Chapter Text
Part 1
For a bunch of undercover army guys, they lacked the subtlety that made Buffy question the standards of the military. After seeing them pop up in odd places since the start of the semester, she had a routine patrol interrupted as she came across a group of them taking down a demon. They didn’t kill it, but Buffy lurked at the edge of the corpse of trees to watch them sedate and secure the horned beastie with tight binds. It was stupid to follow them, but it was the best lead she had and Buffy stuck to the shadows as she dogged them back towards UC Sunnydale campus.
The underground lair was a covered man hole in the ground not far from the dining hall. They file down and Buffy gave them a ten minute head start before she followed. This would be where she should have gone back to the Scoobies and had Willow look into computer systems, and ask Xander if he remembered anything from his one-night-of-soldierdom. Instead she took the instinct in her gut telling her to move and followed them underground.
Its hallways were lit by red emergency lights that give it an even more sci-fi doom feel. She could faintly hear the rumble of feet and low male voices from further with in. She followed, checking for security, for footage or trip wires that didn't come. The tunnels came to a series of security doors. One was labelled Containment Cells and Buffy looked through the plexiglass view window. The inside is a fully-lit, sterile hallway of cells. Rows and rows of demons and monsters, all highlighted under too much florescent. Some are pacing, others are huddled. A few of the more clawed ones scratched at the glass.
Buffy checks the other doors that don’t have windows. One said Personnel and the other simply LAB. They all had a security key pad that looked as though it operated with a card swipe. Well, Buffy conceded that she had come this far she may as well figure out the rest. With brutal slayer strength, Buffy smashed the pin pad on the cell door and it swung open.
“Easy peasy,” Buffy muttered.
The cells were insulated and soundproof. Buffy could see the moment the demons recognise her as the Slayer and lose it, but she couldn't hear a sound – like watching TV on mute. Some of them looked really banged up – a few even missing limbs. A tentacle demon was gasping on the dry ground like a dying fish. Buffy moved swiftly down the corridor, peering in and trying to discern what the hell it was that she was seeing. She almost walked straight past him, but something jolted inside of Buffy. It wasn't the Vampire tingles because the room was too full of them for her to recognise one, however irritatingly familiar. It was as if her eye was drawn and Buffy stopped to take it in.
Spike was curled at one end of his cell. The room wasn’t bigger than a closet and there was no furniture. He was so pale and still that if he was a man she’d have thought him dead. He was wearing a grimy pair of grey sweats and she could see where the blood had stained them. His face was turned away showing a shaved patch on the back of his head and surgical scaring.
The prone figure didn’t stir. Buffy moved closer and rapt her knuckles gently against the glass wall. Spike flinched but didn’t get up, and it was that lack of bite that put Buffy into auto pilot. The keypad by his door was the same as the one to the cell. She punched it as hard as she could and felt the familiar buzz pop of it breaking but the door didn’t slide open, instead the room was bathed in flashing red security lights that felt even more assaulting after the quiet of the room.
“Spike! Wake the fuck up!” Buffy shouted but Spike still hadn’t moved.
She took a step back, bounced once on the balls of her feet and leapt forward for a hard front kick. The glass rattled. Buffy took another run up and this time she felt the glass crackle under her boot. It wasn’t much but enough for her to pull back her fist and concentrate on that small dent. The punch gave her enough give for Buffy to fight her way inside. The room was stuffy and unventilated. It smelt of stale blood and that sick smell that underlined hospitals. Buffy leant down and grabbed Spike under the arms, hauling him up and over her shoulder without checking him.
“Gotta go, gotta go,” Buffy said.
When Buffy hit the halls she heard the stampede of soldier foots filing after her. There was the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking and Buffy cursed Spike for being a literal dead weight, and picked up the pace. Fortunately she’d been doing the Jane Fonda weight lifting tapes with her mom on the weekend, she thought about Jane Fonda leading a “how to carry a Vampire” course.
She had left the tunnel entry open and Buffy half threw Spike out, wincing when she heard his body smack the ground. She crawled up, kicked it shut and grabbed up Spike again, running for the trees.
She heard a somewhat familiar voice shouting directions as soldiers hit the ground. “Take the East, I’ll take the West. Keep sharp, Hostile 17 won’t go down easily.”
Buffy was half-lying on top of Spike, keeping them against the ground as she waited. When she thought maybe the coast was clear, Buffy heard a light wheeze close to her ear and looked down. In the gloom she couldn’t make out any distinctions but she could see that the shape of Spike’s face looked off.
“I’ve got you,” Buffy murmured. “I’ve got you.”
-
“Buffy, what’s this?”
