Title: SAMARITAN
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc. Except Mrs. C, Eddie, Zevra, Grak, Garg, and the rest of the demon gang...
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Sequel to Grandpa; A soul takes Spike places no one expected him to go.
Setting: The near future; right about now, in fact!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SAMARITAN Pt. 19 The Wolf Shall Lap
"Okay, so those dice add up to seven, see?" Clem said. "Three on one face and four on the other. That makes seven. So you win!"
"Add up?" Grak rumbled, every line of his great torso expressing puzzlement.
"Yeah. You put the dots on one face together with the dots on the other face, and that's the number you threw. You win, see? 'Cause I got five, and you got seven."
"Win good?" Grak said. Clem suppressed a sigh. Apparently his new pal still wasn't at his best and brightest - at least, he hoped he wasn't. He smiled encouragingly.
"That's right!" he said, pushing a pile of battered pretzels across the floor. "Here's your winnings!"
A rectangle of yellow light showed suddenly at the top of the stairs.
"Clem?" It was Buffy's voice. An expression of unease crossed Grak's face.
"Um, hi, Slayer - we're down here," Clem called out.
There was a pause.
"Can you spare me a minute, Clem?" Buffy said. "I don't want to come down and upset, uh, Grak."
"Sure thing, Slayer! I'll be right back, okay, Grak?" Clem said, with a reassuring smile at the Fyarl, who sat moodily munching on his winnings. He scrambled to his feet, and mounted the stairs.
"What can I do for you, Slayer?" he said.
Buffy stood in the doorway with her arms folded, and a determined glow in her hazel eyes that made a chill run through his neck flaps.
"Spike and Angel have been gone too long," she said. "I'm not waiting any more. We're going after them."
* * * *
"O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay."
As Spike's voice faded, so did Angel's memories of long ago waver and pass away, and he returned, reluctantly, to the dingy little room where they were confined.
"One thing I'll say for Willie B.," Spike remarked, after a few moments' silence. "Just like going on holiday, isn't it? I can smell the bloody reeds, even in this rathole."
"Yeah," Angel roused himself, and palmed the last of the mists from his eyes. "So can I."
Spike rested his folded arms on his upraised knees.
"Ever think of going back?" he said.
"No. Everything must be so - changed."
"Maybe that's better. Wouldn't remind you of anything."
"It probably would, anyway." Angel stretched his legs out before him, crossing his ankles. "No one recites anymore. I kinda miss it."
"Do me a favor," Spike snorted. "Bloody kids today can't even read. I don't know what they do teach 'em, but - "
A scraping sound interrupted them. Suddenly both vampires were profoundly still, and two pairs of golden eyes fixed on the grate covering the ventilation duct. A rain of plaster dust fell from it to the floor, and the grate jerked outward, with surprisingly little noise. Then a broad, green face appeared in the opening, and Angel saw Spike relax back to his human visage.
"Eddie! Fancy seeing you here," Spike said.
"Hey, Spike," a gravelly voice responded. "How's tricks?"
"Eddie, this is Angel; Angel, Eddie."
"How ya doin'?" Eddie said politely.
"I can't complain," Angel said. "And yourself?"
"Not bad," Eddie replied. "You guys wanna escape?"
* * * *
"Agent Finn," the Doctor's voice purred from behind the hideous metal mask, "You disappoint me. You're supposed to be a soldier."
His heart pounding, Riley scuttled backwards across the floor until he hit a rickety chair, and the clatter of its fall recalled him to his senses somewhat. He stared up at the Doctor, her burnished face and white-clad torso swaying above a great reptilian tail. She had her hands - HER hands - in the pockets of her lab coat. He shuddered.
"Who - who are you?" he said, struggling to keep control. "I don't believe - you're not - you're not - "
"Oh, but I am. She is. We are." What the hell did that mean? But that wasn't her voice, it wasn't, he was sure. He knew her voice as well as his own mother's.
"I don't believe you," he said boldly. "If you're - if you're her, then take off the mask. Show me."
He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't laughter.
"I don't think I can do that, Agent Finn," she said, slithering closer to the edge of the platform with a sickening, scaly rustle. Another jolt of horror shot through him as he saw dark, human eyes peering at him from behind the bronze. But Maggie Walsh's eyes had been blue, hadn't they? He struggled to remember. "You see," she went on, her tone musical and insinuating, "this is not a mask..."
