This is a chap-ter You read it. Then you know what you have to do. Yeah. You got it. Review. That strange word again.
Like the way I put words in your head? But you knew what I was getting at, so most likely you really were thinking about reviews. And if you weren't: duh.
Still working on "Of Blondes that Bite and Stab," but the stupid school system is totally not budging on the 'three~day weeks' concept. Hey, I tried. Grades come first. Sorry. Except Chemistry.
~Star Mouse
@ @ @
"Ahn?"
"Over here! Xander, you've got to see this!"
The founding Scoobie pushed his way through the crowds of Spanish-spouting locals, to where Anya's blonde hair stuck out like... ...neon in a void.
She was leaning on the guardrail, much less encumbered by souvenirs than he, because she handed everything she bought to him. She shot him a warm smile before turning her undivided attention back to the candle-lit arena. The street passed above, in a bridge that they were standing on, looking down at the opera.
Music like that of tortured weasels wafted up on the breeze.
"Oh, Xander, isn't it beautiful?"
He narrowed his eyes at the gaudy scene. Sad to say, he'd never seen that much red and gold outside a ritual bloodbath.
"Uh, yeah." Why didn't we go to Hawaii, again?
But everything was perfect, because Anya was here, and having a great time, and not wearing her 'special' necklace, and they were married, and happily ever after was sure to be just around the corner, and-- "Hey, watch where you're going!"
A few people that had pushed past him glared at him and muttered in Spanish. They moved on.
"Yeah, yeah, yo quiero Taco Bell, my ass..." He waved a hand and tried to turn back to the show. Anya's brow wrinkled.
"Xander, wait."
Xander raised an eyebrow, looked back in the crowd for the bumpers, turned back to his bride.
"Why? 'D they say something I need to beat them up for?"
She shrugged her head. "I guess. Roughly, 'Your blood isn't thick enough to suck. And ...other stuff.'" She narrowed her eyes.
Xander thought about beating his head against the stone waist~high guard wall. But he'd have to get on his knees. He sighed.
"You can take the Scoobies out of the Hellmouth--"
"I'm sure that's a very funny joke you're setting up, Xander," his new bride cut him off, "but we have to go find them and ask them questions."
Anya walked purposefully past him. Xander blinked for a second, then struggled after her, carting sombreros and other novelty items.
"Ahn! What's to question? Vampires. So?"
"So, the other one said something about catching a boat to California."
"Okay, so travelling vamps. Not so fun, but--"
"He said 'We'd better catch that boat before all the others get the good seats.'"
"You mean like for the opera back there--?"
"Xander! This is no time for opera!"
@ @ @
Spike watched the tiny blonde Slayer rise. She took her bloody time about it, too. Stretched her back out, rolled her neck, all the while gently smirking. He stood a ways away, waiting to see what this creature in Buffy's body would do.
Not-Buffy looked at him, and shrugged in a way eerily like the real Buffy.
"So. Big bad vampire has me trapped. You're going to beat me up?"
"'As the plan, lu-pe-Sla-you."
"Hph." She tossed Buffy's hair, and it took all of Spike's experience with demon possession to remember that this wasn't really Elizabeth Anne Summers.
The way she looked at him. He was so used to that look. Mocking, hard.
Albeit, not recently, so much. But still...
She sneered. And it was like looking in a mirror. A metaphorical one, for obvious reasons.
"I would love to see you try. You couldn't even beat me when you were 'invincible'." Air quotes. Damn.
"I fought Buffy. You're new," he replied.
Raised eyebrow. Buffy's raised eyebrow. Double damn.
"You really think I'm any different?" She laughed. And it was Buffy's laugh. "Spike, I'm free. That's all. You know better than anyone. You aren't really a demon, are you, Spike? You're still William. It's not like you woke up being hell~bent and possessed of the knowledge of ages. You just have an extra conscience. A ...an anti conscience. The one that doesn't mind a little fun."
"Get the hell out of her body," he said, quietly. It was all he could think of.
