|Can't Buy Me Love
We Gotta Get Outta This Place
Spike and Buffy have been shot with tranq darts … what do Bess’ captors want with them? Can they get out of this place?
Edmond “Eddie” Giles Rosenberg-Maclay born March 11, 2010
Joshua "JJ" Harris was born on April 21st, 2004
The twins (Danielle Dawn, "Dani" and William Rupert, "Billy") were born on February 12th, 2004.
Annie was born on February 14th, 1999
Spike and Buffy were married in February 1999
Buffy was born January 19th, 1981
William/Spike was turned by Dru in
All the Potentials were endowed with full Slayer power in February 2003.
Buffy and Spike learned of the other dimensions and got the memories from the 'Rome' Universe in May, 2003.
The ‘Wish-World’ lasted from January 19th, 2005 to January, 16th 2010.
We Gotta Get Outta This Place, The Animals
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
|Rating / Warnings:
NC17. Content is only suitable for mature adults. Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.
(earlier that day) Saturday, April 24th, 2010, 5:30pm, Council Headquarters, London:
(about eight hours before Spike and Buffy find the dungeon)
Bess moved to the back of her cell and crouched down as the men came down the corridor with their torches, crosses, and chains, just as she’d done a million times before, just as they had trained her to do lest she face the horrors of the blue room. Three men stood guard as one unlocked her cell door, then they shackled her wrists and ankles and led her down the long hallway to the white room. She went without struggle or protest … it really was the only diversion from the boredom in this place.
She was surprised to find the room empty … no other vamp was brought with her into the room. The men sat her down on one of the tables and backed up, forming a protective circle around her, just as the door opened again and another man stepped in. She’d never seen the new man before … he wasn’t a vampire … he looked … he looked like her Watcher – but that would be impossible, certainly Harold Travers was long dead.
“Do you know me, young lady?” the man asked as he stepped closer to her, but not so close that the men surrounding her couldn’t intervene if she attacked.
Bess shook her head.
“My name is Quentin Travers … I believe you knew my great, great grandfather, Harold,” the man informed her.
Bess’ brows knit and she nodded her head. Was this it? Was this the end of the road for her? The great, great grandson of her Watcher had come to exact revenge on her for letting him down, for her failure as a Slayer. That seemed somehow ironic … her own father had just given her some hope that this nightmare would end … the boy had assured her that the good vampire always kept his promises, and now it would be too late.
The man opened a manila folder and began leafing through the documents and reading aloud. “Elizabeth Anne Weatherford from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,” he began. “Born in London … Elizabeth Anne Weckerly,” he read further, looking up from the paper and meeting her eyes.
“Your parents think they’re quite clever, I’d imagine,” he continued, his voice scornful. “Asking for a meeting to discuss issues they’re having with the Key. Don’t they think I read those reports from the field? There are no issues to discuss regarding their eldest daughter … Did they think I wouldn’t be suspicious? Did they think they could fool me?”
Bess watched the man as he got angrier and angrier, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Was her father coming for her? Was that was this was about?
“They weren’t very bright … naming you after your mother. It made the search for the real purpose of their trip almost too easy,” he continued.
“M-my mother’s name was Wanda…” Bess pointed out.
Travers shook his head. “You, my dear, are an enigma; a freak of nature and magicks … you seem to have three mothers. Your adopted mother, Wanda; your birth mother, Cecily; and the woman whose legacy you harbor … whose blood runs through your veins … or did – Elizabeth Anne Summers … Buffy.”
Bess shook her head, her brows furrowed as she tried to follow what he was saying. Buffy … Buffy … she’d heard that name before. Then she remembered, the strange woman posing as a nursemaid from America … she’d stayed less than a day. The woman had shared her candy-cane sweetbreads with her and Anne. Buffy …
“No… no that’s wrong,” Bess told him. “Buffy was … mother said she was nothing more than a harlot, a charlatan looking for a free meal and a warm bed. I don’t know who does your research for you, but you should look into recruiting someone new…”
Travers smiled at her ruefully. “I can assure you, my dear – DNA does not lie … and you have her smart mouth. You are the product of an unseemly liaison between a rogue Slayer and a dirty beast of a demon named William the Bloody … William Weckerly … Spike. And now, my dear, you are what we call … bait.