* * * *
"Ta very much, Eddie, but no," Spike said. "The plan is to actually see this Doctor bird, find out what's going down, find out what Grunt Boy's up to - "
"And then deal with it," Angel finished, setting his jaw.
"Okay, I get it. Better get a move on, then. The Slayer's coming."
Spike swore.
"Well, we should have thought of that, I guess," Angel said, with resignation.
"We'll just hurry the bint along, then," Spike said, rising and starting to pace again. "We can get out of here easily enough. I want to know what that bastard's plan is - and then rip out his spine." Angel raised an eyebrow, and he added, "Figuratively speaking, of course."
"We got a guy on the inside, just so's you know," Eddie said. "Any trouble, he'll help you out. And we got these." He tossed down two small objects, and Angel crossed the room to pick one up. "Secret weapon. Case of emergency."
"Hey, cool!" Angel said, examining the item he'd retrieved.
* * * *
Bearing a gleaming sword before her, with a crossbow slung across her back, Buffy led her well-armed troops through the damp, dimly lit tunnels. She hated these stupid tunnels. Why couldn't the big bads ever set up lairs above ground? Come to think of it, the only one who'd done that was Spike - the original "no-limits" guy. Turning a particularly obscure corner, she abruptly halted, causing Xander to bump into her from behind, Gunn to bump into Xander, and Clem to bump into Gunn, with clanking weapons and remonstrances all around.
"Sam?" Buffy exclaimed, ignoring the commotion.
"Buffy? Xander?" The dark-haired girl rose from the shadows where she'd been sitting against the wall. She looked pale, and her clothes and face were dirty. "What are you doing here?"
Buffy was momentarily dumbfounded. Then she felt her temper rise. What was SHE doing here? This was her town, dammit. Sam was the one who'd come romping back here with Riley in tow, uninvited, and triggered all this turmoil.
"Where's Riley?" she demanded.
"He went in," Sam said, in a distracted voice, obviously unaware of Buffy's ire. "He needed to see the Doctor for something - "
"I bet he did," Xander said.
"He told me to wait here," Sam said, pushing her hair back from her face with unsteady fingers, "but he's been gone a long time. I'm worried."
"You're WORRIED?" Buffy said, trying to curb her irritation. None of this was Sam's fault, really, she supposed. The truth was, her nerves were taut with concern over Spike. She tried to moderate her tone. "How much do you remember?"
"Not that much." Sam's dark eyes were shadowed. "It was sort of like being in a cloud all the time. I heard her in my mind, and I couldn't do anything except what she told me. I felt so alone." She shivered, and hugged herself. "But deep down I knew he'd come for me, I just knew it."
"Romantic," Xander said, swinging a very large axe up to rest on his shoulder. "Touching, even. Did Sir Lancelot du Lac happen to mention asking US for help?"
"N-no," she said. "He said he paid that demon lady to fix the spell - "
"He said he WHAT!?" Clem exclaimed, his usually pacific demeanor giving way to wrath. Buffy squeezed his arm.
"She doesn't mean that, Clem," she said. "Sam, Riley came to us asking for help to find you. Mrs. Caprescu was just doing us a favor; she wouldn't dream of taking money for something like that. And Riley never said anything about 'business' with the Doctor."
"Oh!" Sam looked confused. "I'm sorry - maybe I didn't understand what he said..."
Buffy bit back a sharp retort. "Well, there's no time for this now," she said. "We've got to find Spike and Angel. And Riley, whatever he's up to. Where did he go, Sam?"
"There's an entrance about fifteen feet that way." Sam pointed down the hallway. "But you can't get in if you're armed."
"We'll see about that," Buffy said, her lips pressed into a firm line.
* * * *
"But enough of this badinage," the Doctor said abruptly. "I have other appointments. You came to me with an offer. What do you want in return?"
Riley gulped. Right. Right, the trade. They each had something the other wanted. And then it would all be like it was; he would take Sam and shake the dust of this town off his feet for good, and never look back. Never look back.
"I want - " he swallowed, and made himself sound confident. "I want those eggs."
