"Still Bound", chapter 2
by BonnieD
Set about a year after "Something Blue". Things have played out close to canon but a little twisted in my Buffyverse due to the close encounter Buffy 'n' Spike have already shared. If events of season 5 are out of order, combined, telescoped, or otherwise rearranged, it's because I needed to do so. Hope you enjoy this continuation of the "Golden Bands" AU.
Special thanks to my very first beta reader, Zyrya, who helped give direction and shape to the story by making me identify my ultimate goal and useful technical advice about the writing itself.
********
The hole in Spike's chest where Glory had poked her finger through and diddled around with his heart was still seeping a steady stream of blood. He'd been gut-punched so many times that if he hadn't taken care over the years to develop abs of steel he probably would have sustained some major damage. His eyes were both well on the way to swelling shut and he was relatively certain his cheekbone was shattered, which really pissed him off 'cause an asymmetrical face - not so pretty, and he needed to stay pretty to attract Buffy.
His arms were aching continuously now, right at the socket joints just like the old days. Luckily the bitch didn't know that this was a cakewalk for him. Spike could hang around in chains for days and had done it on many an occasion. 'Course it had been a few years, but it was like stalking prey. You didn't lose the touch just because you hadn't done it in awhile, and you didn't forget how to surf the pain, not when you had been trained by a master torturer and a pixie-touched madwoman.
All this reminiscing about bondage and ball gags was making him a little misty-eyed and kind of horny. He shifted in his tight jeans and wished his hand were free just long enough to adjust his bits - and thank god she hadn't had a go at the crotch area yet!
The door opened and Glory was back for another round. Spike steeled himself.
"All right, you've had some 'me' time to think about what I said. Now what's it gonna be? Are we going to do things the pleasant way or the hard way, honey?" she asked as she sauntered across the room. "I KNOW you've got some info for me. I can see it in those baby blues. For being Evil you're an awful bad liar."
"Don't know what you're talking about," Spike muttered. "Like I told you before, just got back in town."
Glory grabbed his chin tight enough to make his jawbone creak. "Look, sweetie, I know you've got the hots for the Slayer. I can smell it on you every time I mention her name. But Slayers and vampires? Not a match made in heaven. She's never gonna give you what you want so why don't you give ME what I want? Easy as pie."
His nostrils flared and he glowered at her. Glory rolled her eyes and thrust his face away, snapping his head back on his neck. "Come ON! Who do you think you're protecting? And why would you bother? I'm gonna find out sooner or later so save yourself some pain and me some time and just...."
"All right," he hissed, eyes narrowed. That clever inner voice he never listened to was screaming at him to continue to play dumb or, even better, give her what she wanted, but as usual Spike tuned it out.
"I'll tell you." He lowered his voice and Glory leaned in, smiling happily, eyes sparkling with excitement. "You ever seen that TV show where the bloke gives out prizes...?
********* While Spike was successfully pissing off the hell-god and spurring her to new heights of cruelty with his witless tongue, Buffy reconnoitered with Giles to decide her next move. She had no clue where to find Glory until, in a convergence of need and luck that could only occur on the Hellmouth, one of the scabby minions fell practically into her lap when she caught him spying outside the Magic Box. Under Giles' influence the creature was coerced into showing them the way to the hotel where Glory had set up shop.
Buffy was surprised when she saw what beautiful lodgings her nemesis had commandeered. Subterranean caverns and burnt out buildings seemed to house her adversaries more often than not. Then she entered the hotel and found that, though sumptuously decorated, it was deserted - up for sale evidently - which would explain why Glory's disfigured servants could come and go without question.
Buffy, Xander and Giles barely had time to scan the lobby before a contingent of Glory's minions rushed them. Although small, they were wiry and seemed to be everywhere at once like a gang of sewer rats. A pair of them had Giles backed to the wall, swinging his sword to keep them at bay. Xander lost his weapon almost immediately when one of the creatures delivered a sharp blow to his wrist that forced him to drop the axe and sent it sliding across the floor. He dove for it and was knocked flat and straddled by his foe. The rest of the servants went straight for Buffy, keeping prudently out of her range as she spun and kicked, ducked and lunged, parried and thrusted like a dervish.
********
Spike's eyes were now so swollen he could barely make out the shape of his tormentor as she drew back her hand for another blow.
"Talk, you melatonin-deficient slug! I know you know! So tell me. WHERE - IS - MY - KEY?"
Suddenly the punches that punctuated each word stopped. Curious, Spike managed to force his right eye open and was amazed and amused to see Glory's features skewing and rippling like an oil slick of colors as she morphed into another form. Her curly blond hair shortened to floppy brown locks. The very bone structure of her face and body audibly crackled as it shifted and the flesh made yummy slushy sounds that made Spike's mouth water.
The god's mouth fell open and she moaned, "No! No! Nooooo!" Then, as quickly as Spike himself was able to vamp out, Glory turned into a man. A dark-haired bloke still wearing the skank's strapless red dress stood there blinking, looking like a very ugly drag queen suddenly thrust on stage in the middle of the big finale. Despite his pain, Spike snorted with laughter.
The guy focused on the chained vampire and groaned in dismay. "What have you done now, you insane bitch?" He reached a tentative hand toward his victim. "I am SO sorry." He looked around for a key to unlock the manacles and spied a couple of the minions sneaking from the room. "What is going on here? Who is this guy and what was Glory doing with him?"
The robed servant put his hands together and inclined his head. "The superlative, stupendous Glorificus has been questioning this humble being about the whereabouts of her Key, O Gentle Ben."
Glory's alter-ego was already unlocking Spike's shackles as he listened to the explanation. The moment he was free, Spike stumbled on his weakened legs. He regained his balance, then quickly wrapped the chain around the young man's neck and began to strangle him. Almost instantly the chip fired. Pain that dwarfed all of Glory's torture strobed through his brain. The bitch's counterpart was human?! How was that possible?