“Knowing them, we should be in the midst of a touching family reunion very soon …” Travers assured her ruefully.
The next morning: Sunday, April 25th, 2010, 8:30am, London:
Buffy moaned in pain, wishing to God that whoever was shaking her would just stop already.
“Wake up, my dear … You’ve slept quite long enough.”
Buffy opened her eyes slowly; a bright light stabbed between her lids straight to her brain and she clinched them tightly closed again. “What’s going on?” she moaned, trying to reach her head with her hands, but her hands were shackled – then she remembered the dungeon and the tranq darts and Spike screaming that it was a trap.
She opened her lids again just slightly, squinting and turning her head away from the blinding light, as she tried to focus on who was talking.
“You have become much too predictable, my dear, Buffy,” Quentin advised her as he leaned forward and slapped at her cheeks lightly to wake her up.
Buffy growled and lurched at him, but she was shackled hand and foot to an immovable chair.
“There now … I believe we have her attention …” Quentin droned, backing up a step.
“You better let me go or you won’t live to regret this, Quentin,” Buffy raged at him, finally fully aware of her surroundings. She was in the dungeon, in one of the cells, the Council Head stood in front of her. There were other men she didn’t recognize in the cell, two on either side of her. Buffy strained against the shackles and chains, but they weren’t giving.
“You, my dear, are in no position to make demands,” Quentin advised her with a self-satisfied smile.
“What do you want?” Buffy spat at him, still struggling against her restraints.
“You. Well … until you’ve fulfilled your destiny, anyway,” he told her, looking down at her abdomen. “In a few months the daughter you are carrying will fulfill the Santo Veritas Prophecy … and she will be ours. Then it will simply be a matter of time before your own pre-ordained purpose will be realized.”
“You’ll never get my baby … you can kill me … you can kill Spike, but you can’t kill all our friends – they’ll never let you get away with it!” Buffy threatened, still struggling to get free.
“Your friends will think you dead … you and your unborn child and your demon lover, I’ll see to that. A very tragic and most unfortunate accident; there will be no search for you, there will be no rescue,” he informed her.
“Our friends will never believe that … not without seeing it themselves!” Buffy hissed at him.
“Indeed … they will see it themselves … your jewelry … and even DNA to confirm the identity of the body burned beyond recognition. Trust me, they will believe you quite dead,” Travers assured her calmly, holding up Buffy’s rings and necklace for her to see.
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. Fucking son-of-bitch took her jewelry! Then she finally got her mind to focus past the fact that he’d taken all the jewelry that Spike had ever given her … “What DNA?” Buffy growled back at him.
Quentin looked at one of the men standing next to Buffy and nodded slightly. At the signal, the man pulled back and slammed a tire iron against Buffy's jaw with all this strength. Buffy screamed out in pain as her head rocked and blood filled her mouth. Buffy’s head spun and stars danced in front of her eyes as two of the other men moved up and held her mouth open with a metal speculum. The first man reached into her mouth with a pair of pliers and pulled one of the loosened molars from her jaw … causing her to scream out in pain again when the root of the tooth was ripped out of her flesh and away from the bone.
“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Travers asked dryly as he took the bloody tooth and wrapped it in a handkerchief. Buffy lifted her head and scowled at him as blood poured from her mouth and pain shot from her jaw all the way down her arm and up into her sinuses. Buffy spit blood and saliva as far as she could, covering Travers' face with a spray of red liquid.
“Charming…” Travers intoned, nodding to the man with the tire iron again.
The man swung the iron rod in a wide arc, bringing the metal shaft down with all his strength across the front of her knees. Buffy screamed out and her head dropped down to her chest as excruciating pain shot up and down her legs … she was sure her kneecaps were broken.
“You might as well relax, my dear … you can’t escape those shackles, you can’t escape this dungeon … your fate is sealed,” Travers informed her as he calmly wiped the blood off with a handkerchief. “Your impulsive recklessness has been your downfall, as I always knew it would.
“Please do eat … I’d hate to force feed you, but I can assure you that I can and will,” Travers instructed calmly, waving an arm at a tray of food sitting on a cot near the wall.
“I wish you’d try, Scooter…” Buffy muttered under her breath and braced for another blow, but none came.
