'And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had'
They left her waiting for him in his office for a good half an hour before announcing his arrival. The General seemed infinitely more self-assured than he had in the cell the day before. A smug smile spread across his face as he eyed her, noting her recalcitrant posture as well as the quick gleam of defiance that sparked through her eyes. At the sound of his footsteps she straightened, her chin jutting forward proudly as her eyes narrowed. He nodded at her silent greeting, the smile fading from his face as he moved around to the other side of his desk, "Ah, Miss Summers. I trust you slept well?
Buffy let out an unladylike snort, her arms crossing as she watched MacGruder lean back carelessly in his seat. His eyes rested on her thoughtfully, his stony visage revealing nothing as he contemplated her. Buffy repressed the urge to fidget beneath his regard, her clear gaze meeting his confidently, "You could have observed me just as well from the cell."
MacGruder shrugged at her comment, "As pleasing as you are to look at Miss Summers, that's not why I called you in here. There are some matters we need to discuss."
Buffy leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, suspicion passing through her hazel eyes, "Going through a lot of trouble for conversation. You should get out of here more, meet some people of your own age," she made a face at the fluorescent lighting, "Not to mention that the lighting does nothing for a person's complexion."
His mouth thinned, "Finn did warn me that you were annoying." A pregnant pause filled the space once again as he flipped through the manila folder which sat squarely in the middle of his desk, "Among other things." He tossed the folder at her and she grabbed it, the wariness in her face tightening as she opened the folder. Her eyes widened as she recognized images of her and Spike in more than one compromising situation. A deep blush, due more to anger than shame, spread across her face, shoulders and neck and she slammed the folder shut quickly, "What do you want?"
"I'm here to make you an offer," MacGruder leaned forward his stone mask dropped, "The lives of your friends in exchange for yours."
Spike watched from beneath lowered lids as the young soldier observed him sleeping. It wasn't the first time that Spike had caught him watching him in the past forty-eight hours. It wasn't so much the observation that bothered him, once his relationship with the Slayer had been known many of the soldiers had come to gaze at the unsuited couple in shock, but the underlying sense that this particular soldier was looking for something more than a good time at the peep-show was unnerving.
Slowly, Spike opened his eyes halfway, allowing them to glint menacingly beneath the lighting, "It's not exactly necessary for you to be quite so bloody sedulous in your guard duties. It's not as if I can do much with this bloody chip in my head and the Slayer gone." The soldier's eyes widened and he took a step back before turning around and staring studiously at an unseen spot on the white wall.
Spike pushed himself halfway up onto his elbows, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The soldier, though aware of his regard, studiously ignored him. His smile grew wider as he sensed the soldier's unease growing, "Say, mate, don't suppose you could spare a smoke?"
The soldier stiffened before throwing him a carefully neutral glance, "There's no smoking allowed in the compound."
"Pity that," Spike's smile faded as he gracefully pushed himself up from the floor, "I'll just have to end my sojourn a bit earlier than expected, then."
The soldier stiffened and loosened his rifle, hanging it off of one shoulder as he eyed the vampire warily. His temerity shocked the soldier who had expected him to remain more quiescent after the other day's defeat. Instead, Hostile 17 gazed at him with ill-concealed belligerence, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he looped his hands in his belt and sauntered forwards toward the door. Despite the fear that gripped him, he managed to stand his ground as the vampire came as close to him as the door would allow. His heart beat wildly in his chest and at close range the chip seemed like poor protection.
As if he had read his mind, Spike's grin grew increasingly mordant, "How'd you like to help a fellow out?"
For one second fear gripped her as the General's words registered in her head, but the feeling was transient and quickly replaced by her anger, "You haven't got my friends."
"No," MacGruder accounted calmly, refusing to move back to his side of the desk despite the aura of violence that surrounded the Slayer, "But I have your lover."
Buffy barely managed to suppress a growl, her hazel eyes darkening ominously as she leaned closer to him, "You can't keep us here forever, someone is bound to notice."
He shrugged callously, "I could always kill you both and put an end to any speculation."
She stiffened, her hands tightening as she prepared to spring forward if he made any move towards her, "You could try."
MacGruder leaned back in his chair, smiling his noisome smile, "Even if you were to kill me Miss Summers, it is unlikely that you would make it to your lover before we had him terminated. Besides," his smile deepened, "like you Miss Summers, there will always be another, and another, and another to come take my place."
"You and I are nothing alike," Buffy stood, "what you are doing here is cruel! You're no better than the monsters you hunt."
