Chapter 24 Glasgow, 6 July 2004

I had a call early this morning from one of the demon bar owners I've been cultivating for information. Well, I cleared out some trouble-makers for him a couple of days ago, and he agreed to keep his ear to the ground for any information he thought might be of interest to me. Can't say I was pleased to have my mobile ringing that early, but he was convinced I'd be interested, so I went out. Got here by ten, but it turns out he wants to introduce me to someone who wants to hire me. I'm just starting to consider the possibility that I've got out of bed for a red herring when the potential employer turns up - Bloxar demon. They're pretty scary-looking to your average human but they're not exactly known for their aggression. In fact, finding one of them in the middle of Glasgow when they normally avoid contact with humans is a sure sign of desperation.

Now Bloxar demons have this whole code about going through the niceties before getting down to business. If I was another Bloxar, it'd mean eating some things I'd rather not think about, but out of sensitivity to my feelings, he settles for beer and he's paid for a private room upstairs, complete with access to the pumps up there. We go through a range of toasts, wishing good health to all our living relatives, before he finally gets to the point. And you'd better believe he's got lots of living relatives. Anyway, it turns out my informant was trying to casually get information on Fyarls, and that, coupled with the rather embroidered story of how I dealt with a couple of unruly vamps, travelled north of Glasgow, to somewhere in the hills above Loch Lomond. Apparently, some Fyarls have moved into a Bloxar clan's home turf. Now there's no way a Bloxar's going to challenge a Fyarl – especially at this time of year when there're lots of young around. But he's either got to get rid of them, move the clan somewhere else, or just wait around while they're murdered one at a time. So, he's offering me good money to clear out the nest. But if there's a whole nest of them, then I'd kind of like back up. In fact, it occurs to me that it might be an ideal job for Buffy and me if she's interested. Dangerous enough to get the blood pumping but still something we could take care of. I take some contact details and promise to get in touch.

Once he's gone, I sit a while longer, wondering whether to do a round of some of the other bars I frequent, or just go back home for a sleep. In the end, the suggestion of a mug of blood followed by sleep sounds unbelievably welcome. And there's another thing in favour of that decision too. I might just run into Buffy.

It's after noon as I approach the final tunnel before Moira's cellar. And that's when the smell hits me. Fyarl. Unmistakable. Also unmistakable is the fact that it's coming towards me.

I get myself up, out of sight, and wait. It's not that I'm scared of Fyarls. Wary, yes. You'd be stupid not to be wary of them. Then I get another scent - one I'd welcome under most circumstances, but not right now. Buffy. Every instinct tells me to attack, but I'm not on a suicide mission today - the stakes are too high. If Buffy's in danger, then I've got to take it carefully.

When I spot them, I know there's no way I can attack just now. They've got Buffy, and it looks like she's been drugged or something. She's slung over the shoulder of one of them, but she's too vulnerable if I start something. Apart from anything else, Fyarls don't have good night vision, and when they start to get violent they can be pretty indiscriminate. There's no way I can get to her fast enough to make sure she's safe. So, I do the only thing I can - I follow.

At least that's not difficult. Like I said, Fyarls don't have good night vision, and they're not exactly known for their stealth, so I can creep along behind them without being spotted. And I do, for the best part of an hour.

I'm having to guess where we are now - I haven't used this part of the tunnels before. In fact, by the look of them, these tunnels aren't used by anyone and haven't been for years. The Subway doesn't extend very far south of the river, and we've come further than that, out of the service tunnels and into what I can only assume are for nothing other than sewer access, unless Glasgow has had a demon Lord Provost to match the Mayor of Sunnydale.

And then, without warning, they pass through an archway to the left and quickly disappear from sight. I follow, and there's a staircase going further down, apparently hewn out of rock. There's a noise here too, a humming sound, and it's getting louder as I approach.

Round a bend, and I can also get occasional flashes of light reflecting on the wall ahead of me, so I hold back a bit further, listening all the more carefully. And then, there are voices. The Fyarls didn't gossip on the way, I'll give them that much. Couldn't bloody creep up on a deaf man, but idle chatter's definitely to be avoided if they want to be inconspicuous.

They're talking in Fyarl, and the voice that replies is also speaking Fyarl, but it's human.

"Took you long enough. Any trouble?"