"But the eggs were destroyed, weren't they?" Her voice held an almost caressing tone. It made the hair stand up on his arms.
"You know those weren't Suovolte eggs," he scoffed, in a show of bravado. "You've still got them."
"Perhaps so. And for the eggs, you're willing to give me - ?" He couldn't tell from that immobile facade, but she sounded as if she were smiling.
"The Slayer."
She hissed in apparent satisfaction.
"Yes," she said softly. "The Slayer. Mine, at last!"
* * * *
"So what's this weapon, then?" Spike asked. In answer, Angel tossed him one of the objects. It was made of clear green plastic, and fit neatly in his palm. It was, in fact, a strangely familiar looking water pistol. And it was filled with a murky liquid -
"Not holy water, is it?" he said, holding the toy by its trigger with two fingers.
"Mrs. C's triple-strength, grade-A anti-thrall potion," Eddie said. "Instant, and permanent."
"Good lord, that's bloody brilliant!" Spike turned the flimsy pistol around in his hands with more respect.
"And Doctor won't get far with no minions," Angel said.
"Brilliant," Spike said again. "Well, thanks loads, mate. These'll come in right handy."
"We'd better get going, I guess," Angel said, tucking his pistol away in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Good to meet you, Eddie."
"Same here. Catch you again sometime," Eddie replied. "See ya, Spike." He inched backwards along the ventilation shaft, pulling the grate up after him. Spike took hold of it and pressed it firmly into the crumbling plaster.
"Well, that'll hold for about ten minutes," he remarked, and turned toward the door with a grin for his grand-sire. Poetry was all very well, but he was bored with waiting. Action was better. "Shall we?"
"After you," Angel said politely. Spike took a firm grip of the door handle and gave it a powerful pull, as Angel spun and kicked the hinges. With a rather puny crack, the hollow-core door split down the middle. They pulled the broken pieces from their moorings and tossed them to the floor.
* * * *
Buffy stood casually near the entrance to the Doctor's hideout, the point of her sword resting on the floor and her hands folded over the pommel.
After a few moments, she heard the metallic clunk of a lock, and the door opened partway. A small, reptilian looking demon peeked out, clutching the edge with spindly little fingers.
"Yesss?" it said, its black eyes unwavering.
"She's expecting me," Buffy said firmly.
The doorkeeper gazed at her, and blinked once, slowly. Then it stood back and let the door swing wide.
"Welcome, Ssslayer," it said.
* * * *
"Your offer is tempting, Agent Finn," the Doctor said, "most tempting. But perhaps it would surprise you to know that I've had a competing offer."
"What?" Riley said, confused. What was that supposed to mean? Why couldn't she just say what she was going to say right out? God, he hated demons (if that's what she was). They were never straight with you.
"You're not the only entrepreneur in town, it seems," she said. He heard an undertone of amusement in her voice, damn her. "Others have approached me with a similar offer."
"Well, they must be bluffing," he said defiantly. He needed those eggs. Those eggs were his ticket home. "I'm the one you need to deal with. If you - if you know what Professor Walsh knew, you'll know that. I'm the one who can deliver the Slayer." He set his shoulders, and faced her. "She trusts me."
* * * *
Buffy stepped through the door, but not all the way through, and as she did so a crowd of ten or so dull-eyed Fyarls pressed toward her.
"Come," the doorkeeper said.
"Sure, I'll come," she said, smiling. "But not alone. You with me, guys?"
All at once Gunn, Xander and Clem appeared behind her shoulder, super-soakers raised.
"And we're packing major heat," Gunn said.
"Or, make that major wet," Xander amended.
"So stop right where you are!" Clem chimed in.
The Fyarls hesitated for a moment, but then kept coming. Buffy prudently ducked as the three of them took aim and squirted high-powered streams of cloudy, spicy-smelling liquid at the enormous guards.
* * * *
Standing behind the door to the Doctor's throne room (or whatever it was), Spike heard the Cub Scout boast, "She trusts me."
A growl of fury erupted from deep in his throat, and a red film blurred his vision. Angel's hold on his arm was all that kept him from bursting in and tearing the bastard's head off, chip or no chip.