"Spare me, Buffy," MacGruder's smile had vanished as he stared up at the petite figure, "You're not so different from the creatures you slay, either. You're just the different side of the same coin."
"You're wrong," she said woodenly, "I have a soul."
"Finally," his smile returned as he leaned forward, "we reach the topic I've brought you here to discuss."
Buffy frowned, confusion marring her face, "My soul? So what, the Vatican's employing you now to monitor the spiritual welfare of Sunnydale?"
"Not quite, Summers," MacGruder retrieved another manila envelope from his desk rawer and slid it forward on the desk, "Your genetic report. Needless to say you did not go quite completely undisturbed when you first arrived here. We weren't sure when we would have you cooperative again and it seemed pointless to pass up such a golden opportunity."
Buffy flipped open the folder, her eyes scanning the pages of computer readouts, "I hate science."
MacGruder smiled, "The scientific and the supernatural rarely accommodate each other, Miss Summers."
Buffy looked up from the folder, "So what, vampires would flunk chemistry also?"
He chuckled, "No, Miss Summers, what I mean is that what you're holding in your hand is the scientific proof of a genetic link between Slayer's and demons."
The soldier eyed him quietly, his brown gaze assessing the vampire carefully. Spike held his breath, sensing that whatever the soldier concluded about him would influence not only his fate but the fate of Buffy as well. Finally, the soldier's gaze lost it's intensity and he turned away from the vampire and back towards the blank white wall. Spike felt a swell of regret overtake him and was about to call the soldier back to him when the soldier's voice, low-itched and unsteady reached his ears, "How can you love her?"
Spike shrugged and leaned back against the white wall, "How does anybody love anyone, mate? There's no logical explanation for it; no hows and whys for you military, scientific types to analyze and break down into a chemical diagram or war plan. I love her in the same way any man loves a woman: completely and illogically."
The soldier turned back t him, confusion tearing across his face, his weapon lowered, "But you don't have a soul, you can't feel."
Spike snorted and pushed harshly away from the wall, "Rubbish. That's only a bedtime story they tell you to make you're job easer, so it's not people you're killing but demons, animals who are nothing like you. The truth, mate, is that we're a lot more alike than you'd like to think. The only difference is that we eat you."
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had'
They left her waiting for him in his office for a good half an hour before announcing his arrival. The General seemed infinitely more self-assured than he had in the cell the day before. A smug smile spread across his face as he eyed her, noting her recalcitrant posture as well as the quick gleam of defiance that sparked through her eyes. At the sound of his footsteps she straightened, her chin jutting forward proudly as her eyes narrowed. He nodded at her silent greeting, the smile fading from his face as he moved around to the other side of his desk, "Ah, Miss Summers. I trust you slept well?
Buffy let out an unladylike snort, her arms crossing as she watched MacGruder lean back carelessly in his seat. His eyes rested on her thoughtfully, his stony visage revealing nothing as he contemplated her. Buffy repressed the urge to fidget beneath his regard, her clear gaze meeting his confidently, "You could have observed me just as well from the cell."
MacGruder shrugged at her comment, "As pleasing as you are to look at Miss Summers, that's not why I called you in here. There are some matters we need to discuss."
Buffy leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, suspicion passing through her hazel eyes, "Going through a lot of trouble for conversation. You should get out of here more, meet some people of your own age," she made a face at the fluorescent lighting, "Not to mention that the lighting does nothing for a person's complexion."
His mouth thinned, "Finn did warn me that you were annoying." A pregnant pause filled the space once again as he flipped through the manila folder which sat squarely in the middle of his desk, "Among other things." He tossed the folder at her and she grabbed it, the wariness in her face tightening as she opened the folder. Her eyes widened as she recognized images of her and Spike in more than one compromising situation. A deep blush, due more to anger than shame, spread across her face, shoulders and neck and she slammed the folder shut quickly, "What do you want?"
"I'm here to make you an offer," MacGruder leaned forward his stone mask dropped, "The lives of your friends in exchange for yours."
Spike watched from beneath lowered lids as the young soldier observed him sleeping. It wasn't the first time that Spike had caught him watching him in the past forty-eight hours. It wasn't so much the observation that bothered him, once his relationship with the Slayer had been known many of the soldiers had come to gaze at the unsuited couple in shock, but the underlying sense that this particular soldier was looking for something more than a good time at the peep-show was unnerving.
