Chapter Twenty

Trapped

"Do you think she's all right?" Tara asked anxiously, glancing at her closed bedroom door, before looking up at Spike. They were snuggled up together on the loveseat. The television was on in front of them – the classic movie channel was showing Psycho -- but the sound was turned down, and neither one of them was really watching it.

"She will be, love," he said softly, playing idly with her hair as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "It's a lot to puzzle out. You're right. It's a bloody heavy load for a child, a decision like this." He paused. "Not sure I could have made it myself, if Buffy'd only gone as far with me as she went with Dawn."

Tara looked up, searching his eyes. "But now you could?"

"Not sayin' it'd be easy, love," he shrugged, frowning. "But I – I've seen enough to know…" His voice broke off as he thought about the right words to use. His expression distant, remembering, he continued, "Back when she first came back – I was pretty bloody furious with the lot of you. I knew Red kept me out of it for a reason. Knew I was too attached to Buffy, wouldn't let her end it if – Buffy came back wrong. But – but that's it, love. Buffy came back wrong. Only alive 'cause of this nasty inside her, when she should be at peace – enjoying her reward. This thing, holding her here, doing these awful things in her body, it's – it's insulting to her memory is what it is."

Tara was silent for a few moments. "Maybe it's for the best. That's what you're saying, right? Buffy never should have come back – and if she – doesn't make it – it might be better for her. She could be – back in heaven."

Spike nodded slowly. Then he let out a heavy sigh. "Don't know if all that'd be so clear to me if she was my sister, though."

Just then the door to the bedroom swung slowly open. Dawn stood there, a blank sort of expression on her face. She was pale, and a dark bruise had appeared on her face where Buffy had struck her. Her face was tear-streaked and her hair was disheveled. But there was a determined look in her eyes as she approached them.

"I'm going to do it," she said in a raspy whisper that sounded very loud in the quiet room. "It's what Buffy would do. This – this isn't her – not really. It's what she'd want me to do."

Sitting up, pulling away from Spike, Tara held out her arms to Dawn, who stood there trembling, her eyes filling with fresh tears. She gently pulled the girl down to nestle between her and Spike. Spike wrapped his arms around her and she leaned her head on his chest, sobbing softly, as he murmured soothing nonsensical sounds into her ear, until, exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed, she fell asleep in his arms.

"Let's get her to bed, shall we?" he said softly, and Tara helped him to rise with the sleeping girl in his arms. As he laid her down on the bed and pulled the blankets up around her shoulders, brushing a stray lock of silky brown hair back from her face, he said to Tara, "You ladies take the bed tonight. I've got the sofa."

Tara frowned. "It's not much of a sofa, Sweetie."

He shrugged. "'M all right, love." He smiled down at her, but the smile was forced, and his eyes were distant and full of pain.

Tara's wide grey eyes saw right through his façade, and she suddenly pulled him to her. He tensed in surprise for a moment, then surrendered, laying his head on her shoulder with a sigh.

"It's all right, you know," she whispered. "not to want to lose her again."

He pulled his head up with a start, staring at her with wide eyes, blinking back tears. Then he sighed again and smiled sadly. "You can't lose what you never had, love – what you only – thought you had." Reaching down to tenderly touch her cheek, he went on, "This – this is what I'm afraid to lose."

Reaching up to place her hand over his, Tara smiled into his eyes and whispered, "You'll never lose this." She pulled his hand from her cheek, holding it tight in her own as she leaned in to kiss him softly, slowly, then pulled away and promised, "It's yours. Forever."

The next afternoon found Spike and Dawn alone in the apartment. Tara was at work until 9:00, at which point they would put their plan into action. Tara had explained the ritual to them; it required only one material thing – a specific urn in which Reyem's presence would have been housed before it had been placed in Willow and Buffy. Tara was sure that Willow would have it, and planned to come home after work just to check in and be sure everything was still in order, then go to Buffy's under the pretense of needing some things she had left in Willow's room. Then she would find the urn and return, at which point they would perform the ritual.

But until then, Spike and Dawn had time to kill. Thus they found themselves playing a game of poker on the coffee table.

"You little cheater!" Spike snarled good-naturedly.

"I learned from the best," she winked at him as she scooped up the pile of chips from the center of the table. "You should be proud of me."

His smile became warm and his voice softened as he replied, "Always, pet."

Dawn beamed at his words.

Just then the phone rang. They exchanged a nervous glance; neither moved, as they listened to the ringing and the soft, musical sound of Tara's voice on the answering machine.

"Hey, Spike," a nervous male voice said. "I know you're there, pick up!"

Quickly Spike picked up the phone from the end table beside him. "Who is this?" he demanded, as Dawn cringed. She was not at all sure that answering the phone had been his smartest option.

"Willie."

"Willie the snitch?" Spike said in disbelief. "How did you get this number? Why are you calling me here?"

"I got this guy here, see – he gave me the number. Said he knows about your problem with the Slayer, and he can help. Asked me to call you," Willie explained hurriedly.

"Yeah, well, got the problem under control already, see, mate. Me and the Slayer don't see each other any more," Spike snapped.

"Not that problem, Spike," Willie rushed to cut in before he could hang up. "He said to mention the words 'Reyem Rasco'. Said you'd know what he was talking about."

Spike felt his heart nearly drop through the floor. "What?" he repeated in a near-whisper.

"He said he has a way to fix the problem and save the girl."

Spike was silent for a long moment, taking this in. If there was any chance that they could defeat this thing, and save Buffy…He glanced at Dawn. If he could spare her the pain of this decision she had made…

"Where can I find this guy?" he asked.