Ben tore the chain from his throat and whirled around to face Spike, hands held up placatingly.
"Listen. I know you're upset. And I'd love to be able to explain this, but...." He shrugged. "Why don't you just go on home and try to get over it? In about a minute, you'll forget you even saw what you, uh, thought you saw."
"Sir," Jinx protested. "This lowly one has information critical to our splendiferous...."
"Didn't I stab you once?" Ben interrupted, rounding on the little man. "How could you possibly imagine I would do anything to help her?"
"You must bow to the inevitable, your lordship. Our munificent and praiseworthy Lady will find her Key and the portal to her dimension will be opened. Then we will all return home to our.ah.haphazard world of chaos and disharmony for ever and ever..."
"In Glorificus we trust!" the other minions intoned solemnly.
"And I wink out of existence!" the young man exploded. "Not on your little scaly life! Not if there's any way I can stop it. I'll turn the Key over to the Knights of Byzantium personally or dispose of it myself if I have to!! Glory is not going to ruin my life!"
Spike took the opportunity to stagger out of the room before the annoying little zealots or the Good Twin could gather their wits. He lurched down the hall toward the elevator doors, pried them open and tumbled down the shaft to land on top of the compartment with a thud. Opening the grille in the ceiling of the lift, he dropped through to the floor only to feel the elevator begin to reascend toward the level he had just escaped.
"Bugger!" Spike scrambled for the emergency button, stopping the compartment between floors. Using his bare hands, he crow-barred the doors open with all the strength left in his battered and abused body. He tumbled down once more, this time to the lobby floor.
He was stunned to find himself witness to a full-out battle between the minions and Buffy's Avengers. Giles crossed the lobby floor right in front of him, hacking and slashing with his battered blade as he pressed his foes toward the stairs. Harris had one of the opponents in a headlock and was ramming him repeatedly into the front desk, scarring the beautiful mahogany finish. And Buffy..
Spike's heart swelled as he feasted on the glorious sight of the Slayer, teeth bared, grunting in that sexy way she had with each punch and kick, pummeling through several of the dwarfish lackeys. Methodical yet ferocious, she was a killing machine and he loved her more than ever. It was a bloody rescue party! She had come for him!
One of the minions was cast his way and sprawled across him. Spike slipped into game face and tore into his jugular, slurping up the life-giving liquid. Rowr!!! He was starving. Even demon blood tasted good tonight.
Giles and Xander forced the last two adversaries into retreating up the stairs. Buffy, grimacing in disgust when she saw the vampire feasting on Glory's minion, hauled Spike up by one arm.
"Come on!" she shouted to her companions, who needed no more prompting to follow her and Spike as they burst through the lobby doors into the cool night.
"You...you came for me," Spike panted as she hustled him along. He stumbled and she took his dead weight when he started to slip to the ground.
"Xander, help me!" she commanded as she tried to right Spike. Xander rolled his eyes but complied, hauling the vampire's arm around his shoulders. Supported between them, Spike focused all his concentration on putting one foot in front of the other.
"To my flat," Giles said decisively. "Glory probably knows where all of us reside by now but it may take her longer to find us there."
The pink light of early morning was already suffusing the sky when they arrived at the Watcher's home, a place Spike had never dreamed he would be so grateful to see again. They entered and were instantly surrounded by a flock of clucking, nurturing females - brewing tea, fetching blankets, fluffing pillows and administering bandages and aspirin.
Spike was dragged to Giles' spare room and tucked into bed. He revelled in the womanly attention, which lasted just long enough for Tara and Willow to bind his wounds and Dawn to serve him a nicely warmed bloodpack before Buffy shut it down by shooing everyone else from the room and closing the door. She turned to him, arms folded, and regarded him with a long, searching stare.
"What?" he mumbled through his dislocated jaw.
"How much did she get out of you?"
"Nothing!!" Spike was deeply offended. He struggled to sit up.
"Glory tortured you for, what, five or six hours and you told her nothing?" Buffy sounded incredulous.
"God's sake, Slayer, you asked me to look after your little sis. Why'd you do it if you don't trust me?" He sank back into the pillows with a disgusted sigh.
Buffy watched him a moment longer, then stepped to the bedside and brushed her fingers through his tousled curls once. "All right," she assented quietly. "Sorry. You did good, Spike." She rested her hand fleetingly on the side of his swollen face, then pulled back and prepared to leave. "Uh, get some sleep now."
His eyes were already closed before she turned away.
Buffy was halfway through the door when Spike's gravelly voice called her back. "Almos' forgot. Somethin' you should know...'bout the bitch."
"Yeah?"
"She turns into someone else...a human. Bloke named Ben. I think you could get to her then...." he mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.
For an instant Buffy's eyes widened in amazement and she opened her mouth to ask a question, then a blank look came over her face. She shook her head as if to clear it as circuits in her brain blew the information right back out again. She closed the door behind her, and Spike slept.
**********
The next morning, or actually afternoon for the Scoobies who had slept the day away, Buffy woke when an arm smacked across her face. She pushed it away irritably, and its owner grunted and rolled over. Her back ached abominably from lying on a thin quilt over a hardwood floor with...she dug under herself and came out with a beaded, macramé purse...Dawn's purse digging into her. And the delicate whistle of Tara snoring hadn't been exactly conducive to a good day's sleep.
Buffy sat up, stretching and yawning, and looked over her sleeping comrades. Anya and Xander were curled around each other like a yin and yang symbol. Lucky them. Ditto Willow, whose arm had just whapped her in the face, and Tara. Willow was spooned around her lover's back, nuzzling her neck even in their sleep. Dawn was sacked out as if she were in her bed at home. She had been given the couch and was sprawled all over it, arms and legs jutting out at impossible angles.
