Season 5. Begins with
‘Spiral’ in the abandoned gas station, and goes far off-canon almost
immediately.
When Dawn makes the ultimate
sacrifice to save her sister, friends, and the world, Buffy’s mind
snaps. When Buffy's friends give up hope of her ever recovering, and become
afraid that she’ll turn violent and uncontrollable, they call in the Council to help.
Fearing what the Council will do, Spike, forgotten and ignored by her
friends, steps in. Will he be able to reach the Slayer when no one else could?
Will he be able to keep her out of the hands of the Council and away
from her ‘helpful’ friends? How much heartbreak, guilt, and failure can
one girl stand before her indestructible spirit finally resigns the
fight and gives up hope?
Thanks to
YOU for reading and especially to those of you who take the time to
email me feedback! Love hearing from everyone! Thanks also to Paganbaby
for taking time out of her hectic life to beta this for me! Her
suggestions ROCK! All mistakes
are mine because I can't stop fiddling right up to the last moment.
Rating / Warnings:
NC17.
Spike/Other.
Main Character Death. Implied Rape. Plenty of angst.
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.
Sometime later...
Buffy snuggled down into the clean, fresh linens and soft
pillow, and sighed contentedly. On some level, she knew it was a dream, but it
was such a lovely one that she was loath to announce it to her subconscious and
possibly end it. She could feel sunlight on her face, warm and tingling, while a
soft breeze tickled her skin, cooling her.
“Buffy?”
Buffy groaned at the sound and pulled the pillow over her
head, covering her ears. Sleep … she just wanted to sleep.
“Buffy, I need you to wake up and take this antibiotic,”
the voice continued. “Your leg was quite damaged. The wound was filled with
debris and appears to be infected.”
Buffy moaned again, clutching at the pillow as it was
pulled away from her head. She blinked her eyes open, resigned to being unable
to recapture the peace and comfort of her dream. She looked around, confused,
trying to figure out where she was. The last thing she remembered had been
collapsing with Joan on the floor at the nurse’s station – she definitely was
not there any longer.
She blinked again and rubbed at her eyes, trying to get her
exhausted brain to begin working again.
“Buffy?” the voice questioned gently.
Buffy pulled her fingers from her eyes and looked up,
squinting against the brightness of the room. “Giles?” A flood of relief washed
over her – he hadn’t been killed with the rest of the Council after all. Her old
allies were here! She had help. Everything would be alright now.
Giles gave her a reassuring smile, reaching one hand out to
touch her arm. “Buffy, thank goodness. We were quite concerned that there was
more damage than we could see.”
She wanted to fly into his arms and hug him, but something
about his demeanor stopped her – plus she wasn't sure just how badly she was
injured and her head was still foggy with exhaustion. She decided to go along
with his casual welcome until she could get a handle on what was going on.
“We?” Buffy asked as she sat up groggily. She was
actually in a bed – a hospital bed – and there was actually sun shining in and
breeze blowing in through a broken window. The sun was low in the sky – what it
just rising or setting? She wasn’t sure. How long had seen been out of it? All
night, at least. Longer, perhaps.
“Here, take this,” Giles ordered, offering Buffy a white
pill and a glass of water. “Antibiotic,” he explained when she only looked at
the medicine.
Buffy frowned, but took the pill. “Who’s ‘we’?” she asked
again after downing the whole glass of water.
“Faith, Angel, Andrew …” he began to list, taking the glass
back from her. “Are you hungry?”
“Andrew?” she questioned. “Starving.”
“Andrew Wells,” Giles replied as he stepped over to a
nearby table and came back with a tray with a bowl of cereal and milk on it.
“Who?”
“Tucker’s younger brother. Remember he loosed the
hell-hounds at the prom? Andrew apparently did something similar with monkeys at
the school play. I admit to not recalling it.”
“Oh.” Buffy furrowed her brow, giving him a questioning
look as he settled the tray on her lap.
“And Faith … got paroled?” Buffy wondered, looking at him
suspiciously.
“Well … in a manner of speaking. She escaped; Angel
assisted her.”
Buffy huffed out a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head.
“Wonderful.”
“We needed help, Buffy – I knew you would come – I told him
you would, but Angel insisted upon retrieving Faith.”
“How did you know I’d come?”
Giles gave her a fatherly smile. “Because it’s who you
are.”