Their reply isn't directly translatable, but let's just say it wasn't very polite. The human's answer, though, shows he's either extremely thick-skinned or he's only got a very basic grasp of the language.

"Good, I'll just finalise the portal." There's a sizzling sound, and the humming becomes louder, and the light brighter.

"That's it. Take her through and make sure she's settled. Once that's done, get the Rynkets to send you back. I'm expecting another major consignment soon, and I'll need all of you for that."

There are grunts of agreement at that, but I don't wait to hear. I lunge towards the source of light, just in time to see Buffy, still slung over a shoulder, disappear into the portal. There's only one thing I can think to do, and so I do it, throwing myself at the portal after her, as I hear it fizzling out of existence.

Conscious that my best weapon will be surprise, I'm on the alert as I emerge, my hand already on one of the two silver knives I've taken to carrying lately, and I'm relieved to find that the two Fyarls are only met by a wizened little imp-like demon I don't recognise. I get rid of him with a single kick before the Fyarls have even spotted they were followed. I launch myself at the one carrying Buffy, managing to down him quickly and snatch Buffy out of the way. The fight is pretty brutal after that, but desperation's a wonderful thing. And desperation's what I feel when it comes to keeping Buffy safe.

Once I've dispatched the Fyarls, I rush to Buffy. She's unconscious, but her heart's beating strongly, so I gently try to rouse her. I'm relieved that I haven't been disturbed so far, but there's a door at the end of the room we're in, and I've got no idea what's behind that. There's no obvious means of escape in this room - whatever mojo created that portal, I suspect it was done at the other end, so we're going to have to take a look around here, and I'd rather do that with the Slayer able to pull her weight rather than being carried.

It takes a while, but eventually, she rouses, blearily looking at me with what seems to be a soppy grin.

"Spike," she murmurs before closing her eyes again. "Wasn't a dream."

She seems to drift off again before waking properly, sitting up and taking in her surroundings.

"What wasn't a dream?" I demand, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Dream? Nothing. No dreaming. Where are we and where's Phillip?"

"Phillip?" I demand, unreasoning jealousy emerging despite the situation.

"Phillip. Watcher-guy. Spencer-Kidd. All high-wattage smiles and expensive clothes. He …" she reaches round to rub her arm. "He stuck me with a needle, it made me all weak, and then I passed out."

"We're going to have a chat about you letting blokes close enough to stick you with needles," I growl. At least that's what it sounds like even if it's not what I intended. "But for now, we've got trouble. I spotted you being carried by a Fyarl through the tunnels under the city and I followed. Didn't get a chance to do anything then, but they got to a place where there was a man - maybe your Phillip, I was in too much of a hurry to notice - and he'd opened up a portal. They took you through, and I followed just before it closed. Sorted the Fyarls once I was through, and that little thing," I point out the imp. "He was the welcoming committee, but he might also be our key to getting back. Haven't had any visitors since we arrived, which is surprising, but it could be the only way out of here is out there. Anyway, assuming this is the same outfit that's been nabbing Slayers, maybe the others are here too."

She takes that in, then goes to take a look at the unconscious demon on the floor.

"We should tie him up," she suggests. I agree, but don't have anything obvious with me. A check around the sterile-looking atmosphere of the room we're in doesn't suggest anything either, so I go through what the Fyarls were carrying, and eventually manage to find some cord that should do it. There's a heavy-duty pipe running from floor to ceiling in a corner of the room, and I tie him securely to that and when I turn back to Buffy, she's looking concerned.

"What's up?"

"Look, Spike. I don't know how much use I'll be to you. I hit Phillip, and he didn't even wince, well, not too much."

"Demon, do you think?"

"No. That stuff he gave me … it felt like when I did that test for the Council when I was eighteen - crucia - something. Giles said it was a muscle relaxant - took away my powers. The same but different. That didn't knock me out, but it lasted for days."

"Ok," I say, working out our best move from here. "Maybe we should just wake up his wrinkliness there and persuade him to send you back. I'll go and see if there are any other Slayers here."

"Not on your life. I passed that test the Council set, even without the extra strength. No. We're going out of here together. Don't worry, I won't get in your way."

And she gets up from where she's been sitting on the floor and makes her way to the door.

I learned a long time ago that there's not a lot of point in arguing with Buffy when she's determined. So, I make up my mind to make the best of what we've got.

"Ok, you're coming. Won't argue. But I'm going first."