Buffy rotated her neck to release the crick in it, and wished she'd accepted Giles' offer to use his bed. The younger people had all insisted that a slumber party on the living room floor was no problem and that his old bones needed the rest more. She glanced upstairs and thought about the occupant of the other small bedroom. Even Xander hadn't quibbled about letting Spike rest in comfort after the beating the vampire had received from Glory. Buffy wondered how he was doing. Then she wondered why he'd done it. What had made this perverse creature remain loyal as a hell-god beat him to a bloody pulp? Well, the answer was in the question she decided. Sheer perversity. Spike didn't like anyone telling him what to do. That had to be it.
She rolled her shoulders once and started to rise to her feet. Instantly a wave of nausea rushed over her. She took a deep breath, waiting for her stomach to settle, and tottered into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. As she popped the packet into the coffee-maker and filled the carafe, Buffy began her daily task: worrying. "It's what I do best these days," she murmured aloud. "Pretty soon they'll be calling me 'The Chosen One - Worrier of the People'."
Rummaging in Giles' cupboards, she located some bizarre kind of British crackers and wondered why the man couldn't eat Saltines like everyone else. How many years had he been in the U.S. now? She opened the bag, sniffed at the cracker she extracted, then began nibbling it. Her stomach started to settle.
This nausea was not a good sign. Not at all. Everyone knows when someone coughs at the beginning of a movie they're going to die by the final frame, and if a woman is shown throwing up in the morning, well.... But it couldn't be possible, could it? Not on top of everything else. Hadn't she worked in the service of Good, protecting humanity for most her young life. Wasn't it time for the higher powers to cut her some slack? "Please god, no," she prayed silently.
Buffy was an expert at living in the land of denial but even she had her limits and her inner voice told her that today she must quit stalling around and buy the damn test. At least knowing would be better than this awful wondering.
"Good morning, Buffy." Giles' unexpected voice made her drop the box of crackers on the floor. She spun around.
"Jeez! Don't sneak up like that!" she complained , bending to retrieve the box.
He frowned at her quizzically.
"Sorry," she amended, a bright smile flashing across her face. "My bad. I'm not a morning person. Not even at..." she looked at the kitchen clock, "2:30 in the afternoon."
"That's quite alright. Did you find something to eat? I believe I have a box of cereal in the pantry..."
"I'm good," Buffy assured him. "Got my crackers and hey, English guy's actually got a coffee maker in addition to the tea kettle!" She gestured to the percolating brew.
Giles began to lay out fruit and various juices from the refrigerator for his guests. Buffy continued to chew her crackers thoughtfully while she watched him.
"So," she began, "how's Spike this morning? Did you take a look?"
"Yes. Yes. He appears quite...like he's been run over by a truck rather than a steamroller today. Quite an improvement." He handed her a blood pack from the fridge. "If you don't mind..."
"Sure." Buffy made a moue of distaste as she cut the bag and glopped the cold liquid into a mug, then set the mug in the microwave.
"Buffy," Giles continued. "I know you told us that Spike has sworn he didn't betray Dawn to Glory, but do you really think it's wise to trust him? Spike hasn't exactly been known for his veracity in the past."
"I know his track record, Giles. I lived it, remember? But we don't have a lot of choice. Maybe it was stupid of me to entrust Dawn to him. I don't know. I just couldn't think of anyone else strong enough to protect her. And now, well if he's lying then Glory may be storming over here to get Dawn as we speak, but if he isn't then maybe we're safe - for just a little longer."
Giles met her eyes, nodded, and returned to paring an apple while Buffy bore the now steaming cup of blood up to their patient.
She knocked softly on the door to the guest room, then realized how ridiculous that was given the circumstances and entered slowly, balancing the overly full mug. Spike was still sound asleep, so Buffy crossed to the nightstand where she deposited his breakfast.
It was strange watching him sleep. Without breath causing his chest to rise and fall he should have looked dead, which of course he was, but she could see his eyes moving rapidly behind puffy, closed lids and occasionally a muscle would twitch or a limb move involuntarily. He didn't look morbid at all. He looked like Spike asleep.
She ran a practiced eye over his injuries. The dark bruises marring his pale skin would fade; the cuts heal seamlessly. It was the broken bones that worried her. Without a doctor to set them properly would they grow back together like a poorly put together jigsaw puzzle? She was sure his ribs were cracked, and one leg had seemed almost useless when they tried to walk him here yesterday. But Glory had done the most damage to his beautiful face and it was a crime to let a smashed cheek or jawbone mar his perfection.
Buffy mentally spanked herself for dwelling on his looks. He'd heal up one way or the other, and what did it matter as long as he was still functioning and useful? Again the very obvious question of why he was being useful to her reared its ugly head and again Buffy bashed it down.
She debated whether to wake him and offer him food or let him sleep some more, but she knew vampires healed faster the more blood they ingested so she leaned over to gently poke his arm.
"Wakey wakey, Spike. Breakfast," she sing-songed.
"I AM awake," he mumbled. "Can't open m'fuckin' eyes."
"Oh." Buffy was taken aback. "Do you.do you need a cold compress or something to take the swelling down? Maybe some aspirin?"
"No. Just feed me," he rasped, wildly reaching out and almost knocking the mug off the table.
"Okay. Chill. Let me get you set up here." She went around to the other side of the bed, plumped the pillows and lifted the patient to a sitting position, then she reached across him and retrieved the blood. "Now be careful. It's really full and kind of hot." She guided it to his lips and he cursed when the liquid burned them.
"How long d'you leave it in?" he complained.