Buffy huffed out a derisive breath, suddenly feeling
petulant. “You have no idea who I
am. Sometimes I wonder if you ever did.”
Giles blanched. “Buffy … I …” he stammered, removing his
glasses and polishing them intently. Finally he looked back up at her. “I’m
terribly sorry that you felt you had to leave Sunnydale. We were all quite
worried … Angel said you were with Spike, but that you did not desire our
assistance.
“Are you … did he …” Giles cleared his throat
uncomfortably. “Are you quite alright?”
Buffy couldn’t decide whether to be angry with him or just
feel pity for her former Watcher. “I’m fine. We’re fine. He didn’t kidnap me or
hurt me, if that’s what you thought – I went with him. You were gonna turn me
over to the Council.”
“Well, yes … I … we did discuss it.”
“You did more than discuss it!” Buffy accused, suddenly not
hungry any longer, or relieved to see him as her brain began to focus more
sharply and old, emotional wounds were ripped open. “You called them. They found
me! How did they find me?”
Giles seemed surprised by this news. “I … wasn’t aware they
had. No one ever told me. In fact, it wasn’t long after that … well … the
Council, as such, is gone, Buffy.”
Buffy snorted derisively. “Boo-fucking-hoo.”
Giles recoiled at her harshness. “The whole building was
blown up by terrorists. It was a tragic loss of life. Many good men and women–”
“How did they find me?” Buffy demanded again, cutting him
off.
Giles looked at her a moment – her eyes were hard, her
mouth set in a stubborn line, keeping all her chaotic emotions locked inside. “I
would assume they would’ve used the same means they used to find any Slayer or
Potential.”
Buffy pursed her lips, setting the tray aside, food
uneaten, and swinging her legs off the bed, preparing to stand up. “We have
talismans to mess up locator spells.”
Giles raised his brows. “I see. Yes, well … that explains
why neither Willow nor I couldn’t locate you, but it wouldn’t have stopped the
Council. Their magic is … was quite … powerful – ancient, in fact. A
talisman would not have counteracted it, not for long at any rate.”
Buffy winced when she put weight on her injured leg,
lifting it up off the floor immediately. “Shit! How bad is this?” she asked,
looking down. Someone had cut the leg of her jeans off at the knee, cleaned her
leg up, and applied a bandage to the wound.
“We were able to get the shrapnel out and suture the worst
of it. As I said, it appears to be infected. There was a good bit of tissue
damage, as well,” Giles explained, reaching for her arm to help steady her on
one leg.
“Perhaps you should rest a while longer,” he suggested.
“I need to check on Joan,” Buffy retorted, testing her leg
more gingerly, lifting it and putting it back down until she could get
accustomed to the pain.
“Joan?” Giles questioned.
Buffy frowned. “The Bot … BuffyBot.”
“Oh, yes. It was …”
“She,” Buffy corrected.
“Pardon?”
“Joan is a ‘she’, not an ‘it’,” Buffy explained.
“Oh, indeed … errr … right. Well, she was quite
damaged. Andrew is seeing to it … errr … her.”
“Who the hell is Andrew?” Buffy demanded, limping for the
door to the room.
“Tucker’s brother,” Giles explained again. “He’s what I
believe you call a ‘geek’ … or perhaps a ‘nerd’,” Giles continued, following
her. “I’m rather confused by the terminology, but he seemed to know how to
repair … her.”
Buffy scowled. “Where?”
Giles waved a hand down the hallway to the left. “Operating
Suite One.”
Buffy hurried her painful, half-hopping steps, following
the signs that pointed to the cluster of operating suites. She burst in through
the doors of Suite One without knocking.
The Bot was on her stomach on the operating table, her back
exposed. A young man with a soldering gun in his hand, a surgical mask, and
magnifying glasses like a surgeon would wear was leaning over her. He jerked his
head up at the sudden noise; his eyes appeared overly-large behind the glasses,
like a googly-eyed bug.
“Hey! Majorly uncool!” Andrew shrieked as the wires he was
working on smoked and melted.
“What the hell are you doing to her?” Buffy demanded,
limping toward him.
“Mask! You’re going to contaminate my operating room!” he
accused angrily.
Buffy scowled at him, stopping on the other side of Joan,
her arms crossed over her chest angrily. “What are you doing to her?” she asked
again.