She looks at me, ready to disagree, but then she thinks better of it.

"Ok, you go first."

The door's heavy and made of metal. It isn't locked, though, and after listening carefully for a moment, I open it a crack. There isn't a lot of light out there - unlike here where it's almost clinically bright. Can't see or hear anyone though, so I open the door fully, ready to react to any threat. Nothing.

We're in a corridor, apparently towards the end. Turning left, we make our way along, ducking down at the first door we reach. I listen carefully at the door, but don't hear anything. I risk a look, and I'm disappointed to find it's just an office - complete with desk and filing cabinets. In fact, the only odd thing is that I don't see a phone or computer or whatever.

There's nothing else for quite a while, and by the time we reach the next door, my skin's crawling with the effects of magic. I'm almost scared to look into the next room, but I do anyway. Visible through a glass panel in the door is a huge crystal. It's basically clear like a diamond, but it's throbbing with wisps of colour following each other around its depths. It's beautiful, and I feel drawn to it, but my good sense reasserts itself in a moment. It's magic and magic's dangerous. Therefore, I'm going to leave it well alone. One glance at Buffy and it's obvious she's got it worse than me. I put a hand on her arm and try to bring her back. She seems confused for a second, and about to argue too, until I remind her that our priority is to find any other Slayers there might be around here. After several backward glances, she reluctantly follows me.

The only option now is a staircase going down, so we take it. At the bottom is a short corridor, with just one door and another staircase leading down. The door looks like one in a prison cell, with a peep hole which I use. Inside is an array of cages, and in each of the cages, is a sleeping girl.

I break down the door, and we go inside. The noise seems to rouse the girls, and soon, I'm faced with dozens of Slayers all looking at me like they wish they had a stake in their hands.

Buffy's scanning the various faces, as if looking for a familiar one, when one of the girls shouts out.

"Buffy?" The voice comes from a girl in one of the closest cages. Buffy seems to recognise her too, rushing towards her.

"Angelique?"

I decide to stay close to Buffy. What can I say? I'm not averse to taking a tumble with a Slayer, but I draw the line at that many of them at once.

It's then that I feel something hit my back, and I turn to spot an improvised wooden stake lying on the floor behind me. Buffy spots it too.

"Who threw that?" she demands.

A mousy-haired girl in another cage raises her hand. "He's a vampire," she says by way of explanation.

"Yes, he's a vampire. And the only reason I'm not in a cage like the rest of you is him. You leave him alone or you answer to me, got it?"

That's not enough for our stake-wielding Slayer, though.

"And who are you to be giving orders?"

"Stella," Angelique intervenes. "This is Buffy Summers. You know, The Slayer. The one who defeated the First. The one whose idea it was for us all to get our Slayer powers."

But even that's not enough for Stella. "Oh, and I suppose the vamp's Spike. Oh, wait, it can't be. He burned to dust when he closed the Hellmouth at Sunnydale."

"Well, actually," I say, sauntering over to her cage. "That's exactly who I am. Glad to see that the Council of Watchers isn't afraid to tell the truth these days."

"But …?"

Whatever she was going to say is overwhelmed by a sudden chatter from the various cages. They all want to say something, all want to know what's going on.

"Quiet!" Buffy yells. "Now, Angelique, can you tell us what's happening here. Why haven't you escaped? Are there any guards? What are we up against?"

Again, several girls try to talk, but Buffy yells at them to be quiet again, and this time they do.

"Well," Angelique starts. "As for escaping, believe me, we've tried. These bars are just too strong. Can't budge them. There aren't any guards, at least, not as such. There're a few demons around - little scrawny-looking things - but we think they must be drugging us somehow. We're all spending a lot of time asleep, and when we wake up, there's food in each cage and everything's been tidied up. I don't think the food's drugged, though, 'cos some of us tried not eating it, and we still fell asleep pretty quickly."

"So, why are you here? Some of you have been here for a while, I'd guess."

"Over a week," Angelique agrees. "Linda was here before me, though."

She points to a blonde girl towards the back of the room."

"Other girls were here before that. Some of them have gone, though. You wake up sometimes, and some girls are gone and we don't know what happened to them."

"Anyone here called Fiona Walker?" I ask, remembering Gus' description of her and the photos I've seen.

"Fiona?" Linda answers. "Yes, I think her name was Walker. Scottish girl. I made the mistake of calling her English and she told me off about it. She was one of the first to disappear."