"Sorry I'm not an expert at vampire cuisine," she snapped. He was still frowning like a pouty baby, so she sighed, blew on the already lukewarm blood and offered the mug again. Judging it acceptable, he began sucking it down awkwardly through his torn and swollen lips.
"So what did you think of Glory," Buffy asked after a minute of listening to his slurping. "Did you notice anything that could be useful to us? Any signs of weakness or ways to get at her through the minions? Any easy ways in and out of the building so we could sneak in and go through her things? Tell me exactly what happened the whole time she had you. There may be something you don't think is important that could prove crucial."
Spike frowned again. "Didn't I tell you last night? Yeah, I found out something all right. Glory changes into human form. Think you could take care of her then. No godlike powers an' such."
"Glory changes.." Buffy trailed off. "Well how do you know she becomes human? What does she look like? Maybe we could capture and cage her some way.?"
"Or kill him," Spike said.
"Kill who?"
"She changes into a man, a dark-haired fellow, 'bout six-foot, square-jawed type. I could point him out to you but I can't do the job myself. His name was Brian.no, Ben.that's it."
Spike peered through slitted eyes at the fuzzy image of Buffy looming over him looking increasingly excited. When he mentioned the name Ben, however, she froze for a second then resumed the conversation as if she'd missed half of it.
"So you're saying Glory takes on another form. Maybe we could find out what she changes into and kill it."
"Uh. Yeah. That's what I'm sayin'." The effort to talk was making his jaw hurt and trying to decipher Buffy's strange attitude was making his head ache. "And I'm pretty sure I said it last night too. We just have to find this Ben guy and."
"Ben? I know a Ben. He's an intern at the hospital. He's a real sweet guy. You know him?"
"Met him yesterday," Spike said dryly. "Lovely fellow. Look, are you off your nut or what? I'm telling you that Glory is Ben and Ben's Glory."
As if she hadn't heard him, Buffy plowed on, "What brought him up anyway? I thought you were going to tell me something about Glory."
Spike stared at her for a moment then said quietly, "I think I need to rest now." He slouched down in the bed pulling his pillow with him, and closed his eyes. "Check back with me at lunch time. Maybe I'll have more information for you then."
"Come on Spike. Quit playing around," Buffy protested. "We are all seriously in trouble, even vampires, if we don't do something about this evil bitch. I don't know what her exact plans are but world domination is a safe bet."
"Oh!" Spike squinted up at her. "That's right! I almost forgot. The Key. It's to open a portal back to her home dimension." He laughed harshly. "That's all she's here for - dizzy bint lost the key to her front door!"
"Well.that can't be good," Buffy said thoughtfully. "How exactly will she 'use' Dawn? And if this portal is opened wouldn't things from her world be able to come here?"
"Stands to reason," Spike agreed. He handed her his nearly empty mug in which the pig's blood was now congealing. "As for how she will use your girl, I'll wager blood. It's always the blood. Carries the essence of what a being is, you know."
Buffy stared down at the mug in her hands. Suddenly one hand flew to her lips and her throat worked convulsively as she tried not to retch.
"Come now. Did my breakfast offend your delicate sensibilities, love?" Spike watched her fight her nausea and wondered what was up with the girl. Considering all the pressure she was under it was not surprising she might have stomach problems, but there was something else.something different he couldn't quite put his finger on. He would have to think about it when his head didn't hurt so much.
"I'm fine!" she snapped when she was able to talk again. "A little stomach flu, that's all." She rose and prepared to sweep from the room and then stopped, one hand absently smoothing the blanket at the foot of the bed. "I almost forgot."
She stood there so long Spike became impatient and prodded, "Ye-es?"
"Dawn wanted.and I.well, we both wanted...to thank you for, you know, what you did yesterday. It was." She slowly lifted her eyes from her fidgeting hand to his face. "It was a..heroic..thing. Thank you."
Spike's eyes shifted to the side and he was suddenly intent on examining the lamp on the bedside table, but a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Well don't make too much of it," he cautioned gruffly. "I just didn't like that pushy bitch trying to force me to talk. Stubbornness, that's what it was."
"Force you? Since when does anyone have to force you to talk, Spike?" Buffy lightly teased. "But the stubbornness? That I'll believe." She smiled at him - one of those full-on, 1,000 watt, California girl smiles that melted his core - and walked quickly from the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
******* "Holy fuck! What a stunner!" he muttered to himself as he stared at the closed door. That smile? It was an illustrated reminder of why he'd suffered through torture at Glory's hands. Oh yeah, he'd do it again for one of those.
Spike thought about Glory's Achilles heel. What would he do if he were an all-powerful god whose weakness was human mortality while in human form? Hide the weakness, of course. Seems vampires were immune to whatever mojo she cast, but if he spoke to any of the others he'd probably get the same reaction as Buffy had given him - an obtuse refusal to see what was right before their eyes. Typical.
He supposed it was just as well the humans couldn't wrap their minds around the Glory-Ben equation. Knowing Buffy the need to sacrifice one to save many would be unpalatable. She would be helpless to kill the man that hid the monster. Spike would have to take care of the matter himself. Maybe not personally, but he knew a guy..
********
After a day with the gang spent hashing and rehashing Spike's information about the Key and the fact that Glory changed into another form of some type, Buffy finally managed to find time alone late in the evening to patrol, pick up blood for the invalid vampire and check on her house. She also stopped and bought the item she now held in her shaking hands as she sat on the toilet seat in her mother's bathroom. Would it always be 'mom's bedroom', 'mom's bath' she wondered?
She stared at the incriminating evidence she held, waiting for it to turn another color, maybe a nice magenta or a subtle peach. Even olive green would be lovely right now. But the little stick remained a bright, cheerful baby blue.
"Riley, you're going to be a daddy," she murmured.