“Hey! You’re … her! You’re Buffy, the Slayer of the
Vampyrs,” Andrew announced melodramatically, removing the glasses. “Like Gollum, once a normal, happy
hobbit, living a normal, happy life, she was flung headlong into utter madness
by the circumstances of her destiny. Like Frodo, she left her homeland and
sojourned into the unknown reaches of the universe with her mortal enemy turned vampyr lover to dispel her madness, cast it into the fires of Mount Doom …”
Andrew paused his exposition, frowned as he considered his
tale, then amended matter-of-factly, “Of course, Frodo didn’t go with his vampyr
lover … he went with Samwise Gamgee… although, flinging the madness into the
fires of Mount Doom sort of fits …”
Buffy reached across the Bot’s body and wrapped her fingers
around Andrew’s throat, lifting him up so his toes barely touched the floor. “If
you don’t tell me what you’re doing, I will sojourn you to the unknown reaches
of the universe, one little piece at a time.”
“Buffy,” Giles interrupted, laying a hand on her arm.
“While the silence is most refreshing, I don’t believe he can answer you while
you’re strangling him.”
Andrew squeaked in agreement, his face turning purple.
Buffy released her grip and Andrew dropped back down to his
feet, rubbing at his throat, and looking up at her warily. “I’m fixing her,” he
retorted petulantly.
“Do you know how to fix her?” Buffy asked, glaring
at him.
“Of course! She’s model 2001.BS.S.1, a sentient android,
built to William the Bloody’s specifications by my dear, sweet, late friend
Warren Mears – may he rest in peace,” he added poignantly, folding his hands
beneath his chin as if in prayer, and bowing his head reverently.
“I have all of Warren’s plans … see?” he added, suddenly
brightening and turning to the table behind him. It was covered in what looked
like blueprints and wiring diagrams.
Buffy limped around the operating table and looked at the
papers, then back at Andrew. “Do you know how to read these?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Duh!”
“Has she woken up yet?”
The geek shook his head. “I couldn’t get her to wake up.
None of the standard protocols or keywords worked.”
“Did she get charged? Can you tell if …” Buffy bit her lip
as hot tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back. “Can you tell if her memory
got … booted out.”
Andrew looked at her strangely. “Ummm … do you mean reset …
erased, corrupted?”
“Whatever!” Buffy growled. “Is she still … her?”
Andrew scrunched up his face. “I don’t know. I can’t tell
until she powers up.”
Buffy sighed and walked up to the prone body on the table.
She took a deep breath, laid a hand on the Bot’s shoulder, and leaned down near
her twin’s ear. The word was right on the tip of Buffy’s tongue, but her throat
had constricted with fear that she hadn’t been fast enough to save her friend.
There was only one way to find out. Buffy cleared her throat and closed her
eyes, sending a silent prayer to whoever the patron saint of sentient androids
was.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” she whispered into Joan’s ear.
Buffy could hear drives suddenly whirl to life and Joan’s
eyes blinked several times, as if trying to focus and get her bearings.
“Don’t try to move … I don’t think you can,” Buffy told
her, still leaning down so her friend could see her face.
The Bot blinked a few more times and turned her head from
side to side. “I am not familiar with this location.”
Buffy bit her lip again and nodded, the tightness returning
to her throat. “That’s ok. Do you know me?”
Joan smiled. “You are Buffy. You were previously the
Slayer, but you abdicated the role solely to me. You are now a mother and
homemaker and work part-time in the fast-paced and rewarding food-service
industry.”
A tear rolled down Buffy’s cheek and she laughed as her
fear dwindled. “And … do you remember Spike?”
“Spike is bloody handsome, gives brilliant head, and is a
fantastic shag; he therefore does not have to excel at carpentry, painting, or
refinishing the soddin’ floors.”
“Good Lord…” Giles muttered, removing his glasses and
polishing them briskly.
Buffy laughed harder and hugged Joan’s neck. “You got that
right. Oh, Joan, I thought I’d lost you.”
“How could you lose me when I am right here?”
“No … I mean … I thought maybe … your RAM might’ve … run
off,” Buffy clarified.
“RAM cannot run. I run with my legs.”
“Right – ummm … Joan, this is Andrew,” Buffy stammered to
change the subject to something that might include words she knew how to use.