I feel that sinking feeling as I imagine telling Gus that news, but push that out of my mind.

"So," I continue. "Is this all of you?"

"Right now? As far as I know," Angelique answers. "Most of the girls don't ever come in here. I was one of a dozen or so girls taken at the same time. I was just snatched by … I don't know what, and found myself in a huge room somewhere. They sorted us - most staying there and I was brought here and locked in. I don't know what happened to the others. Are they … dead?"

"Probably not," Buffy answers. "Most of the Slayers have been sent back, minus their powers and their memories, but otherwise ok. As far as we can tell, it's only the active Slayers that have been held."

While Buffy was speaking, I've been having a go at Angelique's cell. Contrary to what the girls have said, the bars are a long way from being Slayer-proof, and it only takes a couple of minutes for me to bend a couple far enough to let her out.

"Well, that answers that," I comment. "Now, what do we do?"

"I wonder how long until you're due to be fed again? Any idea?"

There's a general muttering at that, but it's Angelique who finally answers.

"I'd guess not long. We don't tend to wake until after they've been, so we must be just about due or I suspect we'd have slept through your arrival, too. I assume we woke because we sensed a vampire - I know that's the first thing I knew - that there was a vampire near."

"Ok, so here's what we do. Spike, you bend enough of those bars to let the girls out. Remember, Spike's with us in this, so don't let your Slayer instincts get the better of you. With any luck, there'll be demons for you to fight later. We'll take you to a room upstairs where you can hide out for a while - should be fairly defensible too, given your numbers, even if you aren't as strong as you should be. I'm hoping that you'll soon recover your strength, but I honestly don't know. We left our welcoming committee up there, unconscious and tied up. If he comes around, you can try to persuade him to open a portal back again. If you can get out, then go. We'll see what else we can find."

There's a general cacophony of disagreement at that, but Buffy holds up her hand.

"Look, Spike and me? We … we work well together, and we're used to each other. We'll be better off alone."

There's still disagreement, but Buffy just turns to me.

"Ok, Spike. Plan B. We'll leave the girls here and let them out when we've checked out the rest of this place."

We both turn to go, but we're met with reluctant agreement to our terms. I leave Buffy to chat to Angelique while I set to work on the rest of the cages. In no time I'm surrounded by maybe fifty Slayers, among them the ones who Giles sent to meet me in London. Most of them are eyeing me warily, but there's been no attempt to do worse.

After checking out the corridor, we lead the girls back to the first room which appears to be as we left it. We leave then, moving downstairs, only to find a reason for the lack of any resistance so far.

There's nothing apparent at the bottom of the second set of stairs, so, still in the lead, I go on, only to hear a muted squeal from Buffy a second later. I look back, and there she is, sitting on the lowest step.

"What's up, Love? Enjoy your trip, did you?"

She glares at me as only she can.

"No, there's a barrier there." She gets up again and puts out her arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, it's like a vamp without an invitation.

"Looks like it's been Slayer-proofed," I agree. "I suppose that explains why there isn't any security up here. Can't get out the way we came in, can't get down here. They seem to be pretty sure of what they're doing."

"Yes, but that doesn't exactly help, now does it?"

"No, but listen. I'll go on alone. Maybe there's a way to turn off the field. If there is, I'll come back and get you. If not, then I'll just have to see what I can do on my own, won't I?"

Another glare, but this time there's sadness there too.

"Spike," she says quietly. "Be careful. I … I don't want to lose you again."

"Know the feeling, Pet. Don't you worry. You know me. I'll be back like the proverbial bad penny."

With that, I turn around and leave her watching until I go round the corner out of sight.

It doesn't take too long to find the rest of the resident demons. There are six of them – same species as our welcoming committee. I try to remember what that human called them – at least I assume it's the same ones. Something like wrinkle. They're working on some sort of magic, that much is obvious. Either that or they're into some fairly involved chemistry.

Fortunately, even six of them don't present much of a problem, and it's not long before I've knocked all but one of them out, and the final one is cowering in a corner.

"Right," I say, trying to maintain my threatening appearance when in reality, I'm trying not to laugh. "Want to tell me who's in charge of all this?"

He shakes his head, apparently in terror.

"I'm going to have to hurt you if you don't, so it really is in your best interests to talk."