She just laughed again, and strode closer. "The thing is, Spike, I don't wanna."
She flashed one of those tiny, bright, super~grins Buffy sometimes gave the world as gifts.
"You're gonna have to make me."
And then Spike found out what it feels like to get clubbed in the face with a candlestick.
"Aw, shi--" Another. Damn. She was strong.
He fell back, stumbling down the one step, around a stone sarcophagus.
He could feel his cheekbone bruising. Bloody perfect--.
She came at him again. He tried to dodge, but she anticipated, catching him a jab under the chin, slamming his jaw shut and making him bite his own tongue.
Ah, hell, Spike. Fight back. It's not like you haven't bullied with the bitch before. Smashing her face in isn't a new thing.
No. But not wanting to is.
He looked up at -not-the Slayer, stalking towards him.
His eyes narrowed, and his chin went down. He spat blood.
So's the being asked to.
Spike took several running steps and kicked her in the chest, pulling the candlestick from her grip as he did so. He landed on top of her, straddling her about the stomach.
The hell~bitch thrashed wildly, slashing at his jeans with her fingernails, but she wasn' t doing much damage.
He brought the candlestick --nice, wrought iron-- down on a temple.
"Shit!" Buffy shook her head to clear it, and spat at him.
Spike dealt her a backhand across the face.
"You're not her," *slap* "you will pay for taking her," *slap* "and for her I will send you into traction."
Buffy jerked beneath him. She arched her back, trying to throw him off. But it was the slightly loopy smile that really threw him.
"If you want to beat me, vampire, you'll have to kill me."
Spike shoved her head down to the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
He growled.
"So be it."
Buffy's body lay still. He could feel her pulse, but it was weak. He wasn't sure what was normal for a living possession, though. He didn't move from his perch. He waited for her to wake.
And she did. With a sudden, nearly warningless lurch, Buffy bucked him off, hopped to her feet, kicked him in the gut with a pointy boot.
"You sonofabitch."
"Possibly."
She landed a few quick punches, but nothing major. She was hurt.
Good. He sneered.
Not-Buffy furrowed her brows.
"This is how you treat the woman you love?"
He vamped, growled, thrust himself off the wall.
"I--," he launched himself at her, quite literally going for the throat. She brushed his hands aside, and he landed a knee to her inner thigh.
"--Don't--," grabbed the sharpened bat from the corner, spun with it, landing a blow to her back. The not-Slayer 'ouf!'ed and went down, landing with less grace than a woman with two unfractured collarbones might.
"--Love her." for good measure, he sent a few sharp kicks to her middle, eliciting more noises. He swung the bat around on in his hand and brought it down full force on her shins, exposed in her fetal position.
There were muffled, splintering cracks.
And more, as he swung again.
And again.
And again.
And again. Until the battle red left his vision.
He shook off his demon visage, and tossed the bat away. It clanged on the stone before rolling to a stop.
He considered the broken, bleeding form lying in front of him, limbs twisted at odd angles, with more joints than before.
When the figure blurred, he realized he was crying.
"Bloody--" He wiped the tears away roughly, and reached for his cell phone.
Where? Oh yeah. Spike stepped over the pile of Buffy and to the chair his duster was hanging on. He rooted around in one of the deep pockets, and pulled out the pink phone. He pressed and held 6.
There was an electronic hum as the phone rang over the line, and then--
"Hello?"
"Rupert."
"Spike! Thank goodness. Buffy, she's-- I can't find her. Her phone's here, and I have no idea-- She's dangerous, Spike. We have to find her before she caves--"
"Enough, Watcher. I need you to answer a question for me."
"Spike, this really isn't--"
"I tell you bugger all until you answer me."
A slight pause, and then, "Very well."
"Do you think I would go scourge?"
"...Pardon?"
Spike turned around. "You came to my crypt, couple months ago, to tell me not to go evil if Buffy died. Do you really think I would. Answer."
Giles was silent for so long Spike honestly thought the connection had broken. Finally, the Watcher cum Bar~Tender cleared his throat into the phone.