Travers chuckled coldly as he dropped her tooth and jewelry in his pocket, then turned and headed down the long corridor and the other men exited her cell and locked the door. When they were certain the cell was secure, one of the men pulled a remote control device from his pocket and pressed a button and the shackles around her wrists and legs fell open. Buffy lunged like a caged lion at the men on the other side of the bars, but couldn’t reach them as they stepped back. Pain shot up from her knees when she moved and she collapsed onto the dirt floor, unable to stand the agony more than a few seconds.
“You’ll all die! You keep following him and you’ll all die!” she threatened, but they just snorted soft laughs and turned to follow their boss out of the dark, dank dungeon.
Buffy growled in anger as she sat with her back against the cell door and looked around at her accommodations. There was the immobile chair she’d been shackled to and a cot, in one corner there was a chamber pot sitting on the floor. On the cot was the tray of food Travers wanted her to eat … fresh fruits, a couple of small boxes of cereal and a carafe of milk. Buffy dragged herself on her butt over to the cot and took the tray and flung it, along with all the food, at the bars of the cell. The metal tray hit with a loud clatter, sending the food scattering out into the corridor.
Spike! Spike answer me! she called through their bond, but got no response. She knew he wasn’t dusted … she could feel it in her soul. She continued calling out to him until finally she got a groggy response from her husband.
Spike! Where are you? Are you ok?
Dungeon … yeah, just … I think drugged… he managed to reply before falling silent again.
Buffy pulled herself up onto the cot and sat with her back against the cold, damp wall and examined her kneecaps, still spitting blood out of her mouth, her tongue involuntarily going to the blank spot in her jaw where the tooth had been. She sighed heavily and leaned back against the hard wall … her kneecaps didn’t appear to be broken, just bloodied and bruised badly. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around the small bulge in her abdomen and willed herself not to cry. Don’t give the bastards the satisfaction! she admonished herself.
She needed to think … she needed to figure a way out of this. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. If everything had gone well with Olivia, Giles wouldn’t even try to contact them until Monday morning. The only ones that might miss them before that would be the kids and Faith when they didn’t call in, but still – how would anyone even know where to begin looking for them? And if the London police called and said there had been a fiery crash and provided them with a burnt body with her jewelry on it … a couple of well-placed bribes or called-in favors showing a DNA match from that one tooth to hers … But how would they explain Spike’s disappearance? They would probably say he dusted … did they not know about the Gem? Apparently not. Buffy rested her head in her hands and tried to breathe … that would be the tip-off … Giles, Faith, Willow, Tara … they’d all know the story was bogus … they’d know to look for them.
Buffy heard men working down the hallway later that day, no doubt fixing the doors that she and Spike had worked so hard to open. She tried to relax so she could think and she kept trying to contact Spike, but never got anything back from him. She tried to use her legs … she didn’t want them to get so stiff that she couldn’t walk at all … she may need to walk, or run or kick the shit out of someone. Her knees had already turned purple and were swollen about three sizes larger than normal – she really needed ice and ibuprofen … but she had neither. Buffy walked slowly, gingerly across the small cell then back to the cot and collapsed back down. She massaged the pain and cramps from her thighs and calves and got up and did it again … over and over, trying to keep loose, just in case …
Buffy was about to get back up when she heard someone coming down the hall – she had no idea how long it had been, it seemed like hours and hours … it may have only been a couple, but it seemed like several. She took a deep breath and stayed seated on the cot; she tried to look unworried and unhurt as the footsteps neared.
“You didn’t eat your breakfast,” Quentin observed as he kicked an apple down the corridor.
“Wasn’t hungry,” Buffy sneered at him.
“Perhaps this will whet your appetite ...” Travers intoned dryly, then turned to one of the men behind him and ordered, “Get the girl…”
Buffy watched as the four men went further down the hallway then soon came back dragging Bess, shackled at the hands and feet. They stopped in front of Buffy’s cell and, as Buffy watched in shock, the 'tire iron man' from earlier lifted the girl’s dress and pressed a cattle prod against her upper thigh. Bess screamed out in pain, involuntarily morphing into the demon as her whole body shook violently from the jolt.
“STOP! STOP IT!” Buffy screamed at them, jumping up from her seat and reaching through the bars of her cell to try and stop them.