"He said to tell you to meet him here at 7:00. If you're interested," Willie replied.

"I'm interested. Tell him I'll meet him," he agreed without hesitation, then hung up the phone without another word.

"Who was that? Where are you going?" Dawn asked, in a small, scared voice.

"Someone who might be able to help us, Niblet," he said softly, thinking.

Tara was supposed to be home in a couple of hours, at which time she would get the urn, and then they would do the ritual. If there was a way to solve this without doing the ritual, he had to act fast and find it before it was time.

"Help how?" Dawn asked, standing up as he pulled on his coat with a glance at the clock. 6:40.

"Is Buffy working tonight?" he asked her without answering.

"Yes. Thursday. She works until close," Dawn answered automatically, sick with worry. "What's going on?"

Forcing himself to calm down and turn to smile at her, he took her gently in his arms and said, "Nothing to worry about, Bit. Your sis is working. I'll steer clear of the Doublemeat Palace and I'll be back before you know it." Then he let her go and hurried out the door before she could ask any more questions.

He didn't want her to know what Willie had said, just in case it turned out to be a false hope – in which case he would pound the little creep into the ground, chip or no chip. And he didn't want to tell her where he was going, in case she decided to follow him. It would be too dangerous for her, and even if she wanted to help, she would only get in his way. He had important business to take care of.

He was going to see a man about a girl.

If he had not been so focused on saving Buffy and Dawn – story of his life – he would have noticed the unusually quiet, nervous atmosphere as he walked into Willie's. Several sets of eyes turned to focus on him, but that was nothing unusual. He stepped straight up to the bar and without preamble grabbed Willie by the collar and yanked him halfway across the bar, careful not to actually hurt him. It would be a bad time for a headache.

"Where's this guy?" he demanded.

Willie gave him a strangely apologetic look. "He – he couldn't make it…" he stammered, then, strangely, added in a quieter voice, "I – I'm sorry, Spike…"

Alarms went off in his head, and he released Willie suddenly, backing a few steps toward the door before turning to go.

He turned right into a smiling Slayer.

"Going so soon, Baby?" she smirked. "But I just got here!" Her smile hardening, she shoved him backward, and he fell onto a barstool behind him. God, she was strong! Well, fighting her was no longer an option…

His mind racing, fighting off panic, he looked frantically around for any means of escape. As if seeing his thoughts, Buffy shook her head reprovingly as she came forward to take his arm in a brutally tight grip, leaning in to say softly, "You're not going anywhere."

She turned him around on the stool to face Willie, smiling at the nervous bartender as she put her arm possessively around Spike's waist. Instinctively he pulled away slightly, but her arm was like steel. "Thanks for all the help, Willie. Couldn't have done it without you." Her voice was cheerful. Glancing around the room, she smirked back at him, Send me a bill for the damages."

Spike glanced around at the room, noticing for the first time its disarray. It had obviously experienced a recent Slayer-rampage. It was all coming together now, in spite of the haze of fear that clouded his mind. Buffy had come in here, threatening Willie, probably terrorizing his patrons, showing off her new-and-improved super-strength, and had made Willie help her trap him. Not that Willie wouldn't have done it anyway for ten bucks, he thought in disgust. But how did she know? he wondered.

His thoughts were cut off as she jerked him suddenly to his feet, her arm still a band of iron about his waist. "Take a walk with me, Baby," she murmured suggestively, but there was pure menace in her eyes.

As they stepped out into the night air, Spike found his voice at last. "Buffy…" he began.

Instantly he found himself slammed with bone-shattering force against the wall, and an impossibly powerful fist struck him in the face. Leaning into his face, completely calm, smiling, Buffy ordered softly, "Shut up."

He nodded quickly to show her that he intended to obey, and she took him by the arm again and dragged him along, stumbling, still seeing stars from the blow, as she forced him to walk ahead of her down the street.

Tara, Tara, please! he sent out desperately.

No response.

Oh, God, Tara, please, I need you!

Still nothing.

Buffy smiled at him coldly. "Not picking up?" she asked conversationally. "Maybe you've lost the signal."

He looked back at her sharply in shock, the unspoken question in his widening eyes.

"I'm friends with a witch too, Baby," she reminded him. "One who recently took a little trip in your friend's mind and found out some very interesting things. My friend did a little blocking spell on your 911-line. It's out of service at the moment." She stopped suddenly and yanked him back with an arm tight across his throat as she added in a whisper very near his ear, "I don't think I'm as close to my friend as you are to yours, though." She paused, then went on in a chilling tone, "You know what happens to men who cheat, Baby? Nothing even close to what's going to happen to you. You're a lot harder to kill."

When she released him suddenly, he nearly fell forward, shaking uncontrollably as his hope faded away. Returning her hand to his shoulder tightly and pressing a driving fist against the small of his back so that he gasped in pain, she snarled, "Move."

He obeyed, having no choice. They walked in silence the rest of the way to her house. Xander's car was parked outside. As they reached the porch, Buffy yanked him back again, her voice a menacing whisper against his ear. "You're gonna keep your mouth shut about your little theory in here, aren't you, Baby?"

He nodded quickly, terrified, and choked back a silent sob as she twisted his arm painfully up behind his back. Oh God, oh God, Tara!

"They wouldn't believe you anyway. You'd only make me angry. And you're in enough trouble already," she finished before dragging him up the porch steps.

Opening the door, she gestured grandly with her arm, her overly polite smile masking the cruelty in her eyes. Her voice was oddly warm and her eyes glittered with vicious intent as she spoke again.

"Come in, Baby."