After a few seconds struggle with himself, he won back control, and gave Angel slight nod. Side by side they set their shoulders to the door, and with one push forced it with surprising ease. As it swung inward, Spike wondered briefly where all the Fyarls had gone.
They sauntered into the huge room, both in full game face, and saw their quarry, half cowering by the foot of a platform. And then they saw her, and knew why he cowered. Even Spike had to keep himself from flinching. What the bloody hell was that thing? He shot a glance at Angel, whose dark eyes were fixed on the creature.
"Chimera," Angel whispered, barely moving his lips, and too softly for any but vampire ears to hear. "Now we know what she wants Buffy for."
Spike felt his blood, hot with rage at Riley's perfidy, abruptly chill.
* * * *
The effects of the anti-thrall potion were gratifying, and immediate. One after another, the great horned demons crashed down, unconscious. Buffy could actually feel the floor shake beneath her feet, and in just a few minutes, the room was piled high with unconscious Fyarls.
"Wow!" she breathed, as the last aftershocks faded. "Mrs. Caprescu rocks!"
"Man, I gotta take some of this stuff home with me," Gunn said. "At first I felt kind of silly, with a squirtgun and all, but this is downright awesome. L.A. demons won't know what hit 'em."
"Yeah, feel the power that is us!" Xander said. "By the way, that is no mere squirtgun, my friend, but a Super Soaker Super Charger Monster. Extra size, extra force, with a cherry glitter finish. And my trusty weapon is nowhere near empty, so bring on the minions, say I."
"I hope they'll be okay." Clem surveyed the Fyarls, his brow wrinkling even more than usual. "Some of these guys might be Grak's relatives."
The Pakik demon who had opened the door rose from the corner of the room, where it had hidden when the shooting started.
"Quickly, this way, Ssslayer," it said.
Buffy spun around to face it, and saw that its eyes were now bright and aware.
"You must move quickly. Your weapons will serve very well against enthralled minions, but ssstill you must fight. Ssshe also employs villains who work for pay."
"Oh, really? Does that include you?" Xander challenged, brandishing his axe again.
"I am neither villain nor for hire," the Pakik replied, looking him up and down with hauteur.
"Oh," Xander said.
"Where's Spike?" Buffy said.
The little creature seemed to ponder for a moment.
"He isss with her now, with the other," it said, "and the human. Hurry. The vampires are coming."
* * * *
"Well, well, well," Angel said, strolling forward, hands dug in his pockets. "Our little lost lamb."
"Hope you're not taking this git too seriously," Spike said. "Since he's just double-crossed us, I wouldn't exactly trust his word."
"Really?" the Doctor said, in a disappointed tone. "He's got such an honest face."
"Just what a liar needs," Spike snapped, lunging toward Riley. When Angel shouldered him aside, he stood tensely, poised to retaliate, his golden eyes alight with fury.
"Back off, Spike," Angel growled, staring him down. "He's mine."
Shrugging, Spike stepped back a pace, with a sulky expression on his face. Angel floored Riley with a lightning fast blow, then seized his collar in a firm grip and hauled him to his feet again.
"This was not our deal, Finn," he hissed into his ear. "I offered you a cut, not the whole pot. Pay attention!" As Riley wiped away the blood that trickled from his nose with one hand, Angel punched him in the ribs. "Spike can tell you - from experience - that I don't like people who lie to me."
"Gets right peevish," Spike confirmed, polishing his nails on his lapel and examining the results. "Liable to fly off the handle."
"I don't know what the hell you two are talking about!" Riley protested. "What - ?" His voice cut off as Angel punched him again.
"Shut up!" Angel said, his lips pulled back from his fangs in a feral snarl. "WE deliver the Slayer to the Doctor! It was OUR plan! You offered your little demon girl as a guide - for pay. That's all."
"And we don't really feature letting a cheap scuzz like you cut into our cash flow," Spike added. He turned to the Doctor. "You know how it is, I expect, missus," he said. "Lackeys get out of line sometimes. Have to be taught a lesson."
"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," she said pleasantly. "So I should be dealing with you, then?"
He grinned up at her. "If you want the Slayer."
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin, and leave her?
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying;
Eleu loro
There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the falsehearted;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap
Ere life be parted:
Shame and dishonour sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it
Never, O never!
Eleu loro
Never, O never!"