Slowly, Spike opened his eyes halfway, allowing them to glint menacingly beneath the lighting, "It's not exactly necessary for you to be quite so bloody sedulous in your guard duties. It's not as if I can do much with this bloody chip in my head and the Slayer gone." The soldier's eyes widened and he took a step back before turning around and staring studiously at an unseen spot on the white wall.
Spike pushed himself halfway up onto his elbows, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The soldier, though aware of his regard, studiously ignored him. His smile grew wider as he sensed the soldier's unease growing, "Say, mate, don't suppose you could spare a smoke?"
The soldier stiffened before throwing him a carefully neutral glance, "There's no smoking allowed in the compound."
"Pity that," Spike's smile faded as he gracefully pushed himself up from the floor, "I'll just have to end my sojourn a bit earlier than expected, then."
The soldier stiffened and loosened his rifle, hanging it off of one shoulder as he eyed the vampire warily. His temerity shocked the soldier who had expected him to remain more quiescent after the other day's defeat. Instead, Hostile 17 gazed at him with ill-concealed belligerence, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he looped his hands in his belt and sauntered forwards toward the door. Despite the fear that gripped him, he managed to stand his ground as the vampire came as close to him as the door would allow. His heart beat wildly in his chest and at close range the chip seemed like poor protection.
As if he had read his mind, Spike's grin grew increasingly mordant, "How'd you like to help a fellow out?"
For one second fear gripped her as the General's words registered in her head, but the feeling was transient and quickly replaced by her anger, "You haven't got my friends."
"No," MacGruder accounted calmly, refusing to move back to his side of the desk despite the aura of violence that surrounded the Slayer, "But I have your lover."
Buffy barely managed to suppress a growl, her hazel eyes darkening ominously as she leaned closer to him, "You can't keep us here forever, someone is bound to notice."
He shrugged callously, "I could always kill you both and put an end to any speculation."
She stiffened, her hands tightening as she prepared to spring forward if he made any move towards her, "You could try."
MacGruder leaned back in his chair, smiling his noisome smile, "Even if you were to kill me Miss Summers, it is unlikely that you would make it to your lover before we had him terminated. Besides," his smile deepened, "like you Miss Summers, there will always be another, and another, and another to come take my place."
"You and I are nothing alike," Buffy stood, "what you are doing here is cruel! You're no better than the monsters you hunt."
"Spare me, Buffy," MacGruder's smile had vanished as he stared up at the petite figure, "You're not so different from the creatures you slay, either. You're just the different side of the same coin."
"You're wrong," she said woodenly, "I have a soul."
"Finally," his smile returned as he leaned forward, "we reach the topic I've brought you here to discuss."
Buffy frowned, confusion marring her face, "My soul? So what, the Vatican's employing you now to monitor the spiritual welfare of Sunnydale?"
"Not quite, Summers," MacGruder retrieved another manila envelope from his desk rawer and slid it forward on the desk, "Your genetic report. Needless to say you did not go quite completely undisturbed when you first arrived here. We weren't sure when we would have you cooperative again and it seemed pointless to pass up such a golden opportunity."
Buffy flipped open the folder, her eyes scanning the pages of computer readouts, "I hate science."
MacGruder smiled, "The scientific and the supernatural rarely accommodate each other, Miss Summers."
Buffy looked up from the folder, "So what, vampires would flunk chemistry also?"
He chuckled, "No, Miss Summers, what I mean is that what you're holding in your hand is the scientific proof of a genetic link between Slayer's and demons."
The soldier eyed him quietly, his brown gaze assessing the vampire carefully. Spike held his breath, sensing that whatever the soldier concluded about him would influence not only his fate but the fate of Buffy as well. Finally, the soldier's gaze lost it's intensity and he turned away from the vampire and back towards the blank white wall. Spike felt a swell of regret overtake him and was about to call the soldier back to him when the soldier's voice, low-itched and unsteady reached his ears, "How can you love her?"
Spike shrugged and leaned back against the white wall, "How does anybody love anyone, mate? There's no logical explanation for it; no hows and whys for you military, scientific types to analyze and break down into a chemical diagram or war plan. I love her in the same way any man loves a woman: completely and illogically."
The soldier turned back t him, confusion tearing across his face, his weapon lowered, "But you don't have a soul, you can't feel."
Spike snorted and pushed harshly away from the wall, "Rubbish. That's only a bedtime story they tell you to make you're job easer, so it's not people you're killing but demons, animals who are nothing like you. The truth, mate, is that we're a lot more alike than you'd like to think. The only difference is that we eat you."