A/N: Thanks for all your reviews! Hope you like the new chapter.
********** Trapped. That's what she was. Fire was burning all around her, keeping her prisoner in its whirlwind of destruction. She could hear it laughing, taunting her as she ran, trying to find a way out.
The flames danced around her teasingly, watching. It had so many eyes glaring at her, rolling and writhing, never looking at one spot for more than a second as it searched for. . . what? They all fixed their gaze on her and, as one, let out a blood-curdling shriek, causing her to stumble backwards into the very heart of the fire.
It held her steady, licking up and down her arms as He approached. A shadow, darker than the blackness of the night, circling the flames, just out of reach of the light. It wasn't darkness, it was darker than that - it was emptiness, a shape of absolute nothingness which chilled her to the bone. It prowled towards her, and stopped, just out of sight, so that all she could see were two burning eyes. . .
*******
Buffy awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. What was that? She knew she'd had a nightmare, not exactly a rare occurrence for a Slayer, but this had been different, primal somehow. She frowned, trying to remember the details, but it was no good. They were slipping out of her mind like sand from an hourglass, each grain of detail vanishing before she could catch it with her fingertips. There had been fire involved, she knew that. And. . . eyes? She thought harder, trying to remember something, anything, else.
There had been a creature, she realised. Something. . . ferocious and deadly. What had it looked like? She didn't think she had got a good look at it, but she couldn't be sure. All she remembered were eyes, and the feeling she had gotten when she saw them - one of pure terror. She shuddered.
*A drink of water's all I need,* she thought decidedly. *I'm just all dehydratey. It was just some stupid thing my brain came up with. No big.*
She slipped her feet out from under the covers, and touched them down gently on the floor. That was when she realised something was wrong. Where there should have been soft, fluffy carpet, there was cold, hard earth. She pulled her feet back quickly, recoiling from the harshness of the floor, then reached out to turn her lamp on.
The lamp wasn't there either. In fact, her bedside table wasn't there. She reached out further, groping about, trying to find it. It just wasn't there. She made one more stretch, thinking maybe for some reason it had been moved further out, lost her balance and tumbled to the floor with a shriek.
From somewhere up above her, she heard a voice. "Slayer? Are you alright?"
Buffy groaned. Now she knew where she was. She was at Spike's. She'd forgotten all about that, what with the nightmare and all. Realising he was waiting for an answer, she yelled back, "I'm fine, Spike!"
Too late. He had decided to come investigate. She couldn't see him, but she could sense his presence a few feet away. She was glad it was so dark. She really didn't want Spike to see her in a heap on the floor.
"What the hell were you doing down there?"
*How did he know?* she thought glumly. Then she remembered. Vampires could see in the dark. Damn it!
"I fell out of bed," she eventually mumbled, blushing deeply as she scrambled to her feet.
"Well, luv, it was you who insisted you took the bed. If you wanted to sleep on the floor you should have said. That way I could've got some."
Buffy felt a strong desire to hit him, but it seemed like too much effort, so she settled for glaring at him instead. At least he wasn't making fun of the fact she had fallen out of bed. Yet.
She felt it coming before he even opened his mouth; that snide comment which would cut deep, ridiculing everything she knew and making her feel so small and useless. She wasn't going to give him a chance though. Before he could say anything, she stumbled over to him.
"You're gonna have to show me the way out," she said. "I can't see a thing and I don't feel like sleeping any more." She grabbed his arm, and held onto it pointedly.
Spike sighed. To Buffy it sounded like a sigh of exasperation, but it was far from it. Buffy was standing so close to him it was unbelievable. He was in heaven. Trying to prolong the moment as much as possible, he took her the long way around, weaving past every object he could find as he led her to the ladder. Eventually, he had to stop.
"The ladder's in front of your face, pet," he said, taking her hand and placing it firmly on one of the rungs. After a moment, she shakily started to climb it, and soon both Slayer and vampire were on the upper floor. That was when Spike noticed what she was wearing.
"Nice pyjamas, Slayer," he said cockily, looking her up and down. He didn't know whether it was conscious or not, but she must have chosen to wear the sexiest pyjamas she owned. A tight purple tank top, which left little to the imagination, matched with a pair of teeny purple hot pants. Okay, so the large sheep on the front was sickeningly cute, but apart from that, it was definitely the best thing he'd ever seen her in.