Giles had answered Buffy’s frantic knocks on the cusp of sunrise. She had taken a longer way to Giles’ apartment across town, trying to avoid anywhere like the cemetery or alleyways that the soldiers might look. It was slow process and now that they were further away from the underground labs, Buffy was trying to be more delicate as the reality of Spike’s condition became more apparent. She was guessing at broken bones and internal bleeding – just as a start. The fact that he had passed out from pain and couldn’t be roused was making her feel prickly.
“Invite him in,” Buffy snapped.
All sleep had left the Watcher’s face as he took in the bleached hair slumped over Buffy’s shoulder. “C-come in.”
“Grab his legs. Help me to the couch?”
Together they laid Spike out on the couch, Buffy moved cushions around to get him comfortable. His face was unrecognisable – it was black, red and grey, mottled with fresh and unhealed scars, bruises and wounds. One eye was swollen shut, puffy and painful enough it gave Buffy sympathy pains. The clothes were soaked and stained with blood and one of his hands had a crushed finger that was going purple. He looked skinner and paler than normal, and Buffy realised the veins visible in his neck were pale and dry.
“We’ll need to get him blood,” Buffy said.
“Buffy,” Giles had grabbed her upper arm in a firm grip. “What happened?”
She felt so jittery and impatient to burst into action. Things made sense when there was actions and plans, and if she was doing things she didn’t have to think about what Spike looked like right now or try and sus out what she was so panicked and freaked out from seeing her mortal enemy like this.
“I followed those sus soldier guys,” Buffy said. “I know, I know. But I saw them taking this demon hostage and I figured it was a chance for some recon. They have an underground prison and a lab, I think, right by the college campus! This thing is sci-fi madness. I saw Spike in the cell and I just…He can give us some idea of what’s happening,” Buffy said. “But we need to find him blood.”
Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked as sick as Buffy and refused to look directly at Spike. It was one thing to dust a vamp, but none of them had the stomach for torture. “Call Willow, she can bring us some. Have her come by I have some books on healing.”
Buffy woke Willow up and kept the call brief. She than called Xander, who promised to be there soon. With the calls done, Buffy dug around in the bathroom and sound a wash cloth and filled a bowl with warm water. Giles had drawn the curtains against the rising sun and was already flicking through volumes at the table. He didn’t comment as Buffy sat on the coffee table to lean over the unconscious vampire. As she cleaned the blood off his face Buffy tried to practice detachment or zen or not-losing-her-mind. He looked small, so fragile under all the wounds. The water was turning a dark pink and Buffy gently petted his unkempt hair as if he was a wounded animal. He had curly hair, had she known that?
Willow and Oz arrived first with two brown bags of blood from the butchers and a thick book in her backpack. She gasped when she saw Spike and her large eyes shone. “Is he…?”
“Unconscious,” Buffy said. “Here, give me.”
Buffy heated the first container of blood and leant her forehead against the cabinets. She had been awake for over twenty-four hours but was too buzzed to keep any of the bone-deep tiredness. The microwave beeped and she filled the mug, found a straw in Giles’ cutlery draw, and hustled back into the living room. Willow and Oz had joined Giles at the table and they were flipped through musty books together.
Buffy took her seat on the coffee table and prodded Spike. “Hello? Wakey wakey Vampy.”
After some prodding Spike’s non-swollen eye flickered and he gasped loudly as remembering he could breath. Buffy leant away as he hissed and moaned, feeling all of the pain rush back into him.
“Here.” Buffy poked the straw between his parched lips and Spike began to suck greedily.
The mug was quickly drained but there wasn’t much more alertness. “He’ll need a lot more than that,” Giles said. He was next to Buffy with another mug of hot blood. Buffy hadn’t even heard the microwave. “I’ll make more.”
After five rounds Spike was able to keep consciousness enough to hiss Buffy’s name.
“You’re safe,” Buffy said softly. She grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. “Just rest.”
A startled blue eye watched her through a hooded lid, but he didn’t speak. Just watched her as Buffy stayed by his side.
“What’s the go?” Buffy called to the table.
“I think we might have something,” Willow said. “I can make a potion to help ease some of the pain.”
Giles’ door opened to Xander and a box of donuts. “I come bearing food of our people,” Xander said. “Woah.” He had caught sight of the lump of bruised flesh that was Spike.
“Close the door,” Buffy said. “Sunlight.”
Xander closed it and came nearer. He looked at Spike from the foot of the couch. “What was it?”
“Soldiers,” Buffy said. “Whatever is going on is a lot worse than we thought.”