Sir Walter Scott
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc. Except Mrs. C, Eddie, Zevra, Grak, Garg, and the rest of the demon gang...
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Sequel to Grandpa; A soul takes Spike places no one expected him to go.
Setting: The near future; right about now, in fact!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SAMARITAN Pt. 19 The Wolf Shall Lap
"Okay, so those dice add up to seven, see?" Clem said. "Three on one face and four on the other. That makes seven. So you win!"
"Add up?" Grak rumbled, every line of his great torso expressing puzzlement.
"Yeah. You put the dots on one face together with the dots on the other face, and that's the number you threw. You win, see? 'Cause I got five, and you got seven."
"Win good?" Grak said. Clem suppressed a sigh. Apparently his new pal still wasn't at his best and brightest - at least, he hoped he wasn't. He smiled encouragingly.
"That's right!" he said, pushing a pile of battered pretzels across the floor. "Here's your winnings!"
A rectangle of yellow light showed suddenly at the top of the stairs.
"Clem?" It was Buffy's voice. An expression of unease crossed Grak's face.
"Um, hi, Slayer - we're down here," Clem called out.
There was a pause.
"Can you spare me a minute, Clem?" Buffy said. "I don't want to come down and upset, uh, Grak."
"Sure thing, Slayer! I'll be right back, okay, Grak?" Clem said, with a reassuring smile at the Fyarl, who sat moodily munching on his winnings. He scrambled to his feet, and mounted the stairs.
"What can I do for you, Slayer?" he said.
Buffy stood in the doorway with her arms folded, and a determined glow in her hazel eyes that made a chill run through his neck flaps.
"Spike and Angel have been gone too long," she said. "I'm not waiting any more. We're going after them."
* * * *
"O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay."
As Spike's voice faded, so did Angel's memories of long ago waver and pass away, and he returned, reluctantly, to the dingy little room where they were confined.
"One thing I'll say for Willie B.," Spike remarked, after a few moments' silence. "Just like going on holiday, isn't it? I can smell the bloody reeds, even in this rathole."
"Yeah," Angel roused himself, and palmed the last of the mists from his eyes. "So can I."
Spike rested his folded arms on his upraised knees.
"Ever think of going back?" he said.
"No. Everything must be so - changed."
"Maybe that's better. Wouldn't remind you of anything."
"It probably would, anyway." Angel stretched his legs out before him, crossing his ankles. "No one recites anymore. I kinda miss it."
"Do me a favor," Spike snorted. "Bloody kids today can't even read. I don't know what they do teach 'em, but - "
A scraping sound interrupted them. Suddenly both vampires were profoundly still, and two pairs of golden eyes fixed on the grate covering the ventilation duct. A rain of plaster dust fell from it to the floor, and the grate jerked outward, with surprisingly little noise. Then a broad, green face appeared in the opening, and Angel saw Spike relax back to his human visage.
"Eddie! Fancy seeing you here," Spike said.
"Hey, Spike," a gravelly voice responded. "How's tricks?"
"Eddie, this is Angel; Angel, Eddie."
"How ya doin'?" Eddie said politely.
"I can't complain," Angel said. "And yourself?"
"Not bad," Eddie replied. "You guys wanna escape?"
* * * *
"Agent Finn," the Doctor's voice purred from behind the hideous metal mask, "You disappoint me. You're supposed to be a soldier."
His heart pounding, Riley scuttled backwards across the floor until he hit a rickety chair, and the clatter of its fall recalled him to his senses somewhat. He stared up at the Doctor, her burnished face and white-clad torso swaying above a great reptilian tail. She had her hands - HER hands - in the pockets of her lab coat. He shuddered.
"Who - who are you?" he said, struggling to keep control. "I don't believe - you're not - you're not - "
"Oh, but I am. She is. We are." What the hell did that mean? But that wasn't her voice, it wasn't, he was sure. He knew her voice as well as his own mother's.
"I don't believe you," he said boldly. "If you're - if you're her, then take off the mask. Show me."
He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't laughter.
"I don't think I can do that, Agent Finn," she said, slithering closer to the edge of the platform with a sickening, scaly rustle. Another jolt of horror shot through him as he saw dark, human eyes peering at him from behind the bronze. But Maggie Walsh's eyes had been blue, hadn't they? He struggled to remember. "You see," she went on, her tone musical and insinuating, "this is not a mask..."