Buffy blushed as she realised just what she was wearing. The terror of the nightmare, followed by the exasperation of waking up here, had made her forget to grab her bath robe in her rush to get out of the dark.
Trying to stay calm, and ignore the hungry look Spike was giving her, she said, "Spike, would you go down and get my bath robe for me?"
Spike was taken aback. Had she actually asked him to do it? *Nicely*?! All he ever got off her were orders and insults. It was nice being treated like a human being for once. He was tempted to do what she wanted, he really was. However. . . if he fetched that robe then she'd cover herself up and he'd have no further chance to watch her like this. He weighed up the two options. Please Buffy, or please himself. It was close, it really was, but he decided he'd rather satisfy himself.
"Sorry, luv, but I'm not going back down there again. Dawson's Creek is about to start."
"Spike," she said slowly, as if talking to a very small child. "It's two in the morning. It's very unlikely Dawson's Creek is on."
He marched over to the TV and grabbed a video from the side with a grin. "I have the boxset. At my crypt, it's always on."
Buffy groaned as he settled himself in his chair. There was no way this night could possibly get any worse. She was powerless, stuck in Spike's crypt for protection, she'd had the mother of all nightmares, she was absolutely frozen and now she was going to have to sit through four solid hours of teen soap opera.
Deciding she'd rather stay up here with Spike than go back into the dark tunnels below to have another nightmare, she grabbed Spike's duster off the floor, wrapped it around herself for warmth, then wandered over to where he was sitting. Suddenly realising there wasn't a free chair, she briefly considered sitting on the floor, before settling on the arm of the chair instead.
Spike jumped slightly as she sat down. He'd been half expecting her to storm off back to bed, but not only had she decided to stay, she was actually going to watch TV with him. What were the odds of that happening? Then he noticed that she was wearing his duster. He bit back a grin as he saw just how much too big it was for her, then said, "Why are you wearing my coat, luv?"
"Cold," she muttered back, digging herself further into the leather. This was even better than before. Now he'd have Buffy scent in his coat where ever he went. He couldn't let Buffy know he was happy about this, though. He had to say something to convince her everything was normal.
"Well, I can think of a few things I could do to warm you up."
The innuendo was lost on Buffy, and she said innocently, "Yeah? Like what?"
"Well, if you don't want to sleep on that bed, I'm certain we came come up with some other uses for it."
Buffy let out an indignant squeak. "You're a pig, Spike."
Spike was shocked that he hadn't ended up with a broken nose for that one, but then he remembered; Buffy didn't have the strength to break his nose. He could say or do anything, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. That knowledge gave him a feeling of great power. He wasn't going to do anything to hurt her, but just knowing that he *could* made him feel happier than he should have liked.
*******
They had watched a couple of hours of TV before Buffy moved again. She hated to admit it, but she'd had what passed for fun with Spike the last few hours. She'd enjoyed sitting there, curled up in his duster, listening to him explain who everyone was and what was going on. Okay, so the show hadn't been particularly good, but just listening to Spike's voice had comforted her, calming her jumpy nerves and convincing her that that dream had just been a dream. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.
Now that she wasn't worried, though, she was hyped. She had lots of pent up energy, and what she really needed was a good slay to get it all out. So what if she didn't have her powers? She'd been doing this for nearly six years. She surely had enough technique now that she could beat a couple of vamps by herself. She'd just go out, kill something, get it out of her system, then come back and get some sleep before sunrise.
She got to her feet, and headed for the door. She was only halfway there when a strong arm grabbed her.
"Where are you going, pet?"
"I'm just going to patrol for a bit," she said matter of factly.
"In your pyjamas?"
Buffy had forgotten about that detail, but she tried to pretend she hadn't. "So? I'm only going to do a quick sweep. No one's going to see me."
"Your little Scooby Gang patrolled tonight," Spike pointed out.
"Yeah, but they're bound to have missed at least one."
"You can't go out," he said firmly. "You're weak."
"You can't stop me!"