“Worse?” Xander handed Buffy a jelly donut. She sat it beside her, her stomach still queasy. “I mean, if they’re doing this to Spike shouldn’t we be on board?”
“The place was full of demons,” Buffy said. “Looks like they were torturing or experimenting or something. Missing limbs and all.” She trailed off when she felt Spike try to pull his hand away from hers. Buffy let his cold fingers slip back to rest by his side.
Willow was still in the kitchen and there was a strong smell of lavender and ginger.
“Buffy you should go home and get some sleep,” Giles said. “Once Willow has made the potion we can take over watching Spike.”
Something unexpected and fierce rose up in Buffy’s throat and made her want to growl. She fought the primal urge and just shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“We have psych mid-morning,” Oz said reasonably. “He’ll probably pass out again when he drinks this stuff.”
Spike’s hand found Buffy’s and squeezed with none of his normal strength. He was looking at her again and Buffy nodded. “I’ll stay,” she said. “You guys tell Professor Walsh I’m sick.”
Buffy didn’t miss the concerned look that passed around her friends but no one tried to stop her. Willow’s potion was watery and sweet smelling like tea. Buffy used the straw again and helped Spike sit up enough to drink it all. Almost instantly he went still again, his grip slacking in Buffy’s hand.
“It should keep him under while he heals,” Willow said. “He’ll sleep like the dead. Oh.”
“Again, there’s no reason for you to stay, Buffy,” Giles said. “Xander and I can keep watch and get him more blood.”
Xander made a face but didn’t say anything. He must have seen the look on Buffy’s face.
Buffy was chewing her lip. “Can you beep me – when he wakes up?”
“It won’t be for hours,” Willow said.
Buffy reluctantly got up. When Giles’ apartment door closed behind them Willow gasped. “Buffy, is that his or yours?”
Buffy looked down. Her clothes were covered in blood and dirt. She looked as if she had crawled from her grave. Her stomach rolled and she was glad she hadn’t eaten the donut. “His.”
-
After psych Buffy had an English Lit class and after a lunch her Cold War American History class. It was her most full day of classes and with the lack of sleep and her adrenaline high Buffy was fighting to keep awake by poking herself in the leg with a pen. She had pen lines under the hem of her skirt and her eyes felt itchy and dry, but she still insisted they take Oz’s van to Giles’s.
It was just Giles and Spike was still passed out in a magical healing coma. Buffy assessed him but he didn’t look any better.
“It’s a lot of injuries,” Giles counselled. “He won’t be well for some time.”
“Did you give him more blood?”
“He hasn’t woken up.”
Buffy went into the kitchen to start preparing. Willow followed. “Are you OK, Buffy?”
“Huh?” Buffy was being careful not to spill any blood. He would need all of it. Maybe they should have gotten some human? Where would she go? Hospital?
“You look really wigged,” Willow said. “Not that this isn’t total wiggage-ness. And it’s all bad and kind of freaky – but you look really wigged.”
Buffy rubbed at her temple. She was starting to get a headache behind her eyes. All she could smell was blood and disinfectant and lingering traces of ginger. When had she eaten last?
“I’m fine.”
“If you’re not,” Willow said. “You can tell me.”
Buffy looked through the picture window that separated the kitchen from the living space. Giles and Oz were in a quiet, enthusiastic talk over some records. Or as enthusiastic as Oz ever looked. She couldn’t see Spike from their angle.
“I don’t know…” Buffy chewed the corner of her lip and tried again. “Something in me is just.” She waved her hands around. “You know?”
Even when Willow was frowning her eyes were so big, like Bambi-eyes. They held so much more depth than Buffy was comfortable with sometimes. “You’re really scared,” Willow said.
Buffy swallowed past a lump deep in her throat. “He looks so bad,” Buffy said. “What happened to him?”
Willow squeezed Buffy’s hands. “We’re healing him.”
Buffy nodded and jumped when the microwave dinged. She and Willow managed to rouse Spike enough to be able to drink. He went back to sleep as soon as the last drops were gone. Buffy stayed by his side as Willow started to check through some more texts for anything that could help with the healing. Giles had put a record on with slow music and the atmosphere was almost cosy as the light fell behind the curtains.
“Slayer.” Buffy looked back at Spike. He looked drunk, a pink tongue darting out to lick at dry lips.
“I’m here,” Buffy said. “A-are you OK?”
Spike’s fingers twitched and Buffy grabbed his hand, holding him. Spike hummed softly and fell back into sleep.
“I’m here,” Buffy whispered.