Buffy moved back and pulled the geek up near Joan’s face so she could see him
from her prone position. “He has your wiring plans and he says he can fix you.
Will it be alright if he tries?”
Joan nodded once. “I will monitor his actions and give
appropriate feedback. If he is incompetent, may I electrocute him?”
“Yes,” Buffy answered without hesitation.
“Hey!” Andrew complained. “Lieutenant Commander Data would
never electrocute someone trying to help him!”
“He wasn’t a Slayer,” Buffy pointed out. “Plus, we’ve been
living with our precious vampyr much too long,” she added, widening her
eyes dramatically, wringing her hands, and saying the ‘our precious’ part like
Gollum talking about that ring in those stupid movies Spike and Joan made her
watch.
Andrew stepped back, awed and wide-eyed. “Oh, Frodo … the
Slayer is a kindred spirit!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fix her and do it right,” Buffy
ordered.
Andrew nodded eagerly.
Buffy laid a hand on the Bot’s shoulder again. “I’ll be
back to check on you in a little bit.”
“Thank you. I will remain here with the poofter until you
return.”
Buffy quirked a brow at her. “You have been hanging
around our precious too long.”
**~**
Out in the hallway, Buffy commandeered a gurney so she
could get off her aching leg. She sat with her good leg tucked under her and her
bad leg straight out, resting on the thin mattress, trying to get it to stop
throbbing.
“Perhaps a pain killer? Demerol?” Giles suggested.
Buffy shook her head. “No, I need to stay sharp … awake.
Maybe just a Tylenol or an aspirin.”
Giles nodded. “Yes, quite. I’ll be right back.”
Buffy closed her eyes as she waited for him to come back,
concentrating on her breathing and trying to calm her jittery nerves and racing
heart. Her leg hurt like a mother. She wondered if all that shrapnel that had
cut into Joan had hurt her as much. She shuddered at the thought. If Joan hadn’t
tossed Buffy off the porch, all that shrapnel would’ve been in Buffy. She
shuddered again.
“Are you certain you are quite alright?” Giles asked when
he returned.
Buffy opened her eyes and nodded. “Fine,” she told him,
taking the pills and another glass of water from him.
“Do you know a super-strong, bad guy preacher named Caleb?”
she asked after she’d taken the pills.
“Unfortunately, we have made his acquaintance, yes,” Giles
affirmed gravely.
“I need to know where he … hangs out – where his lair is.”
Giles’ brows rose. “What on earth for?”
“He has something of mine – I’m going to get it,” Buffy
explained.
“Buffy, perhaps we need to get the others and discuss …”
“He’s dead, Giles. Joan and I killed him. I just need to
know where to look for … the thing … whatever it is.”
Giles’ brows rose further. “You … killed him? Caleb? Are
you certain?”
“Do one-legged ducks swim in circles?”
Giles’ brows furrowed. “Errr … I’m not entirely certain of
the answer to that question.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yes – dead. Totally, 100%, doornail
dead.”
“How in the world…” Giles began to ask.
“Grenade.”
Giles’ mouth dropped open. “Yes, well … I see. I suppose
that would be effective, difficult for him to defend against.”
“You could say that, especially when you stuff it up his
arrogant, self-righteous, misogynic ass,” Buffy spat.
Giles flinched. “You … stuffed it …?”
Buffy roll her eyes and smiled at his discomfort. “Naaaa …
not really. Stuffed it down the front of his pants, though. Preacher go ‘boom’,”
she related, tossing her hands in the air to illustrate. “Unfortunately, some of
the ‘boom’ hit me and Joan, too.”
Giles wrinkled his nose but nodded, looking at her wounded
leg. “I see.”
“So, where do I look?” Buffy asked again as she lowered her
legs and began to slide down off the gurney.
“The old winery north of town,” Giles told her. “But you
are in no shape to go there alone. Even with Caleb gone, the Bringers are
still…”
“Bringers? Are those the Blind Mice?”
Giles gave her a patient smile. “Yes – the Harbingers of
Death … Bringers. I believe we’ve met them, and have discussed this, before.”
Buffy waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, I just couldn’t
remember their names. I kinda zone out when you start in on all the boring
details.”
“Their identity is a ‘boring detail’?”
“Totally. The only relevant thing is: how do I slay them?