"I believe you. But I think he'd hurt me worse if I talk, so …"

"You really believe that, do you?"

I take a look around the room, spying a particularly wicked looking knife that's already spotted with blood - Slayer blood by the scent.

"See, I know how this knife's been used. And you know how that makes me feel?"

He shakes his head, apparently not getting the point.

"Slayer blood. I'm what you might call a connoisseur. And I take it personally if someone spills some of it."

"But … you're a …"

"Vampire? Yeah. But, I'm kind of unique."

"Angel? I thought …"

"No, not Angel. There's more than one vampire with a soul, except there isn't any more, but maybe you're not up to date with the news."

He shrinks further back into the corner.

"So, are you going to tell me what's happening here?"

Another shake of the head.

"Ok, for now, let me tell you what I think. You've been kidnapping Slayers. Most of them, you're sending back, minus their Slayer abilities. Some, though, are being kept here. Not sure why. Some are going elsewhere. Again, not sure of the details, but …"

He's looking worse than ever, and I'm just wondering how much he can take when suddenly, he crumples, and seems to turn to smoke in front of my eyes. I spin around, and the others are gone too, but I'm not alone.

He looks human but I know he's not. Tall, blonde, tanned, dressed in a navy business suit with white shirt and bluey-green tie. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks like a Wolfram and Hart employee. Then again …

"Spike, Spike, Spike," he says in a tone of voice guaranteed to irritate. "You really are a surprise. You know that? Every time we think you're gone for good, up you pop. Irritating, but not really important enough to do anything about."

"Well, real irritation's an art, isn't it?"

He ignores that.

"So, who are you? I mean, you know my name – seems only fair if I know yours."

"My name? I've got more names than you've got deaths on your conscience. But in this time and place, I'm known as Hatton."

"So, Hatton. This your show? You've been running it, have you?"

"Lately, yes, it's my show. Not my idea, though. You know, for really original ideas, humans have got demons beaten every time. We just decided it was too good an opportunity to miss."

"We? So you're not alone."

"Spike, you're a bright chap. I thought you would've guessed by now. You and the rest of Angel's merry band may have survived the hordes we sent against you when you destroyed the Circle of the Black Thorn, but the Senior Partners are as strong as ever. Yes, it'll take a while before we get others of that calibre into place on earth, but all that means is that people like me have to step into the breach."

"So you're with the Senior Partners, are you? At least I know who I'm dealing with. Can't say I think a lot of your security here."

He actually laughs at that. Got to say, this bloke knows how to make you feel small. Just as well I learned how to ignore another master of that art – bloody Angelus.

"I've been watching you since you arrived. There's no need for security. There's no way in or out of this dimension unless you know how to set up an inter-dimensional portal which, I'm assuming, you don't. What's more, since you don't know anything about this dimension and its relationship to your own, even if you could, you could end up anywhere, and so many of the alternatives are actually much, much worse than this one."

I roll my shoulders. It's the sort of body language that annoys pillocks like this one, and it helps my readiness for the fight I know is coming.

"So, you're telling me to just give up. Nothing I can do. Might as well just let you carry on with what you're doing. Next you'll be offering me a job. You know, switch sides."

"Well, in some circumstances, you'd be right. But you? Too much the maverick. I'd never be able to trust you, so no, I won't be offering you the chance to switch sides. You're just too human, and I mean that in what humans would see as the best possible sense. You care about others too much, you know? People who work for the Senior Partners really need to only care about themselves. That's how we get the results we need. Take me, for example. I don't care how much I have to hurt you before I finally dust you. And then I'll release some more gas upstairs, knock all the Slayers out, and send in some minions to tidy up."

"Making some assumptions there, aren't you?"

"Let's just say I'm confident of my abilities. And, when you're dust, then I can see to the disposal of our most recent acquisition. She was specially requested, you know that? In a different dimension to the one you inhabited, Drusilla killed Willow Rosenberg before she could return Angelus' soul. He killed his Slayer. It took a very long time, but no one can take that much abuse forever. He was rather disappointed she didn't last longer, and he's willing to pay a great deal for a replacement. I may be wrong, but I'd suspect that this version of Buffy Summers will last longer than the other one."

That's it. The idea of Buffy being sent to Angelus … used like that. I launch myself at him and bounce right back. For the first time I consider the possibility that this might just be harder than I thought.