-
The next two weeks went much the same way in that Spike slept most days as his body slowly healed itself, and Buffy kept vigil when she wasn’t in class, patrolling or sleeping. She and Willow did their homework at Giles’ and the Watcher played them records and made them food. Giles had helped Spike change clothes one night and Buffy was startled when she came over to see the Vampire in soft pyjama pants and a knitted sweater. He looked so startling normal.
“I haven’t seen any soldier boys,” Buffy said. She had been keeping an eye out in case but they were proving even more elusive.
“Maybe they’re gone?” Willow said.
“Doubtful,” Xander said. “They’re just gone to ground or are trying to recapture Spike so they’ll be even more incognito.”
Spike hadn’t been awake long enough to tell them much of anything. He was awake long enough to eat, maybe make a grouchy comment about the song playing or Xander’s loud voice, and then was out again. Buffy tried not to fret because he was looking better. Willow checked the back of his head and said the scar was almost healed and the hair was even coming back a soft brown.
Close to Halloween Buffy arrived at the apartment before class to see Spike sitting up holding a mug of blood. His swollen eye was now just a black eye and he was looking more angular in the face. Buffy was almost faint just looking at him.
“’Lo, Slayer,” Spike said. He sounded casual but Buffy could hear the faint notes of tension and weariness. She wondered how much Spike remembered in the two weeks of coma.
“You look good,” Buffy said and winced. “I mean, better. Not so much a discarded crash dummy.”
Spike hummed and drank some more as Giles came down the stairs. “Ahh, Buffy. Good, you’re here. Spike has finally woken up.”
“Yeah, I can see.” Buffy went to sit at her usual place on the coffee table but thought better. She swung awkwardly and took a recliner.
“Ol’ Rupes said you got me out of that torture cell,” Spike said mildly.
Buffy nodded a little too enthusiastically, glad to have some safe topic. “I followed those soldiers down. I was hoping you could fill us in on a bit more of it. Like how you got yourself captured to begin with and who the hell are they?”
“Ah,” Spike said. His face hardened. “So, what do I get for this information?”
“Taking care of you, rescuing you and feeding you not enough?” Giles said.
“The way I see it,” Spike said. “I jus’ got liberated from one lot of enemy jus’ to be held up by another. How do I know you won’ stake me when you get what you want?”
Giles frowned and was ready to launch into Spike but Buffy stepped in. “I didn’t have to take you from there,” Buffy said. “I risked my life, but I didn’t do it for a debt. You’re right, we’re not on the same side. You don’t want to help us? Fine – you can go. But we don’t know where the soldiers are lately, and we don’t know anything about how to stop them. You already got yourself caught once, and I don’t plan on running in there again blind.”
She and Spike stared each other down. It was the first real time Buffy had looked at Spike. Sure, she had glared at him, looked him down in the heat of battle or calculated his moves. She hadn’t looked at him and seen the deeper shades of blue in his eyes, or the fear he was trying to smother. He was so transparent when she looked she felt startled.
“Soldiers,” Spike said. “Some government sods. They got fancy demon hunting weapons and lots of science-types.”
“How many people?”
“No idea,” Spike said. “Lot of em come and go. Lot of ‘em wearing masks and the like.”
Giles took notes and Buffy coaxed Spike along. He was reluctant and hostile at first, drip feeding them bites of information, but it was Spike and he liked the sound of his voice and it wasn’t long until he was holding court. He had come back into Sunnydale a few weeks before – he was careful not to reveal what had brought him back but that he had ‘business’. He was out looking for a bite to eat when he got nabbed at the back of the Bronze. They had starved him until they fed him drugged blood and then they started operating. Here Spike clammed up and the muscle in his jaw ticked.
“That’s enough for now,” Buffy said. “You want more blood?”
“You got anything that’s not bloody pig?” Spike said.
“We don’t have human,” Buffy said. “And it goes without saying that none of us are on the menu while you’re here.”
Spike grumbled but didn’t fight. Buffy suspected the grumbly was purely an act for them. Giles got him more blood and he slurped it down like a man starved. Buffy followed Giles into the kitchen.
“What are we doing with him?” Giles said. “I think now that he’s lucid we should chain him up in case he tries to attack.”
“No.” Buffy had seen the scarring on his wrists and ankles from bonds. It made her recall her own experience in the mental ward from being bound.
“You really trust Spike?”
“What other options does he have?” Buffy said. “He’s not even properly healed. We’re the only ones helping him, he’s not dumb enough to do anything to jeopardize that.”