To be continued..
Set about a year after "Something Blue". Things have played out close to canon but a little twisted in my Buffyverse due to the close encounter Buffy 'n' Spike have already shared. If events of season 5 are out of order, combined, telescoped, or otherwise rearranged, it's because I needed to do so. Hope you enjoy this continuation of the "Golden Bands" AU.
Special thanks to my very first beta reader, Zyrya, who helped give direction and shape to the story by making me identify my ultimate goal and useful technical advice about the writing itself.
********
The hole in Spike's chest where Glory had poked her finger through and diddled around with his heart was still seeping a steady stream of blood. He'd been gut-punched so many times that if he hadn't taken care over the years to develop abs of steel he probably would have sustained some major damage. His eyes were both well on the way to swelling shut and he was relatively certain his cheekbone was shattered, which really pissed him off 'cause an asymmetrical face - not so pretty, and he needed to stay pretty to attract Buffy.
His arms were aching continuously now, right at the socket joints just like the old days. Luckily the bitch didn't know that this was a cakewalk for him. Spike could hang around in chains for days and had done it on many an occasion. 'Course it had been a few years, but it was like stalking prey. You didn't lose the touch just because you hadn't done it in awhile, and you didn't forget how to surf the pain, not when you had been trained by a master torturer and a pixie-touched madwoman.
All this reminiscing about bondage and ball gags was making him a little misty-eyed and kind of horny. He shifted in his tight jeans and wished his hand were free just long enough to adjust his bits - and thank god she hadn't had a go at the crotch area yet!
The door opened and Glory was back for another round. Spike steeled himself.
"All right, you've had some 'me' time to think about what I said. Now what's it gonna be? Are we going to do things the pleasant way or the hard way, honey?" she asked as she sauntered across the room. "I KNOW you've got some info for me. I can see it in those baby blues. For being Evil you're an awful bad liar."
"Don't know what you're talking about," Spike muttered. "Like I told you before, just got back in town."
Glory grabbed his chin tight enough to make his jawbone creak. "Look, sweetie, I know you've got the hots for the Slayer. I can smell it on you every time I mention her name. But Slayers and vampires? Not a match made in heaven. She's never gonna give you what you want so why don't you give ME what I want? Easy as pie."
His nostrils flared and he glowered at her. Glory rolled her eyes and thrust his face away, snapping his head back on his neck. "Come ON! Who do you think you're protecting? And why would you bother? I'm gonna find out sooner or later so save yourself some pain and me some time and just...."
"All right," he hissed, eyes narrowed. That clever inner voice he never listened to was screaming at him to continue to play dumb or, even better, give her what she wanted, but as usual Spike tuned it out.
"I'll tell you." He lowered his voice and Glory leaned in, smiling happily, eyes sparkling with excitement. "You ever seen that TV show where the bloke gives out prizes...?
********* While Spike was successfully pissing off the hell-god and spurring her to new heights of cruelty with his witless tongue, Buffy reconnoitered with Giles to decide her next move. She had no clue where to find Glory until, in a convergence of need and luck that could only occur on the Hellmouth, one of the scabby minions fell practically into her lap when she caught him spying outside the Magic Box. Under Giles' influence the creature was coerced into showing them the way to the hotel where Glory had set up shop.
Buffy was surprised when she saw what beautiful lodgings her nemesis had commandeered. Subterranean caverns and burnt out buildings seemed to house her adversaries more often than not. Then she entered the hotel and found that, though sumptuously decorated, it was deserted - up for sale evidently - which would explain why Glory's disfigured servants could come and go without question.
Buffy, Xander and Giles barely had time to scan the lobby before a contingent of Glory's minions rushed them. Although small, they were wiry and seemed to be everywhere at once like a gang of sewer rats. A pair of them had Giles backed to the wall, swinging his sword to keep them at bay. Xander lost his weapon almost immediately when one of the creatures delivered a sharp blow to his wrist that forced him to drop the axe and sent it sliding across the floor. He dove for it and was knocked flat and straddled by his foe. The rest of the servants went straight for Buffy, keeping prudently out of her range as she spun and kicked, ducked and lunged, parried and thrusted like a dervish.
********
Spike's eyes were now so swollen he could barely make out the shape of his tormentor as she drew back her hand for another blow.
"Talk, you melatonin-deficient slug! I know you know! So tell me. WHERE - IS - MY - KEY?"
Suddenly the punches that punctuated each word stopped. Curious, Spike managed to force his right eye open and was amazed and amused to see Glory's features skewing and rippling like an oil slick of colors as she morphed into another form. Her curly blond hair shortened to floppy brown locks. The very bone structure of her face and body audibly crackled as it shifted and the flesh made yummy slushy sounds that made Spike's mouth water.
The god's mouth fell open and she moaned, "No! No! Nooooo!" Then, as quickly as Spike himself was able to vamp out, Glory turned into a man. A dark-haired bloke still wearing the skank's strapless red dress stood there blinking, looking like a very ugly drag queen suddenly thrust on stage in the middle of the big finale. Despite his pain, Spike snorted with laughter.
The guy focused on the chained vampire and groaned in dismay. "What have you done now, you insane bitch?" He reached a tentative hand toward his victim. "I am SO sorry." He looked around for a key to unlock the manacles and spied a couple of the minions sneaking from the room. "What is going on here? Who is this guy and what was Glory doing with him?"
The robed servant put his hands together and inclined his head. "The superlative, stupendous Glorificus has been questioning this humble being about the whereabouts of her Key, O Gentle Ben."
Glory's alter-ego was already unlocking Spike's shackles as he listened to the explanation. The moment he was free, Spike stumbled on his weakened legs. He regained his balance, then quickly wrapped the chain around the young man's neck and began to strangle him. Almost instantly the chip fired. Pain that dwarfed all of Glory's torture strobed through his brain. The bitch's counterpart was human?! How was that possible?