But, I think Joan figured that out too,” Buffy divulged.
“Still – there could be quite a large number of them. Let
me get Faith and Angel… they can accompany you,” Giles offered.
“Faith and Angel … two of my very favorite-est and most
trusted friends in the world,” Buffy replied sarcastically. “They can stab me in
the back while the Bringers stab me from the front. It’ll be a stab-a-thon.
Slayer shish-kabob!”
“Buffy, I understand your trepidation,” Giles agreed.
“However, drastic times call for …”
“Drastic bedfellows?” Buffy interjected sardonically.
Giles sighed. “Indeed.”
Buffy looked up and down the empty halls of the hospital,
thinking. “You never told me how you found us here,” Buffy said, changing the
subject.
“It wasn’t difficult – we’re holed up here, as well. It’s
the only place left with power,” Giles explained.
“You, Faith, Angel, and Andrew?”
“And … several Potentials. Those that managed to escape the
Bringers and Caleb and make it to Sunnydale,” Giles confirmed.
“Potentials? You mean, like, Slayers-in-Waiting?”
Giles nodded. “Indeed. Just girls, really. We’ve done some
basic defensive and weapons training with them, but … they’re just girls.”
“Where are … Willow and Xander and … everyone?” Buffy
wondered tentatively.
Giles cleared his throat and removed his glasses to begin
polishing them again.
“Oh, this can’t be of the good…” Buffy muttered, watching
him.
Giles sighed and replaced his glasses, although he didn’t
look at her. He instead looked down the empty hallway, his mind focused in the
past. “After you … left, things here on the Hellmouth began to fall
apart. Somehow word spread that there was no Slayer in Sunnydale and demons
began flooding in – more than we could handle on our own. I called Angel and
asked him to see if he could locate you since Willow and I were having no
success.”
“Yeah, we sent a message back with him,” Buffy interjected.
Giles nodded and sighed. “Indeed. When it became clear that
you would not be returning, Angel moved back here to assist – but even that was
not enough. A biker demon gang invaded one night – much too many for us to
fight, even with Angel’s help. They began burning homes, killing the residents,
pillaging stores…”
Giles paused and finally looked at Buffy. “They caught Tara
out on the street alone. They killed her.”
Buffy gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. “Oh, Tara
… Oh, God, Willow…”
Giles nodded. “Willow was … inconsolable, and worse. Buffy,
she turned dark … her grief and anger consumed her. She was driven to seek
revenge and exact retribution against the perpetrators. Her magick, fed by her
rage and heartbreak, turned black and dangerous, and much more powerful than any
of us could’ve imagined.”
“What happened?” Buffy asked when Giles paused.
Giles looked away again, lost in the memories. “With merely
a murmured word and a flick of her fingers she wrought her revenge on the
demons. Their motorbikes came alive and wrapped around their riders, turning the
tables, if you will. The demons were … crushed by their own machines. If they
fled, the bikes would chase them down and catch them. Not one survived.”
“Yay Willow?” Buffy posited weakly.
Giles scowled, his eyes still focused down the hallway.
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to sate her grief.” Giles finally looked at
Buffy. “She nearly ended the world, Buffy. If not for Xander, I’ve no doubt she
would’ve.”
Buffy cringed. “What happened?”
Giles shrugged. “I’m not entirely certain, but he managed
to remind her of her humanity and quelled the raging tempest, but …” Giles
sighed. “She’s never been quite the same. She went to live with the coven
outside of London, to learn to control the dark side of her magicks. She’s done
well by all reports, but she’s vowed to not return to the Hellmouth. Her parents
have moved there, as well.”
Buffy’s brows went up. “What happened to Xander and Anya?”
“That’s another long story,” Giles began.
From behind Giles a new voice spoke up. Buffy recognized it
immediately: Faith. “The way I hear it, Xander ditched her at the altar, she took up the Vengeance
Demon gig again and tried to get someone to wish the X-man eviscerated. Xander
got fed-up with Angel being large-and-in-charge here in Sunnydale and scampered
off. Last anyone heard, he had moved north, San Fran, maybe? Anya traipsed after
him, still looking for someone to wish his balls would shrivel up and fall off
or something equally hilarious.”
Giles sighed and turned to face the dark Slayer. “Or
perhaps not such a long story after all.”