Giles’ reservations proved to be unfounded as Spike settled into houseguest life with ease. He happily drank all the blood they got him, unearthed Giles’ TV to watch soaps, and laid about content to make passing comments to the Scoobies during their meet ups about the soldiers. He still didn’t talk about what had happened to him and Buffy wouldn’t let any of them push, shutting down Giles’ passing suggestion to use a truth spell. She had noted that Spike was still mostly skittish and wouldn’t relax when people were around even without any of them threatening him. He didn’t sleep much, and Giles had told Buffy that in the middle of the night he sometimes found Spike at the windows looking out into the dark.
One night when Spike was all but healed save some bruising, Buffy brought over old boots she’d found in a thrift store. “Want to come patrol?”
Spike eyed the boots. “Why?”
“Thought you might want to get out of the apartment.”
Spike grumbled but took the boots. He was dressed in some old jeans and another of Giles’ soft sweaters, and Buffy noticed that he had been careful to layer himself. They went to Restfield and walked in silence under the moonlight between the familiar gravestone. It was close to Halloween and the demonic activity was starting to settle down in preparation for evil’s night off.
Spike walked with his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual but his shoulders were tensed and his eyes darted like prey.
“You don’t have to tell us about what happened to you,” Buffy said. “But if there’s anything that can help us...”
“You know what happened,” Spike said flatly. “They tortured me.”
Buffy didn’t flinch but the knot in her stomach she had been carrying around since she had found Spike, only got tighter. Buffy had tried to talk to Willow about it all but words and Buffy were never not un-mixy and her friend had been patient and quiet as Buffy fumbled her way through her twisted mind. She couldn’t connect all of it: how she had felt seeing Spike in that cell, that instinct deep inside of her that told her to find him. The way that she had seen Spike and that feeling she had never shaken since the night he had stepped out of the shadows in the alley way.
“We can talk about it, “Buffy said. “Or-“
“Rather kill something,” Spike said.
A fledgling came tearing up from the fresh dug earth and Buffy stopped herself from leaping. She watched as Spike’s coiled frame sprung and collided with the fledge, going down in a tangle of limbs. She watched him move, the way he danced in his fights, the way he improvised and used his lean strength and instinct. But she could also see the rage this time, the furious way he tore at his opponent with none of the sardonic joy.
When the dust settled Spike was panting unnecessarily.
“Did it help?” Buffy said.
Spike cracked his neck. “Little bit.” He looked at the sky as he spoke. “They put something in my head. Woke up on the operating table.”
Spike started walking back towards the gates.
-
They didn’t have medical equipment to do a scan but Willow improvised a spell to detect foreign objects in the body. Giles sat in a circle with her while the others watched from a safe distance. Spike looked sick, he was hunched up after having said his piece on how much he disliked magic. Buffy felt jittery just watching him and before they could start the spell she sat herself down in the circle with Spike and took his hands. He didn’t protest but he relaxed enough to unclench his jaws. Willow started chanting without comment.
Buffy felt a prickling warmth rush through her body like her insides had dipped into a bath. Spike shuddered but didn’t move. Willow was the first to open her eyes. “Oh. There’s something in his head. At the base, it’s like a spider with all these tangled wires.” She frowned. “I don’t know what it’s for but it’s buried deep, right into the nervous system…”
Willow let the spell break. Buffy and Spike were still clasping hands.
“What if it’s a tracker?” Xander said.
“The soldiers would have come by now,” Giles said.
“We could do some tests?” Willow said.
“No bloody experiments,” Spike snapped. He wrenched his hands from Buffy’s and got up, stalking out of the apartment to go smoke in the courtyard.
“Probably shouldn’t mention science-stuff,” Oz said.
“I’ll talk to him.” Buffy got up but Giles stopped her.
“Perhaps give him a minute,” Giles said. “It’s still daylight, he’s not going anywhere.”
Buffy relented and they all got up and started their new routine of making dinner. Or Giles and Willow made dinner while the rest of them pretended to help or cleared away the books, or in Oz’s case, chose their dinner music. Buffy hovered near the doorway but Spike didn’t return until they were handing around plates of stir-fry. Buffy had heated his blood and left it on the coffee table. Spike sat on the floor, all seats having been taken, but his side was pushed up against Buffy’s leg and she relaxed.
“So,” Willow said. “What’re we doing for Halloween then?”
“Halloween?” Xander said.
“There’s a frat party that’s pretty good,” Oz said around a bite of carrot. “They do a haunted maze to the actual party. I’m lending them some gear for music. Could be the kind of nonsense-fun we need.”
“I don’t know,” Buffy said. “My one night off a year from monsters to go to a lame-o haunted maze?”
“Come on,” Willow needled. “We haven’t done anything stupid college-y yet. My last roommate practically had orgies and all we’ve done is help keep Sunnydale safe.”