* * * *
"Ta very much, Eddie, but no," Spike said. "The plan is to actually see this Doctor bird, find out what's going down, find out what Grunt Boy's up to - "
"And then deal with it," Angel finished, setting his jaw.
"Okay, I get it. Better get a move on, then. The Slayer's coming."
Spike swore.
"Well, we should have thought of that, I guess," Angel said, with resignation.
"We'll just hurry the bint along, then," Spike said, rising and starting to pace again. "We can get out of here easily enough. I want to know what that bastard's plan is - and then rip out his spine." Angel raised an eyebrow, and he added, "Figuratively speaking, of course."
"We got a guy on the inside, just so's you know," Eddie said. "Any trouble, he'll help you out. And we got these." He tossed down two small objects, and Angel crossed the room to pick one up. "Secret weapon. Case of emergency."
"Hey, cool!" Angel said, examining the item he'd retrieved.
* * * *
Bearing a gleaming sword before her, with a crossbow slung across her back, Buffy led her well-armed troops through the damp, dimly lit tunnels. She hated these stupid tunnels. Why couldn't the big bads ever set up lairs above ground? Come to think of it, the only one who'd done that was Spike - the original "no-limits" guy. Turning a particularly obscure corner, she abruptly halted, causing Xander to bump into her from behind, Gunn to bump into Xander, and Clem to bump into Gunn, with clanking weapons and remonstrances all around.
"Sam?" Buffy exclaimed, ignoring the commotion.
"Buffy? Xander?" The dark-haired girl rose from the shadows where she'd been sitting against the wall. She looked pale, and her clothes and face were dirty. "What are you doing here?"
Buffy was momentarily dumbfounded. Then she felt her temper rise. What was SHE doing here? This was her town, dammit. Sam was the one who'd come romping back here with Riley in tow, uninvited, and triggered all this turmoil.
"Where's Riley?" she demanded.
"He went in," Sam said, in a distracted voice, obviously unaware of Buffy's ire. "He needed to see the Doctor for something - "
"I bet he did," Xander said.
"He told me to wait here," Sam said, pushing her hair back from her face with unsteady fingers, "but he's been gone a long time. I'm worried."
"You're WORRIED?" Buffy said, trying to curb her irritation. None of this was Sam's fault, really, she supposed. The truth was, her nerves were taut with concern over Spike. She tried to moderate her tone. "How much do you remember?"
"Not that much." Sam's dark eyes were shadowed. "It was sort of like being in a cloud all the time. I heard her in my mind, and I couldn't do anything except what she told me. I felt so alone." She shivered, and hugged herself. "But deep down I knew he'd come for me, I just knew it."
"Romantic," Xander said, swinging a very large axe up to rest on his shoulder. "Touching, even. Did Sir Lancelot du Lac happen to mention asking US for help?"
"N-no," she said. "He said he paid that demon lady to fix the spell - "
"He said he WHAT!?" Clem exclaimed, his usually pacific demeanor giving way to wrath. Buffy squeezed his arm.
"She doesn't mean that, Clem," she said. "Sam, Riley came to us asking for help to find you. Mrs. Caprescu was just doing us a favor; she wouldn't dream of taking money for something like that. And Riley never said anything about 'business' with the Doctor."
"Oh!" Sam looked confused. "I'm sorry - maybe I didn't understand what he said..."
Buffy bit back a sharp retort. "Well, there's no time for this now," she said. "We've got to find Spike and Angel. And Riley, whatever he's up to. Where did he go, Sam?"
"There's an entrance about fifteen feet that way." Sam pointed down the hallway. "But you can't get in if you're armed."
"We'll see about that," Buffy said, her lips pressed into a firm line.
* * * *
"But enough of this badinage," the Doctor said abruptly. "I have other appointments. You came to me with an offer. What do you want in return?"
Riley gulped. Right. Right, the trade. They each had something the other wanted. And then it would all be like it was; he would take Sam and shake the dust of this town off his feet for good, and never look back. Never look back.
"I want - " he swallowed, and made himself sound confident. "I want those eggs."