"I can," he said, and with that he grabbed her around the waist and carried her kicking and screaming across the room. "You can't go patrolling by yourself, in your pyjamas, without any power."
Carefully, he hoisted her down the ladder into the underground tunnels, lit a wall sconce, then unceremoniously plonked her down on the bed.
She tried to get up again, but he held her back down. "You want me to tie you up?" he asked, glancing towards the chains on the wall. "'Cause I gotta tell you, I got all the right stuff down here, and if you keep struggling, I might just use it."
Buffy stopped wriggling then, but pouted, kicking her legs on the bed. "It's not fair. Why can't I just go out?"
"Look, I know how you're feeling, luv," Spike said carefully. "I've been through this myself, remember? You want to go out and have a good scrap, but you can't. It's frustrating, innit? But you can't. Not 'til you're better at least. Then you can kill as many vamps as you want."
Buffy nodded slowly. "Okay," she said finally. "But if you make me watch that crap again you'll be the first one I go after."
"Fine by me, luv," he replied with a grin.
*******
Willow poured over what seemed like the hundredth book that night, unsettling piles of dust as she turned the pages. How was it that they could have so many books, yet they only ever found what they wanted in the last one they picked up? She sighed, and continued scanning the pages, looking for anything that could help Buffy. She mentally ticked off the subject of each page as she went through, feeling sure soon she'd have found everything. Flower demons, hell hounds, specialised vampire breeding grounds, some guy called Igniato, musical demons. . . wait a minute. What was that last one?
"Guys!" she said excitedly. "Guys, I think I've found something!"
Everyone looked up, including Anya, who'd been not so discreetly snoring on Xander's shoulder for the last half an hour.
"What is it, sweetie?" Tara asked.
"I found him! I found this Igniato guy!"
"Well, what does it say about him?"
"Well, for starters, he's old."
"How old?"
"Way old. Like, beginning of time old."
Xander blanched. "So, I guess we're gonna have a major fight on our hands to beat him."
"No!" Willow said excitedly. "Here's the thing: he's not some superpowerful demon guy. He was created by one of the Old Ones as a kind of minion. He had lots of power, but it was all borrowed from his master."
"Master? You mean we're dealing with something else as well?"
"No. It says that here that Igniato was fascinated by power. He loved it, and wanted more than anything to have all the power in the world. He became so power-mad that his master took it all away, leaving him with only fancy party tricks; shape shifting, telepathy, stuff which looks fancy, but isn't all that useful. Apparently, this loss drove Igniato crazy, and he started helping other demons for a bit of their power. He couldn't use the power, but he collected it, keeping it in jars to make him feel that he had all the power in the world at his fingertips."
"So, we're safe to assume that he's not actually using Buffy's power, merely storing it," Giles said thoughtfully. "And if he's as weak as you say he is, it should be easy to get it back. All we need to know is where he is and how to kill him."
"Woah there, British man," Xander said. "You may be ready to go running in, guns ablazing, but I'd rather find out what happened to this master guy."
"He vanished," Willow supplied, scanning the page for more information. "Assumedly, he was killed along with all the other Old Ones in the great battles. I think we're safe to say he's not going to be a problem."
*******
"It is done."
Igniato smiled. It had been easy to capture this demon and convince him to do the spell for him. He wished he could perform it himself, but it was not to be. He nodded at the demon, hoping he looked grateful.
"Thank you. You have no idea how helpful you've been."
The demon gave him a toothy grin. "Hey, anything to help bring down the Slayer!"
"Indeed." Before the demon knew what was happening, Igniato pulled a dagger out from behind him and stabbed it in the head. He was grateful for the spell, he really was, but it wouldn't do to have him going out, telling everyone what was going on. That really wouldn't do at all.
He cleaned the blade on the demon's robe, then carefully pulled a glass bottle out of his bag, and held it to the wound. He felt a surge of power as the demon's very essence slid into it, then screwed the lid tight. He didn't have any of this particular energy, and it would go nicely with the rest of his collection. He pocketed it, then set off through the wood.
He sensed it before he saw it. He knew he was lurking out there, just out of sight. Then, he saw two eyes, red and orange like fire, burning from the shadows.
"Master," Igniato said as he approached the beast. "I have good news. . ."
