, please, please do think he's bluffing," Xander encouraged gently. "I wouldn't mind seeing him correct your thinking."