"But the eggs were destroyed, weren't they?" Her voice held an almost caressing tone. It made the hair stand up on his arms.
"You know those weren't Suovolte eggs," he scoffed, in a show of bravado. "You've still got them."
"Perhaps so. And for the eggs, you're willing to give me - ?" He couldn't tell from that immobile facade, but she sounded as if she were smiling.
"The Slayer."
She hissed in apparent satisfaction.
"Yes," she said softly. "The Slayer. Mine, at last!"
* * * *
"So what's this weapon, then?" Spike asked. In answer, Angel tossed him one of the objects. It was made of clear green plastic, and fit neatly in his palm. It was, in fact, a strangely familiar looking water pistol. And it was filled with a murky liquid -
"Not holy water, is it?" he said, holding the toy by its trigger with two fingers.
"Mrs. C's triple-strength, grade-A anti-thrall potion," Eddie said. "Instant, and permanent."
"Good lord, that's bloody brilliant!" Spike turned the flimsy pistol around in his hands with more respect.
"And Doctor won't get far with no minions," Angel said.
"Brilliant," Spike said again. "Well, thanks loads, mate. These'll come in right handy."
"We'd better get going, I guess," Angel said, tucking his pistol away in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Good to meet you, Eddie."
"Same here. Catch you again sometime," Eddie replied. "See ya, Spike." He inched backwards along the ventilation shaft, pulling the grate up after him. Spike took hold of it and pressed it firmly into the crumbling plaster.
"Well, that'll hold for about ten minutes," he remarked, and turned toward the door with a grin for his grand-sire. Poetry was all very well, but he was bored with waiting. Action was better. "Shall we?"
"After you," Angel said politely. Spike took a firm grip of the door handle and gave it a powerful pull, as Angel spun and kicked the hinges. With a rather puny crack, the hollow-core door split down the middle. They pulled the broken pieces from their moorings and tossed them to the floor.
* * * *
Buffy stood casually near the entrance to the Doctor's hideout, the point of her sword resting on the floor and her hands folded over the pommel.
After a few moments, she heard the metallic clunk of a lock, and the door opened partway. A small, reptilian looking demon peeked out, clutching the edge with spindly little fingers.
"Yesss?" it said, its black eyes unwavering.
"She's expecting me," Buffy said firmly.
The doorkeeper gazed at her, and blinked once, slowly. Then it stood back and let the door swing wide.
"Welcome, Ssslayer," it said.
* * * *
"Your offer is tempting, Agent Finn," the Doctor said, "most tempting. But perhaps it would surprise you to know that I've had a competing offer."
"What?" Riley said, confused. What was that supposed to mean? Why couldn't she just say what she was going to say right out? God, he hated demons (if that's what she was). They were never straight with you.
"You're not the only entrepreneur in town, it seems," she said. He heard an undertone of amusement in her voice, damn her. "Others have approached me with a similar offer."
"Well, they must be bluffing," he said defiantly. He needed those eggs. Those eggs were his ticket home. "I'm the one you need to deal with. If you - if you know what Professor Walsh knew, you'll know that. I'm the one who can deliver the Slayer." He set his shoulders, and faced her. "She trusts me."
* * * *
Buffy stepped through the door, but not all the way through, and as she did so a crowd of ten or so dull-eyed Fyarls pressed toward her.
"Come," the doorkeeper said.
"Sure, I'll come," she said, smiling. "But not alone. You with me, guys?"
All at once Gunn, Xander and Clem appeared behind her shoulder, super-soakers raised.
"And we're packing major heat," Gunn said.
"Or, make that major wet," Xander amended.
"So stop right where you are!" Clem chimed in.
The Fyarls hesitated for a moment, but then kept coming. Buffy prudently ducked as the three of them took aim and squirted high-powered streams of cloudy, spicy-smelling liquid at the enormous guards.
* * * *
Standing behind the door to the Doctor's throne room (or whatever it was), Spike heard the Cub Scout boast, "She trusts me."
A growl of fury erupted from deep in his throat, and a red film blurred his vision. Angel's hold on his arm was all that kept him from bursting in and tearing the bastard's head off, chip or no chip.
After a few seconds struggle with himself, he won back control, and gave Angel slight nod. Side by side they set their shoulders to the door, and with one push forced it with surprising ease. As it swung inward, Spike wondered briefly where all the Fyarls had gone.