**********
A/N: Please review!
********** Trapped. That's what she was. Fire was burning all around her, keeping her prisoner in its whirlwind of destruction. She could hear it laughing, taunting her as she ran, trying to find a way out.
The flames danced around her teasingly, watching. It had so many eyes glaring at her, rolling and writhing, never looking at one spot for more than a second as it searched for. . . what? They all fixed their gaze on her and, as one, let out a blood-curdling shriek, causing her to stumble backwards into the very heart of the fire.
It held her steady, licking up and down her arms as He approached. A shadow, darker than the blackness of the night, circling the flames, just out of reach of the light. It wasn't darkness, it was darker than that - it was emptiness, a shape of absolute nothingness which chilled her to the bone. It prowled towards her, and stopped, just out of sight, so that all she could see were two burning eyes. . .
*******
Buffy awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. What was that? She knew she'd had a nightmare, not exactly a rare occurrence for a Slayer, but this had been different, primal somehow. She frowned, trying to remember the details, but it was no good. They were slipping out of her mind like sand from an hourglass, each grain of detail vanishing before she could catch it with her fingertips. There had been fire involved, she knew that. And. . . eyes? She thought harder, trying to remember something, anything, else.
There had been a creature, she realised. Something. . . ferocious and deadly. What had it looked like? She didn't think she had got a good look at it, but she couldn't be sure. All she remembered were eyes, and the feeling she had gotten when she saw them - one of pure terror. She shuddered.
*A drink of water's all I need,* she thought decidedly. *I'm just all dehydratey. It was just some stupid thing my brain came up with. No big.*
She slipped her feet out from under the covers, and touched them down gently on the floor. That was when she realised something was wrong. Where there should have been soft, fluffy carpet, there was cold, hard earth. She pulled her feet back quickly, recoiling from the harshness of the floor, then reached out to turn her lamp on.
The lamp wasn't there either. In fact, her bedside table wasn't there. She reached out further, groping about, trying to find it. It just wasn't there. She made one more stretch, thinking maybe for some reason it had been moved further out, lost her balance and tumbled to the floor with a shriek.
From somewhere up above her, she heard a voice. "Slayer? Are you alright?"
Buffy groaned. Now she knew where she was. She was at Spike's. She'd forgotten all about that, what with the nightmare and all. Realising he was waiting for an answer, she yelled back, "I'm fine, Spike!"
Too late. He had decided to come investigate. She couldn't see him, but she could sense his presence a few feet away. She was glad it was so dark. She really didn't want Spike to see her in a heap on the floor.
"What the hell were you doing down there?"
*How did he know?* she thought glumly. Then she remembered. Vampires could see in the dark. Damn it!
"I fell out of bed," she eventually mumbled, blushing deeply as she scrambled to her feet.
"Well, luv, it was you who insisted you took the bed. If you wanted to sleep on the floor you should have said. That way I could've got some."
Buffy felt a strong desire to hit him, but it seemed like too much effort, so she settled for glaring at him instead. At least he wasn't making fun of the fact she had fallen out of bed. Yet.
She felt it coming before he even opened his mouth; that snide comment which would cut deep, ridiculing everything she knew and making her feel so small and useless. She wasn't going to give him a chance though. Before he could say anything, she stumbled over to him.
"You're gonna have to show me the way out," she said. "I can't see a thing and I don't feel like sleeping any more." She grabbed his arm, and held onto it pointedly.
Spike sighed. To Buffy it sounded like a sigh of exasperation, but it was far from it. Buffy was standing so close to him it was unbelievable. He was in heaven. Trying to prolong the moment as much as possible, he took her the long way around, weaving past every object he could find as he led her to the ladder. Eventually, he had to stop.
"The ladder's in front of your face, pet," he said, taking her hand and placing it firmly on one of the rungs. After a moment, she shakily started to climb it, and soon both Slayer and vampire were on the upper floor. That was when Spike noticed what she was wearing.
"Nice pyjamas, Slayer," he said cockily, looking her up and down. He didn't know whether it was conscious or not, but she must have chosen to wear the sexiest pyjamas she owned. A tight purple tank top, which left little to the imagination, matched with a pair of teeny purple hot pants. Okay, so the large sheep on the front was sickeningly cute, but apart from that, it was definitely the best thing he'd ever seen her in.