Quentin waved his hand at the man and he pulled the cattle prod away from Bess’ flesh, leaving a large scorch mark on her creamy, white skin. The men dropped Bess and she collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain and crying … she’d been good, she’d done as she was told, why were they doing this to her?
“Now … you can eat or I can have our Mr. Weatherby continue … it’s really up to you, Miss Summers,” Quentin informed her, taking a tray of food from one of the other men’s hands and holding it up to the bars of Buffy’s cell.
When Buffy hesitated, Quentin looked at Weatherby and nodded and the hired gun moved Bess’ dress to the side again and pressed the electrified prod against her bare buttocks and Bess began to scream again and convulse in pain.
“NO! I’m eating … I’m eating!” Buffy screamed, reaching through the bars and picking up half a sandwich and stuffing it into her mouth as quickly as she could.
Quentin waved a hand at Weatherby and he pulled the prod away, leaving another nasty burn on Bess’ flesh. “Now then, I believe we understand each other. You will behave … you will eat and drink everything offered to you or Mr. Weatherby will be happy to demonstrate more of his instruments of persuasion for you,” Quentin told her smugly as Buffy continued to stuff food into her mouth angrily.
Buffy washed down the sandwich with a glass of milk as she watched them drag Bess away. She heard a cell door open and the shackles being removed from the girl’s hands and wrists, then the door slammed closed again. When all the food and drink was gone from the tray, Quentin handed it back to one of the other men that was with him and straightened his vest. “And to think I was afraid you couldn’t be trained… Mr. Giles apparently didn’t use the proper techniques,” the Council Head muttered as he turned and all the men headed back down the hallway and out of the dungeon.
When they had gone, Buffy leaned on the bars, trying to see where they’d taken Bess, but she couldn’t see very far down the hallway. “Bess?” she called. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry …”
“Why? Why did they do that? I did as they said… I never ask questions and try not to sass…” her daughter asked, the tears and pain still evident in her shaky voice.
“It’s my fault … I’m so sorry,” Buffy repeated.
“Who are you?” Bess questioned softly.
“Buffy … I’m Buffy … and I’m so sorry.”
Bess lay on the cold, wet, dirt floor of her cell and curled into a ball. Buffy … the name echoed in her mind. The woman whose blood runs in your veins … whose legacy you harbor…
“What are you?” Bess whispered, almost too low for Buffy to hear.
“I’m a Slayer,” Buffy answered, still trying to see down the hallway. “I … Bess, I know Wanda and I know what happened to you and … I know this is hard to believe but …I’m your mother and I love you. We came to get you out … we’re not doing very well on that point just now,” Buffy admitted, rolling her eyes.
“Do you know the good vampire? Is he with you?” Bess questioned.
“The good vampire? You mean Spike? Yes … well, no … he was, but I don’t know where he is now,” Buffy stammered. “We came together to get you ... he’s … he’s my husband, Bess.”
“Oh, I didn’t … I didn’t know. He promised he’d get me out…” Bess whispered.
Buffy smiled sadly and sighed. “There’s nothing to worry about then, he always keeps his promises…”
When Quentin and his bodyguards came with her supper, Buffy began to eat without hesitation, but she ate slowly … talking with the Council Head between bites, trying to get more information.
“So,” Buffy began as she swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “I guess Wes told you the real reason we were coming…” she pondered aloud.
Quentin considered her a moment then sniffed indignantly. “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will be relieved of his duties as a Watcher shortly,” he informed her. “He’s a disgrace to the Council and a disgrace to his family name. Miss Lehane will be assigned a new Watcher and transferred back to Cleveland thereafter.”
“If Wes didn’t tell you, how did you know we’d be looking for Bess?” Buffy questioned, taking a bite of sausage from the plate and grimacing as she bit down on the wrong side of her jaw.
“Do you really think me that big a fool, Miss Summers?” Travers questioned.
Buffy shrugged. “You’ve never shown me anything before now that would make me think otherwise.”
“Indeed, well, it seems you’ve learned your lesson too late, my dear. Play with fire enough and you will get burned.”
Buffy snorted softly and rolled her eyes. She’d love to get him alone for just one minute. “Where’s Spike?” Buffy asked, changing the subject.
“I’d like to see him.”