Buffy glanced down at Spike who appeared not to be paying attention. She wasn’t about to say it outside of Willow, but she really didn’t like the idea of leaving Spike alone for a night. Not that he ever seemed happy to see her, mostly indifferent. When he didn’t come patrol with her she sat and watched bad sitcoms and mostly not talk. She had a stupid, strong urge to not let him feel…lonely.
“It’s the one night off for evil,” Xander said. “I’m even gonna come. We can’t do a haunted maze without the Buffster!”
Buffy chewed her lip. “Fine, fine.”
The gang cheered and she couldn’t help but laugh a little.
-
“What’re you bloody wearing?”
Buffy looked down at her Little Red Riding Hood costume. “It’s for the party.”
“I gathered.” Spike’s scared eyebrow was hitched high. He was on the couch watching a black and white monster film which Buffy was standing in front of.
“What’s your costume?” Buffy asked. “Human boy?”
Spike snorted. “Yep.”
Giles’ TV was so old you had to turn it off by a dial on the set. Spike made loud noises of British protest when Buffy did just that. “Get up,” Buffy said. “We have a party we’re late for.”
“’m not going to your insipid college party.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Buffy said brightly.” Come on.”
Spike didn’t move. “’m good.”
Buffy pouted and she saw Spike’s lip twitch. Bingo. “Giles doesn’t want you to vamp-out and scare the kiddies.”
Spike twisted around to look at Giles in his sombrero and poncho. “Why not?”
“Please go, Spike,” Giles said. “I can do with one night off vampire-sitting.”
“I promise you can scare one gross college boy,” Buffy said. “OK?”
“Can I eat one?” Spike said.
“No.”
“This is just ridiculous.”
Spike didn’t wear a costume but he did grumble and tail behind Buffy. It was like having a little grumpy shadow. They met up with Willow, Oz and Xander at the end of the block.
“Bond, James Bond,” Xander said in answer to his rented tux costume. “It’s insurance in case we turn into our costumes again. I’m going for cool secret agent guy.”
“That when you turned into a damsel, luv?” Spike said to Buffy.
Buffy blushed and quickly changed the subject to Willow’s costume.
“Oh yeah, I invited Anya but she’s having some trouble finding a scary costume so she’s just gonna meet us there,” Xander said as they headed to the frat house.
“Anya? Former Vengeance demon?” Willow said.
“Yes, ex-demon, now kind-of-my-date girl,” Xander said.
Oz turned to them at the door and smirked. “Let the horrors begin.”
“But Anya isn’t even here yet,” Willow muttered to Buffy.
The frat house was silent when they walked into the lobby, save for the background scare track there was no other guests. “The joints not jumping,” Xander said. “Where is everybody?”
Oz took the lead. “Follow the signs.”
Next to Buffy, Spike was thrumming with energy. “Doesn’t feel right,” Spike said.
Buffy slipped her hand into Spike’s, eyeing the head in the fruit bowl. As they turned their first corner Willow walked into a thick cobweb, squealing and twisting away. “Cobweb! OK, that part was realistic.”
“Frat boys aren’t too obsessed with their cleaning,” Oz said as a skeleton with a blade bounced out at Xander.
“I wasn’t scared,” Xander said. “I was in the spirit.”
Spike snorted. “I can hear your bloody heartrate, whelp.” Buffy elbowed him in the ribs – not too hard, they were newly mended after all.
Than Oz’s eyes widened and he leapt at Willow’s shoulder where the tarantula was crawling. Even Buffy shuddered as Willow gasped and threw herself at Oz.
“Let’s get to the party part of the party,” Buffy said, pulling herself and Spike forward.
Xander eyed their joined hands but didn’t comment, the now standard reaction Buffy had been receiving lately as they dodged whatever it was that was going on. Buffy included. Spike’s nostrils flared and he pulled away from Buffy to inspect a stain on the floor.
“It’s blood,” Spike said.
“Agh,” Xander said. “This is too much.”
Buffy frowned. “Do you hear something?” There was a faint squeaking noise.
“Oh it’s these rented shoes. Patent leather,” Xander said.
“Shh,” Spike hissed. He was looking up.
Reluctantly the group followed his gaze to a ceiling of bats, which swooped down in a dark cloud, racing for the exit. When it cleared Oz picked up a rubber bat.
Spike was tense and thrumming again he almost made the floor vibrate. “There’s something up, Slayer.”
“It could just be tricks?” Xander said. “Some wires….”
“Release me!” A voice bellowed from within the house.
“Or something very, very bad.”
-
Spike and Buffy led the way back to the lobby, but when they arrived the door and stairs were gone.
“This is the way we came in,” Spike said.