Ben tore the chain from his throat and whirled around to face Spike, hands held up placatingly.
"Listen. I know you're upset. And I'd love to be able to explain this, but...." He shrugged. "Why don't you just go on home and try to get over it? In about a minute, you'll forget you even saw what you, uh, thought you saw."
"Sir," Jinx protested. "This lowly one has information critical to our splendiferous...."
"Didn't I stab you once?" Ben interrupted, rounding on the little man. "How could you possibly imagine I would do anything to help her?"
"You must bow to the inevitable, your lordship. Our munificent and praiseworthy Lady will find her Key and the portal to her dimension will be opened. Then we will all return home to our.ah.haphazard world of chaos and disharmony for ever and ever..."
"In Glorificus we trust!" the other minions intoned solemnly.
"And I wink out of existence!" the young man exploded. "Not on your little scaly life! Not if there's any way I can stop it. I'll turn the Key over to the Knights of Byzantium personally or dispose of it myself if I have to!! Glory is not going to ruin my life!"
Spike took the opportunity to stagger out of the room before the annoying little zealots or the Good Twin could gather their wits. He lurched down the hall toward the elevator doors, pried them open and tumbled down the shaft to land on top of the compartment with a thud. Opening the grille in the ceiling of the lift, he dropped through to the floor only to feel the elevator begin to reascend toward the level he had just escaped.
"Bugger!" Spike scrambled for the emergency button, stopping the compartment between floors. Using his bare hands, he crow-barred the doors open with all the strength left in his battered and abused body. He tumbled down once more, this time to the lobby floor.
He was stunned to find himself witness to a full-out battle between the minions and Buffy's Avengers. Giles crossed the lobby floor right in front of him, hacking and slashing with his battered blade as he pressed his foes toward the stairs. Harris had one of the opponents in a headlock and was ramming him repeatedly into the front desk, scarring the beautiful mahogany finish. And Buffy..
Spike's heart swelled as he feasted on the glorious sight of the Slayer, teeth bared, grunting in that sexy way she had with each punch and kick, pummeling through several of the dwarfish lackeys. Methodical yet ferocious, she was a killing machine and he loved her more than ever. It was a bloody rescue party! She had come for him!
One of the minions was cast his way and sprawled across him. Spike slipped into game face and tore into his jugular, slurping up the life-giving liquid. Rowr!!! He was starving. Even demon blood tasted good tonight.
Giles and Xander forced the last two adversaries into retreating up the stairs. Buffy, grimacing in disgust when she saw the vampire feasting on Glory's minion, hauled Spike up by one arm.
"Come on!" she shouted to her companions, who needed no more prompting to follow her and Spike as they burst through the lobby doors into the cool night.
"You...you came for me," Spike panted as she hustled him along. He stumbled and she took his dead weight when he started to slip to the ground.
"Xander, help me!" she commanded as she tried to right Spike. Xander rolled his eyes but complied, hauling the vampire's arm around his shoulders. Supported between them, Spike focused all his concentration on putting one foot in front of the other.
"To my flat," Giles said decisively. "Glory probably knows where all of us reside by now but it may take her longer to find us there."
The pink light of early morning was already suffusing the sky when they arrived at the Watcher's home, a place Spike had never dreamed he would be so grateful to see again. They entered and were instantly surrounded by a flock of clucking, nurturing females - brewing tea, fetching blankets, fluffing pillows and administering bandages and aspirin.
Spike was dragged to Giles' spare room and tucked into bed. He revelled in the womanly attention, which lasted just long enough for Tara and Willow to bind his wounds and Dawn to serve him a nicely warmed bloodpack before Buffy shut it down by shooing everyone else from the room and closing the door. She turned to him, arms folded, and regarded him with a long, searching stare.
"What?" he mumbled through his dislocated jaw.
"How much did she get out of you?"
"Nothing!!" Spike was deeply offended. He struggled to sit up.
"Glory tortured you for, what, five or six hours and you told her nothing?" Buffy sounded incredulous.
"God's sake, Slayer, you asked me to look after your little sis. Why'd you do it if you don't trust me?" He sank back into the pillows with a disgusted sigh.
Buffy watched him a moment longer, then stepped to the bedside and brushed her fingers through his tousled curls once. "All right," she assented quietly. "Sorry. You did good, Spike." She rested her hand fleetingly on the side of his swollen face, then pulled back and prepared to leave. "Uh, get some sleep now."
His eyes were already closed before she turned away.
Buffy was halfway through the door when Spike's gravelly voice called her back. "Almos' forgot. Somethin' you should know...'bout the bitch."
"Yeah?"
"She turns into someone else...a human. Bloke named Ben. I think you could get to her then...." he mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.
For an instant Buffy's eyes widened in amazement and she opened her mouth to ask a question, then a blank look came over her face. She shook her head as if to clear it as circuits in her brain blew the information right back out again. She closed the door behind her, and Spike slept.
**********
The next morning, or actually afternoon for the Scoobies who had slept the day away, Buffy woke when an arm smacked across her face. She pushed it away irritably, and its owner grunted and rolled over. Her back ached abominably from lying on a thin quilt over a hardwood floor with...she dug under herself and came out with a beaded, macramé purse...Dawn's purse digging into her. And the delicate whistle of Tara snoring hadn't been exactly conducive to a good day's sleep.
Buffy sat up, stretching and yawning, and looked over her sleeping comrades. Anya and Xander were curled around each other like a yin and yang symbol. Lucky them. Ditto Willow, whose arm had just whapped her in the face, and Tara. Willow was spooned around her lover's back, nuzzling her neck even in their sleep. Dawn was sacked out as if she were in her bed at home. She had been given the couch and was sprawled all over it, arms and legs jutting out at impossible angles.