They sauntered into the huge room, both in full game face, and saw their quarry, half cowering by the foot of a platform. And then they saw her, and knew why he cowered. Even Spike had to keep himself from flinching. What the bloody hell was that thing? He shot a glance at Angel, whose dark eyes were fixed on the creature.
"Chimera," Angel whispered, barely moving his lips, and too softly for any but vampire ears to hear. "Now we know what she wants Buffy for."
Spike felt his blood, hot with rage at Riley's perfidy, abruptly chill.
* * * *
The effects of the anti-thrall potion were gratifying, and immediate. One after another, the great horned demons crashed down, unconscious. Buffy could actually feel the floor shake beneath her feet, and in just a few minutes, the room was piled high with unconscious Fyarls.
"Wow!" she breathed, as the last aftershocks faded. "Mrs. Caprescu rocks!"
"Man, I gotta take some of this stuff home with me," Gunn said. "At first I felt kind of silly, with a squirtgun and all, but this is downright awesome. L.A. demons won't know what hit 'em."
"Yeah, feel the power that is us!" Xander said. "By the way, that is no mere squirtgun, my friend, but a Super Soaker Super Charger Monster. Extra size, extra force, with a cherry glitter finish. And my trusty weapon is nowhere near empty, so bring on the minions, say I."
"I hope they'll be okay." Clem surveyed the Fyarls, his brow wrinkling even more than usual. "Some of these guys might be Grak's relatives."
The Pakik demon who had opened the door rose from the corner of the room, where it had hidden when the shooting started.
"Quickly, this way, Ssslayer," it said.
Buffy spun around to face it, and saw that its eyes were now bright and aware.
"You must move quickly. Your weapons will serve very well against enthralled minions, but ssstill you must fight. Ssshe also employs villains who work for pay."
"Oh, really? Does that include you?" Xander challenged, brandishing his axe again.
"I am neither villain nor for hire," the Pakik replied, looking him up and down with hauteur.
"Oh," Xander said.
"Where's Spike?" Buffy said.
The little creature seemed to ponder for a moment.
"He isss with her now, with the other," it said, "and the human. Hurry. The vampires are coming."
* * * *
"Well, well, well," Angel said, strolling forward, hands dug in his pockets. "Our little lost lamb."
"Hope you're not taking this git too seriously," Spike said. "Since he's just double-crossed us, I wouldn't exactly trust his word."
"Really?" the Doctor said, in a disappointed tone. "He's got such an honest face."
"Just what a liar needs," Spike snapped, lunging toward Riley. When Angel shouldered him aside, he stood tensely, poised to retaliate, his golden eyes alight with fury.
"Back off, Spike," Angel growled, staring him down. "He's mine."
Shrugging, Spike stepped back a pace, with a sulky expression on his face. Angel floored Riley with a lightning fast blow, then seized his collar in a firm grip and hauled him to his feet again.
"This was not our deal, Finn," he hissed into his ear. "I offered you a cut, not the whole pot. Pay attention!" As Riley wiped away the blood that trickled from his nose with one hand, Angel punched him in the ribs. "Spike can tell you - from experience - that I don't like people who lie to me."
"Gets right peevish," Spike confirmed, polishing his nails on his lapel and examining the results. "Liable to fly off the handle."
"I don't know what the hell you two are talking about!" Riley protested. "What - ?" His voice cut off as Angel punched him again.
"Shut up!" Angel said, his lips pulled back from his fangs in a feral snarl. "WE deliver the Slayer to the Doctor! It was OUR plan! You offered your little demon girl as a guide - for pay. That's all."
"And we don't really feature letting a cheap scuzz like you cut into our cash flow," Spike added. He turned to the Doctor. "You know how it is, I expect, missus," he said. "Lackeys get out of line sometimes. Have to be taught a lesson."
"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," she said pleasantly. "So I should be dealing with you, then?"
He grinned up at her. "If you want the Slayer."
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin, and leave her?
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying;
Eleu loro
There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the falsehearted;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap
Ere life be parted:
Shame and dishonour sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it
Never, O never!
Eleu loro
Never, O never!"
Sir Walter Scott