Buffy blushed as she realised just what she was wearing. The terror of the nightmare, followed by the exasperation of waking up here, had made her forget to grab her bath robe in her rush to get out of the dark.
Trying to stay calm, and ignore the hungry look Spike was giving her, she said, "Spike, would you go down and get my bath robe for me?"
Spike was taken aback. Had she actually asked him to do it? *Nicely*?! All he ever got off her were orders and insults. It was nice being treated like a human being for once. He was tempted to do what she wanted, he really was. However. . . if he fetched that robe then she'd cover herself up and he'd have no further chance to watch her like this. He weighed up the two options. Please Buffy, or please himself. It was close, it really was, but he decided he'd rather satisfy himself.
"Sorry, luv, but I'm not going back down there again. Dawson's Creek is about to start."
"Spike," she said slowly, as if talking to a very small child. "It's two in the morning. It's very unlikely Dawson's Creek is on."
He marched over to the TV and grabbed a video from the side with a grin. "I have the boxset. At my crypt, it's always on."
Buffy groaned as he settled himself in his chair. There was no way this night could possibly get any worse. She was powerless, stuck in Spike's crypt for protection, she'd had the mother of all nightmares, she was absolutely frozen and now she was going to have to sit through four solid hours of teen soap opera.
Deciding she'd rather stay up here with Spike than go back into the dark tunnels below to have another nightmare, she grabbed Spike's duster off the floor, wrapped it around herself for warmth, then wandered over to where he was sitting. Suddenly realising there wasn't a free chair, she briefly considered sitting on the floor, before settling on the arm of the chair instead.
Spike jumped slightly as she sat down. He'd been half expecting her to storm off back to bed, but not only had she decided to stay, she was actually going to watch TV with him. What were the odds of that happening? Then he noticed that she was wearing his duster. He bit back a grin as he saw just how much too big it was for her, then said, "Why are you wearing my coat, luv?"
"Cold," she muttered back, digging herself further into the leather. This was even better than before. Now he'd have Buffy scent in his coat where ever he went. He couldn't let Buffy know he was happy about this, though. He had to say something to convince her everything was normal.
"Well, I can think of a few things I could do to warm you up."
The innuendo was lost on Buffy, and she said innocently, "Yeah? Like what?"
"Well, if you don't want to sleep on that bed, I'm certain we came come up with some other uses for it."
Buffy let out an indignant squeak. "You're a pig, Spike."
Spike was shocked that he hadn't ended up with a broken nose for that one, but then he remembered; Buffy didn't have the strength to break his nose. He could say or do anything, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. That knowledge gave him a feeling of great power. He wasn't going to do anything to hurt her, but just knowing that he *could* made him feel happier than he should have liked.
*******
They had watched a couple of hours of TV before Buffy moved again. She hated to admit it, but she'd had what passed for fun with Spike the last few hours. She'd enjoyed sitting there, curled up in his duster, listening to him explain who everyone was and what was going on. Okay, so the show hadn't been particularly good, but just listening to Spike's voice had comforted her, calming her jumpy nerves and convincing her that that dream had just been a dream. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.
Now that she wasn't worried, though, she was hyped. She had lots of pent up energy, and what she really needed was a good slay to get it all out. So what if she didn't have her powers? She'd been doing this for nearly six years. She surely had enough technique now that she could beat a couple of vamps by herself. She'd just go out, kill something, get it out of her system, then come back and get some sleep before sunrise.
She got to her feet, and headed for the door. She was only halfway there when a strong arm grabbed her.
"Where are you going, pet?"
"I'm just going to patrol for a bit," she said matter of factly.
"In your pyjamas?"
Buffy had forgotten about that detail, but she tried to pretend she hadn't. "So? I'm only going to do a quick sweep. No one's going to see me."
"Your little Scooby Gang patrolled tonight," Spike pointed out.
"Yeah, but they're bound to have missed at least one."
"You can't go out," he said firmly. "You're weak."
"You can't stop me!"
"I can," he said, and with that he grabbed her around the waist and carried her kicking and screaming across the room. "You can't go patrolling by yourself, in your pyjamas, without any power."