Buffy rotated her neck to release the crick in it, and wished she'd accepted Giles' offer to use his bed. The younger people had all insisted that a slumber party on the living room floor was no problem and that his old bones needed the rest more. She glanced upstairs and thought about the occupant of the other small bedroom. Even Xander hadn't quibbled about letting Spike rest in comfort after the beating the vampire had received from Glory. Buffy wondered how he was doing. Then she wondered why he'd done it. What had made this perverse creature remain loyal as a hell-god beat him to a bloody pulp? Well, the answer was in the question she decided. Sheer perversity. Spike didn't like anyone telling him what to do. That had to be it.
She rolled her shoulders once and started to rise to her feet. Instantly a wave of nausea rushed over her. She took a deep breath, waiting for her stomach to settle, and tottered into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. As she popped the packet into the coffee-maker and filled the carafe, Buffy began her daily task: worrying. "It's what I do best these days," she murmured aloud. "Pretty soon they'll be calling me 'The Chosen One - Worrier of the People'."
Rummaging in Giles' cupboards, she located some bizarre kind of British crackers and wondered why the man couldn't eat Saltines like everyone else. How many years had he been in the U.S. now? She opened the bag, sniffed at the cracker she extracted, then began nibbling it. Her stomach started to settle.
This nausea was not a good sign. Not at all. Everyone knows when someone coughs at the beginning of a movie they're going to die by the final frame, and if a woman is shown throwing up in the morning, well.... But it couldn't be possible, could it? Not on top of everything else. Hadn't she worked in the service of Good, protecting humanity for most her young life. Wasn't it time for the higher powers to cut her some slack? "Please god, no," she prayed silently.
Buffy was an expert at living in the land of denial but even she had her limits and her inner voice told her that today she must quit stalling around and buy the damn test. At least knowing would be better than this awful wondering.
"Good morning, Buffy." Giles' unexpected voice made her drop the box of crackers on the floor. She spun around.
"Jeez! Don't sneak up like that!" she complained , bending to retrieve the box.
He frowned at her quizzically.
"Sorry," she amended, a bright smile flashing across her face. "My bad. I'm not a morning person. Not even at..." she looked at the kitchen clock, "2:30 in the afternoon."
"That's quite alright. Did you find something to eat? I believe I have a box of cereal in the pantry..."
"I'm good," Buffy assured him. "Got my crackers and hey, English guy's actually got a coffee maker in addition to the tea kettle!" She gestured to the percolating brew.
Giles began to lay out fruit and various juices from the refrigerator for his guests. Buffy continued to chew her crackers thoughtfully while she watched him.
"So," she began, "how's Spike this morning? Did you take a look?"
"Yes. Yes. He appears quite...like he's been run over by a truck rather than a steamroller today. Quite an improvement." He handed her a blood pack from the fridge. "If you don't mind..."
"Sure." Buffy made a moue of distaste as she cut the bag and glopped the cold liquid into a mug, then set the mug in the microwave.
"Buffy," Giles continued. "I know you told us that Spike has sworn he didn't betray Dawn to Glory, but do you really think it's wise to trust him? Spike hasn't exactly been known for his veracity in the past."
"I know his track record, Giles. I lived it, remember? But we don't have a lot of choice. Maybe it was stupid of me to entrust Dawn to him. I don't know. I just couldn't think of anyone else strong enough to protect her. And now, well if he's lying then Glory may be storming over here to get Dawn as we speak, but if he isn't then maybe we're safe - for just a little longer."
Giles met her eyes, nodded, and returned to paring an apple while Buffy bore the now steaming cup of blood up to their patient.
She knocked softly on the door to the guest room, then realized how ridiculous that was given the circumstances and entered slowly, balancing the overly full mug. Spike was still sound asleep, so Buffy crossed to the nightstand where she deposited his breakfast.
It was strange watching him sleep. Without breath causing his chest to rise and fall he should have looked dead, which of course he was, but she could see his eyes moving rapidly behind puffy, closed lids and occasionally a muscle would twitch or a limb move involuntarily. He didn't look morbid at all. He looked like Spike asleep.
She ran a practiced eye over his injuries. The dark bruises marring his pale skin would fade; the cuts heal seamlessly. It was the broken bones that worried her. Without a doctor to set them properly would they grow back together like a poorly put together jigsaw puzzle? She was sure his ribs were cracked, and one leg had seemed almost useless when they tried to walk him here yesterday. But Glory had done the most damage to his beautiful face and it was a crime to let a smashed cheek or jawbone mar his perfection.
Buffy mentally spanked herself for dwelling on his looks. He'd heal up one way or the other, and what did it matter as long as he was still functioning and useful? Again the very obvious question of why he was being useful to her reared its ugly head and again Buffy bashed it down.
She debated whether to wake him and offer him food or let him sleep some more, but she knew vampires healed faster the more blood they ingested so she leaned over to gently poke his arm.
"Wakey wakey, Spike. Breakfast," she sing-songed.
"I AM awake," he mumbled. "Can't open m'fuckin' eyes."
"Oh." Buffy was taken aback. "Do you.do you need a cold compress or something to take the swelling down? Maybe some aspirin?"
"No. Just feed me," he rasped, wildly reaching out and almost knocking the mug off the table.
"Okay. Chill. Let me get you set up here." She went around to the other side of the bed, plumped the pillows and lifted the patient to a sitting position, then she reached across him and retrieved the blood. "Now be careful. It's really full and kind of hot." She guided it to his lips and he cursed when the liquid burned them.
"How long d'you leave it in?" he complained.