“I believe we’d already established that you are in no position to make demands,” Quentin reminded her.
“What are you going to do with him?” Buffy pressed further, taking smaller and smaller bites of her meal.
“He’ll be afforded the same privileges as our other guests … for a while,” Travers assured her … which wasn’t really assuring at all.
“What exactly are you doing with all these vamps? Still trying to figure out the wood, fire, sunlight, and beheading quartet of destruction? It’s not really that complicated,” Buffy pointed out. "Even Slayers pick it up, eventually."
Quentin smiled but was clearly not amused. “If you must know, we are working on creating a new breed of Slayer … one with more demonic power, enhanced vision and hearing, increased speed and agility … a Super Slayer, if you will.”
Buffy thought back to what Spike had told her about what happened in the white room as she picked at the food on the tray. “So you’re trying to breed vamps with … turned Slayers? Is that what the spells are for? Trying to make the eggs and seed alive?”
Quentin looked slightly surprised by her guess and her mention of breeding and spells, but recovered quickly. “Indeed … we’re quite close, actually. And with your prophesied daughter, we shall be unstoppable.”
“About that prophecy … what did you call it? Veri … something … What’s up with that?” Buffy questioned.
“I believe your dinner is getting cold,” Quentin gave her a saccharine smile. “You should eat.”
Buffy sighed … apparently he was done playing her game of Twenty Questions. She finished the rest of the sausage and potatoes and drank the milk … she was already getting tired of milk … she’d kill for a Tab right about now.
“Can I eat the apple later? I’m kinda full and my jaw hurts…” Buffy asked, picking up the granny smith apple from the tray.
Quentin nodded his agreement and handed the tray back to one of his lackeys. “Good night, Miss Summers … pleasant dreams.”
Buffy … Spike moaned to her through their bond several hours later, waking her from a restless, painful sleep.
Spike! Are you ok? Are you hurt? Where are you?
Spike rubbed at his head and eyes, trying to stop the throbbing and get his eyes to focus … everything seemed blurry and was still swaying slightly as he tried to stand up. He reached out and grabbed onto the bars of his cell to steady himself as he waited for the spinning in his head to stop ... the throbbing wasn't going away.
In the dungeon, I reckon … can’t see much … other cells across the way, he sent back after a few moments. Where are you? Are you alright? Did you get out?
Buffy snorted softly. No … I’m in the dungeon too. Spike, they want the baby … it’s some kind of prophecy … Santo Veritas, have you ever heard of it?
Spike shook his head as he thought, then remembered that she couldn’t actually see him. No … Veritas … Veritas means truth … she was a goddess of truth in Roman mythology.
Buffy went on to tell him everything that had happened and what she’d learned from Quentin about Wes and Faith, and what they were trying to do with the vamps and turned Slayers they had as prisoners.
Sick bastards … Spike raged back when she was done. They’ve got a buggering army of Slayers, but can’t be happy with that, can they? No … gotta have a bloody Super Slayer and our littlest bit… what the bloody hell for?
Buffy sighed, she wished she knew the answer to that.
Spike … how are we gonna get out of here? I can’t budge these damn bars at all …
I’m workin’ on that, pet, Spike sent back, trying to sound assuring. In fact, he had no idea how they’d get out of here, and if all their friends thought they were dead and didn’t even look for them, as Quentin had told Buffy … well, that didn’t really help his confidence any either. He wasn’t sure that the Council didn’t know about the Gem, after all, Wes and Faith knew about it. Even if it wasn't Wes that had tipped them off, there's no guarantee that the Gem hadn't been mentioned at some point over the last years. Travers may have some other story concocted to explain Spike’s demise …
Work faster … We gotta get outta this place. I don’t think I can go another day without caffeine or chocolate …
Spike snorted a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. Leave it to Buffy to make him smile while locked in a dungeon with no hope of escape.
We Gotta Get Outta This Place, The Animals
In this dirty old part of the city
Now my girl you're so young and pretty
Watch my daddy in bed a-dyin'
He's been workin' so hard, yeah
We gotta get out of this place
Now my girl you're so young and pretty
Watch my daddy in bed a-dyin'
I've been workin' too, baby, yeah
We gotta get out of this place
We gotta get out of this place
Believe me baby, I know it baby
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