Carefully, he hoisted her down the ladder into the underground tunnels, lit a wall sconce, then unceremoniously plonked her down on the bed.
She tried to get up again, but he held her back down. "You want me to tie you up?" he asked, glancing towards the chains on the wall. "'Cause I gotta tell you, I got all the right stuff down here, and if you keep struggling, I might just use it."
Buffy stopped wriggling then, but pouted, kicking her legs on the bed. "It's not fair. Why can't I just go out?"
"Look, I know how you're feeling, luv," Spike said carefully. "I've been through this myself, remember? You want to go out and have a good scrap, but you can't. It's frustrating, innit? But you can't. Not 'til you're better at least. Then you can kill as many vamps as you want."
Buffy nodded slowly. "Okay," she said finally. "But if you make me watch that crap again you'll be the first one I go after."
"Fine by me, luv," he replied with a grin.
*******
Willow poured over what seemed like the hundredth book that night, unsettling piles of dust as she turned the pages. How was it that they could have so many books, yet they only ever found what they wanted in the last one they picked up? She sighed, and continued scanning the pages, looking for anything that could help Buffy. She mentally ticked off the subject of each page as she went through, feeling sure soon she'd have found everything. Flower demons, hell hounds, specialised vampire breeding grounds, some guy called Igniato, musical demons. . . wait a minute. What was that last one?
"Guys!" she said excitedly. "Guys, I think I've found something!"
Everyone looked up, including Anya, who'd been not so discreetly snoring on Xander's shoulder for the last half an hour.
"What is it, sweetie?" Tara asked.
"I found him! I found this Igniato guy!"
"Well, what does it say about him?"
"Well, for starters, he's old."
"How old?"
"Way old. Like, beginning of time old."
Xander blanched. "So, I guess we're gonna have a major fight on our hands to beat him."
"No!" Willow said excitedly. "Here's the thing: he's not some superpowerful demon guy. He was created by one of the Old Ones as a kind of minion. He had lots of power, but it was all borrowed from his master."
"Master? You mean we're dealing with something else as well?"
"No. It says that here that Igniato was fascinated by power. He loved it, and wanted more than anything to have all the power in the world. He became so power-mad that his master took it all away, leaving him with only fancy party tricks; shape shifting, telepathy, stuff which looks fancy, but isn't all that useful. Apparently, this loss drove Igniato crazy, and he started helping other demons for a bit of their power. He couldn't use the power, but he collected it, keeping it in jars to make him feel that he had all the power in the world at his fingertips."
"So, we're safe to assume that he's not actually using Buffy's power, merely storing it," Giles said thoughtfully. "And if he's as weak as you say he is, it should be easy to get it back. All we need to know is where he is and how to kill him."
"Woah there, British man," Xander said. "You may be ready to go running in, guns ablazing, but I'd rather find out what happened to this master guy."
"He vanished," Willow supplied, scanning the page for more information. "Assumedly, he was killed along with all the other Old Ones in the great battles. I think we're safe to say he's not going to be a problem."
*******
"It is done."
Igniato smiled. It had been easy to capture this demon and convince him to do the spell for him. He wished he could perform it himself, but it was not to be. He nodded at the demon, hoping he looked grateful.
"Thank you. You have no idea how helpful you've been."
The demon gave him a toothy grin. "Hey, anything to help bring down the Slayer!"
"Indeed." Before the demon knew what was happening, Igniato pulled a dagger out from behind him and stabbed it in the head. He was grateful for the spell, he really was, but it wouldn't do to have him going out, telling everyone what was going on. That really wouldn't do at all.
He cleaned the blade on the demon's robe, then carefully pulled a glass bottle out of his bag, and held it to the wound. He felt a surge of power as the demon's very essence slid into it, then screwed the lid tight. He didn't have any of this particular energy, and it would go nicely with the rest of his collection. He pocketed it, then set off through the wood.
He sensed it before he saw it. He knew he was lurking out there, just out of sight. Then, he saw two eyes, red and orange like fire, burning from the shadows.
"Master," Igniato said as he approached the beast. "I have good news. . ."
**********
A/N: Please review!