"No, Spike, I don't. As much as I truly don't trust you, I trust in your connection with Dawn and Buffy. If either of them died, I honestly think you'd stick around to pick up the pieces, rather than blowing everything to bits."
Spike had to smile. Through tears, damn.
"Good. 'Cause, Watcher, I need you to call the hospital. What you're going to see will take a bit of explaining."
@ @ @
"...Multiple fractures, several cases of internal bleeding, not to mention the dislocated shoulder..."
Dawn's lip trembled as the doctor, a black woman with short short hair, listed the damage. She reached her hand out for Spike's.
The vampire gripped it, and pulled her closer with his other arm, grateful she didn't hate him for doing this.
"...amazing recovery, even this early. Blood loss shouldn't be a problem, it's a matter of healing enough that the body can support itself. Until then, we've got her in as many braces as we can, helping out a little."
Willow furrowed her brow. "She'll be okay?"
The doctor winced. "We can only hope. She's catatonic, but she's healing at an amazing rate. Strictly speaking, she could wake up at any time. But..."
Willow nodded, teary and resigned. "--The longer she's in it the less likely it is."
"I'm sorry. We'll just have to do the best we can and ...and pray."
"We will," Willow assured her. She looked at Marion, standing solemn beside her. The witch swallowed, and made a break for the door.
@ @ @
Birdie was in a green chair just outside the office, face in hands, elbows on knees. She hadn't been up to actually entering the office.
But when Willow burst through the door like the hounds of hell were after her, she looked up.
"Willow!"
The witch turned back.
Birdie bit her lip. She couldn't form the question. If she asked, the answer would be her fault.
Willow shook her head, knowing what she couldn't voice.
"Catatonic. Broken everything. I-- God, I need to get out of here."
Birdie stood quickly.
"Take me with you."
@ @ @
"Ahn, we aren't going to find them. It's a huge city. They could be anywhere."
"I'm not looking for them, Xander. I'm looking for boats."
"Boats," he repeated. "Well that shouldn't be too hard, on a port city."
"Shut up. This would be a very specific boat." Anya continued walking, faster in high heels than anyone had a right to be. She craned her long neck to see the piers.
"It'll be passenger. Few windows, probably. And, of course, lots of va--"
She bumped into someone.
Someone who hissed and bared teeth.
"--Vampires."
@ @ @
Giles stared through the reinforced glass at his Slayer. His daughter in more senses of the word than he had known existed. He let his hand trail down the window to his side.
She was in a bed hooked up to all sorts of things that went 'beep.' He wasn't sure if they were good beeps, but guessing not. IV's were plugged into her arms and disappeared into the sheet covering her, making her look like the machine.
That was it. The BuffyBot. This was a robot. It wasn't his Buffy, dying again before his eyes.
"Rupes."
He didn't turn his head. "She told you to do this?"
Spike came up to the glass and let his forehead bump against it.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Soddin' stupid martyr complex."
Giles forced a smile. "Nothing new there."
"Damn straight."
Giles sighed. He wiped a hand down his face, sweeping his glasses off in a sudden jerk.
"This thing has been harder on her than ..." he started, trying to describe to the vampire what he felt was really happening. "She fights her battles on the outside. All the demons we live with, the hauntings in our minds, are reall for her. Not just real but corporeal. She can face with brute strength. She can banish the beasts that plague her by literally distroying them. She needn't reach inside herself for that. She keeps her battles well away from her heart."
Spike listened silently, watching the immoble girl through the glass. Giles rested he eyes on her form as he continued, more quietly.
"The closest she ever really got to being ambushed from the inside was Angelus. That nearly ripped her apart. She ... She ran. The one time she ran away. She can't defend herself when she's stricken from the inside. She never learned how."
Spike looked up angry. "You think she's running now?"
Giles looked back at the little girl lying in a maze of wires and tubes, going beep.
"I don't know. But if she is, I think perhaps she will be hard to find."
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