"Sorry I'm not an expert at vampire cuisine," she snapped. He was still frowning like a pouty baby, so she sighed, blew on the already lukewarm blood and offered the mug again. Judging it acceptable, he began sucking it down awkwardly through his torn and swollen lips.
"So what did you think of Glory," Buffy asked after a minute of listening to his slurping. "Did you notice anything that could be useful to us? Any signs of weakness or ways to get at her through the minions? Any easy ways in and out of the building so we could sneak in and go through her things? Tell me exactly what happened the whole time she had you. There may be something you don't think is important that could prove crucial."
Spike frowned again. "Didn't I tell you last night? Yeah, I found out something all right. Glory changes into human form. Think you could take care of her then. No godlike powers an' such."
"Glory changes.." Buffy trailed off. "Well how do you know she becomes human? What does she look like? Maybe we could capture and cage her some way.?"
"Or kill him," Spike said.
"Kill who?"
"She changes into a man, a dark-haired fellow, 'bout six-foot, square-jawed type. I could point him out to you but I can't do the job myself. His name was Brian.no, Ben.that's it."
Spike peered through slitted eyes at the fuzzy image of Buffy looming over him looking increasingly excited. When he mentioned the name Ben, however, she froze for a second then resumed the conversation as if she'd missed half of it.
"So you're saying Glory takes on another form. Maybe we could find out what she changes into and kill it."
"Uh. Yeah. That's what I'm sayin'." The effort to talk was making his jaw hurt and trying to decipher Buffy's strange attitude was making his head ache. "And I'm pretty sure I said it last night too. We just have to find this Ben guy and."
"Ben? I know a Ben. He's an intern at the hospital. He's a real sweet guy. You know him?"
"Met him yesterday," Spike said dryly. "Lovely fellow. Look, are you off your nut or what? I'm telling you that Glory is Ben and Ben's Glory."
As if she hadn't heard him, Buffy plowed on, "What brought him up anyway? I thought you were going to tell me something about Glory."
Spike stared at her for a moment then said quietly, "I think I need to rest now." He slouched down in the bed pulling his pillow with him, and closed his eyes. "Check back with me at lunch time. Maybe I'll have more information for you then."
"Come on Spike. Quit playing around," Buffy protested. "We are all seriously in trouble, even vampires, if we don't do something about this evil bitch. I don't know what her exact plans are but world domination is a safe bet."
"Oh!" Spike squinted up at her. "That's right! I almost forgot. The Key. It's to open a portal back to her home dimension." He laughed harshly. "That's all she's here for - dizzy bint lost the key to her front door!"
"Well.that can't be good," Buffy said thoughtfully. "How exactly will she 'use' Dawn? And if this portal is opened wouldn't things from her world be able to come here?"
"Stands to reason," Spike agreed. He handed her his nearly empty mug in which the pig's blood was now congealing. "As for how she will use your girl, I'll wager blood. It's always the blood. Carries the essence of what a being is, you know."
Buffy stared down at the mug in her hands. Suddenly one hand flew to her lips and her throat worked convulsively as she tried not to retch.
"Come now. Did my breakfast offend your delicate sensibilities, love?" Spike watched her fight her nausea and wondered what was up with the girl. Considering all the pressure she was under it was not surprising she might have stomach problems, but there was something else.something different he couldn't quite put his finger on. He would have to think about it when his head didn't hurt so much.
"I'm fine!" she snapped when she was able to talk again. "A little stomach flu, that's all." She rose and prepared to sweep from the room and then stopped, one hand absently smoothing the blanket at the foot of the bed. "I almost forgot."
She stood there so long Spike became impatient and prodded, "Ye-es?"
"Dawn wanted.and I.well, we both wanted...to thank you for, you know, what you did yesterday. It was." She slowly lifted her eyes from her fidgeting hand to his face. "It was a..heroic..thing. Thank you."
Spike's eyes shifted to the side and he was suddenly intent on examining the lamp on the bedside table, but a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Well don't make too much of it," he cautioned gruffly. "I just didn't like that pushy bitch trying to force me to talk. Stubbornness, that's what it was."
"Force you? Since when does anyone have to force you to talk, Spike?" Buffy lightly teased. "But the stubbornness? That I'll believe." She smiled at him - one of those full-on, 1,000 watt, California girl smiles that melted his core - and walked quickly from the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
******* "Holy fuck! What a stunner!" he muttered to himself as he stared at the closed door. That smile? It was an illustrated reminder of why he'd suffered through torture at Glory's hands. Oh yeah, he'd do it again for one of those.
Spike thought about Glory's Achilles heel. What would he do if he were an all-powerful god whose weakness was human mortality while in human form? Hide the weakness, of course. Seems vampires were immune to whatever mojo she cast, but if he spoke to any of the others he'd probably get the same reaction as Buffy had given him - an obtuse refusal to see what was right before their eyes. Typical.
He supposed it was just as well the humans couldn't wrap their minds around the Glory-Ben equation. Knowing Buffy the need to sacrifice one to save many would be unpalatable. She would be helpless to kill the man that hid the monster. Spike would have to take care of the matter himself. Maybe not personally, but he knew a guy..
********
After a day with the gang spent hashing and rehashing Spike's information about the Key and the fact that Glory changed into another form of some type, Buffy finally managed to find time alone late in the evening to patrol, pick up blood for the invalid vampire and check on her house. She also stopped and bought the item she now held in her shaking hands as she sat on the toilet seat in her mother's bathroom. Would it always be 'mom's bedroom', 'mom's bath' she wondered?
She stared at the incriminating evidence she held, waiting for it to turn another color, maybe a nice magenta or a subtle peach. Even olive green would be lovely right now. But the little stick remained a bright, cheerful baby blue.
"Riley, you're going to be a daddy," she murmured.
To be continued..