Oz jumped up and disconnected the background scream track. “Thanks,” Buffy said.
“I have a neat idea,” Willow said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We looked trapped,” Spike said, his voice was getting more strained. Buffy took his hand again and he squeezed.
“We just gotta find what I’ll have to deal with,” Buffy said taking charge.
“I hear something,” Xander said. “Sounds like a hissing.”
“It’s human,” Spike said and he pulled Buffy along to a closet door.
Inside was a frat boy in a sailor costume, crying and rocking. “I’m sorry,” he hissed. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Chaz,” Oz said and bent down. “What’s happening?”
“Gotta get out,” Chaz moaned.
“What is it?” Buffy snapped.
“It’s alive. It’s alive.”
“What’s alive?” Spike was still holding her hand, it was both distracting and grounding.
“He’s in shock,” Xander said.
Spike yanked Buffy hard to the side, sending her sprawled across the floor. She detangled herself from the hood to see him sparing with a skeleton in a suit. Spike threw a side kick and sent the bones rattling to the floor. A butcher’s knife scuttled across the floor and turned to plastic. Buffy undid the hood and got up but Spike had kicked the now plastic skeleton.
Someone was screaming. Spike flinched and looked around them as the closet door was swiftly shut by Chaz.
“Cowering in a closet seems like a reasonable plan,” Oz said.
The closet door was gone. They all stared at the blank stretch of wall.
Buffy jumped into full Slayer mode. “I’m going to find my way up the stairs in case there’s any people left. You guys find a way out and use it.”
“’m coming, Slayer,” Spike said, already opening her basket for a stake.
“No,” Buffy said. She wasn’t so obtuse to know that Spike was having issues after the being-locked-in-a-torture-lab thing. “You get out. Go back to Giles’.”
“Not a chance I’m leaving you.” He glared back at her, challenging her in such an old-Spike-way that Buffy almost laughed in relief.
“Fine.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Willow said.
Buffy pulled out a small crossbow. “We need help to figure this out.”
“We’re not running,” Willow said.
“I can’t do my job if I’m worry about all of your safeties.”
“You’re letting Spike come with you,” Willow said. “He’s the one you’ve been moddle codding and treating like glass, but he can come?”
“Oi,” Spike snaped and Oz edged in front of Willow.
“Being the Slayer doesn’t automatically make you boss,” Willow snapped.
“You might find it does,” Spike said.
“I can do a simple incantation spell to guide us,” Willow said. “I can get us out. It’s a conjuring spell to get us a guide to light the way.”
“Not too fussed about all the magics,” Spike said. “I can lead us towards humans.”
“Are you serious?” Xander snapped. “You’re going to listen to the murderer who, oh yeah, kidnapped Willow and I last year!”
“I didn’t want to come,” Spike growled. “And I sure as hell ain’t getting killed watching your backs.”
Spike stalked off into the hall they had circled back from. Buffy huffed a sigh. “Can we all just chill? We need to get out, not tear each other apart in the process. Whatever is doing this is already doing a good enough job.”
Buffy wheeled around and saw only Willow and Oz. “Xander?”
“Huh,” Oz said. “Xander? I swear he was right here.”
“Great,” Buffy said. “I need to find Xander before he gets himself hurt. Can you guys…?”
“Find the PTSD Vampire? On it,” Oz said. He took Willow’s arm and led her after Spike.
“So typical of him,” Buffy seethed and took off in the other direction. “Xander?”
-
All the hallways were creepy replicas of themselves. Buffy couldn’t feel any of her normal demon tinglies but she also couldn’t hear or sense anyone. She was trying to squash her panic and instinct to find Spike and concentrate on finding Xander and any other stranded party guests. Thoughts of the rescued Vampire she was moddle coddling was a way that only led to things she wasn’t ready to deal with.
That day, Willow had asked Buffy if there was developments on the ‘Spike thing’, her delicate term for the confusing mess of feelings Buffy couldn’t unpick. Buffy had huffed. “I’m taking a holiday from dealing,” Buffy had said.
Nothing like a mysterious supernatural event to help on that front.
“Help,” Willow shouted.
Buffy tried a door but it was locked. But then Willow’s calls came from down the hall. Buffy ran but the next door was locked as well. She barged it with her shoulder and it swung open, depositing her into the air.
Buffy landed with a thud on her back in a cell. “Basement,” Buffy groaned, trying to sit up.
“Secure the hostile.”
Buffy looked into the dark corner. There was the soldiers in their full gear, masks down. They held rifles at their sides. “It’s too late,” one of them said. “You’re too late.”
And she saw Spike was kneeling in front of them in his black trench coat. He was wearing a blindfold, arms tied behind his back. She couldn’t see his eyes, and more than anything that terrified her.
“No.” Buffy scrambled up. “Let him go!”
One of the soldiers had a stake poised at Spike’s heart. “You can’t love what doesn’t have a soul. You’re wrong. You’re made wrong.”
Buffy was fighting her way to them but the floor was moving under her. Arms burst from the ground, clawing at Buffy, trying to drag her back under with them.
“Spike! Spike!” Buffy tore herself away, ran, tripped and slammed into Spike’s chest, sending them both through an open door way.
And Buffy fell in alone into the attic party room.
-
The party goers were crowded around the edges, cowering under the force of the fear and torment. And Oz was there, hiding his face as Willow ran in, waving her arms erratically. When Oz and Buffy managed to calm Willow Buffy turned to them.
“Where’s Spike?” Buffy said.
“We couldn’t find him,” Oz said. “We got separated, I…I…” Oz looked hopelessly at Willow.
Xander was rocking and muttering to himself in the corner. All of Buffy’s fear and anxiety was coursing through her and barrelled out. “What is wrong with you?” She snapped at Xander.
“You can see me?” Xander said. “Oh thank God.”
“House separated us,” Oz said. “It wanted to scare us.”
“And we all ended up here,” Buffy said. “The house scared us into coming here.”
Xander nodded to the floor, to some kind of red, white and black symbol. “I saw them painting that. Copied it out of…” he looked around and spied the book. “That.”
Willow grabbed it up. “I think it’s Gaelic.”
“Can you translate?” Buffy was looking around the room. She couldn’t see Spike still. Had he made it out and done a runner on them?
Willow started giving a lose translation of the summoning spell. It was feeding on fear, trying to summon itself.
“If our fears are feeding it we need to stop,” Buffy said. “We can get everyone out of here and cut off its supply.”
There was a banging from within the house as a door flew open and Spike stumbled in. “Bloody hell.”
Relief coursed through Buffy strong enough she could have sagged onto the ugly, stupid summoning symbol. She threw herself at the Vampire. “You idiot! Where have you been?”
“O’right,” Spike fended her off. “Got lost lookin’ for you.” He looked at the symbol they were gathered around. “What’s this then?”
“Fear demon,” Oz said.
“Course it is.” Spike dug in his jeans pockets and came up with a pack of cigarettes. “What’re we fighting?” Spike took the book from Willow. “Gachnar. Bloody hell. Affects the reality of the house but it’s not manifested yet.”
“Can I fight it?” Buffy said.
“Never seen him in action,” Spike said. “Fancy we could take him together. Look, here’s the directions to kill it. Blah blah, destroying the symbol-“
Before Spike could finish, Buffy had strode forward and punched out the centre of the mark.
“Is not a way and brings the beast forward. Buffy.”
Mystic light and smoke began to swirl and the screams curdled the air as a miniature demon came forth from the depths of fear.
Spike blew smoke at him. “He’s a wee blighter, ain’t he?”
“I am your worst nightmare,” the demon squeaked.
“Aww, he’s so little,” Willow cooed.
“You got it, Slayer?” Spike drawled.
“Got it.” Buffy stomped down hard on their Big Bad, or Little Bad. “Ew.”
-
When they got outside they found Anya in a bunny costume looking put out that the door wasn’t there. They reassembled at Giles’ around his untouched candy bowl to fill her and Giles in on the course of the evening. Spike was drinking blood and watching the Scoobies and Anya gorge themselves until Willow was ill.
Buffy nudged Spike in the side. “You alright?”
Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. “Were you scared for me, Slayer?”
Buffy poked him. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing,” Spike said and she could tell enough now to know he was being evasive. “Never going to another of your lots bloody parties. What happened to keggers and drunk chits making out?”
“Pig.” Buffy gave him one of the coveted big Peanutbutter Cups.
“Ta.”
Their fingers brushed and Buffy did not shiver.
“Why were you so late?” Xander asked Anya once he had gotten over her choice of “scary” costume.
“I had the strangest run in with some soldiers,” Anya said. “I thought they were in costume and I saw them following a young man in a demon mask. Very unrealistic mask might I add.”
Spike tensed up.
“Where was this?” Buffy said.
“Not far from the frat party,” Anya said. “I got a bad feeling. Are the military always like this in this country?”
“No.” Buffy pressed herself closer to Spike. “Sounds like I’ll be doing some soldier boy sweeps.”
She caught Spike’s eye and she felt that feeling of really looking, of seeing the depths and contours of the colour of his eyes.
God, she had so much to deal with not dealing with.