Faith smiled wryly at him. “Hey, B. Come for the annual
Hellmouth opening paar-tay?”
“Faith,” Buffy greeted her sister-Slayer dryly. “I heard
there’s something here that belongs to me. Came to get it.”
“Belongs to me,” Faith corrected, moving up to stand near
Giles.
Buffy tilted her head, keeping a serene smile on her face.
“Me.”
Faith laughed darkly. “You’re still a holier-than-thou
bitch.”
“And you’re still a murdering skank ho ... and an
escaped convict,” Buffy retorted, sliding down from the gurney and forcing
herself not to wince. The Tylenol had helped some or maybe her leg was starting
to heal now that the shrapnel was out, it didn’t hurt quite as much – either
that or she was just getting used to it.
“Oooo, snap!” Faith replied. “That really hurts,” she
groaned sarcastically, laying a hand over her heart as if wounded. “Correct me
if I’m wrong, but I heard you retired from the Slayer gig. That makes whatever
Caleb has mine.”
“You never change,” Buffy retorted, angrily. “The fucking world
doesn’t revolve around Faith – it’s not all about you.”
“She’s right, Faith,” came a new voice from down the hall.
They all looked up to see Angel sauntering casually toward them. “Of course, it
doesn’t revolve around you, either, Buffy.”
Buffy scowled up at the dark vamp. “You know perfectly well
whatever Caleb has is mine,” she insisted. “I’m the fucking Slayer. Tell them,
Giles.”
Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them in
earnest.
“Yeah, G – tell her,” Faith agreed, smirking.
“Giles?” Buffy questioned, confusion clouding her features.
Giles sighed and slipped his glasses back on, looking less
than pleased. “Buffy, you have been gone quite some time. We’ve been forced to …
move on. This isn’t your town any longer – it’s Angel’s and he’s … selected
Faith to … assist him in this fight,” he confirmed, backing up the dark Slayer.
Buffy’s mouth hung open in shock. Giles was backing Faith?
Faith, the murderer? Faith the escaped prisoner? Faith!?!?
Faith smirked. “So, your sagging ass can crawl back under
whatever rock you came out of. We got this,” she snarked.
Buffy blinked, her ire rising. “My ass is not saggy!”
Faith leaned forward and looked pointedly at Buffy’s ass,
shrugging. “Whatever you say, B.”
“You jealous bitch…” Buffy growled, balling her hands into
fists and stepping forward toward her sister Slayer.
Angel stepped between the two women, facing Buffy.
“Angel! You can’t seriously be on Team Faith!” Buffy
exclaimed in frustration.
“I know what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas,
but I kinda took that personal, Buff. Like Faith said: we got this,” Angel
confirmed. “And your ass …” he crinkled his nose up a bit, raising his hand,
thumb and forefinger close together, “…little bit saggy. Spike’s clearly not
giving your ass the attention it needs.”
Buffy glowered at him, her fists itching to turn him into a
pile of floating dust-motes. She could practically feel the steam billowing from
her ears as she fought to restrain her indignant anger.
Sensing how close she was to exploding, Giles stepped
forward near his ex-Slayer and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Perhaps it would
be best if you took your … friend and headed back home.” He shrugged
apologetically, imploring Buffy with his eyes to ‘please understand’.
Buffy slowly peeled her gaze away from Angel and settled it
on Giles, her chest heaving with fury. “I nearly tore my family apart, I hurt
Spike, I left my children, left everything that I love, to come here and fight
this,” she ground out, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage. “I
killed that fucking preacher for God’s sake! Something none of you seemed to be
able to accomplish, I might add. I nearly got killed in the process and Joan–”
“I realize that, Buffy,” Giles interrupted. “And your
assistance with Caleb is appreciated – but … it appears that Angel and Faith do
have the situation well in hand,” Giles assured her. “We have a … errr … weapon,
of sorts. It's rather sparkly as weapons go, but by all accounts, it will allow Angel to cleanse the Hellmouth of
this threat.”
Buffy stared at him, disbelieving. “You’re backing Angel
over me? Angel!? You do remember Angel, right?” she asked
her Watcher acidly. “Jenny Calendar, Acathla, torture, mayhem, death … any of
this ringing bells in that tweed brain of yours?”
Giles winced as his own old wounds were ripped open. He
removed his glasses again, polishing them furiously as he reasserted his
self-control. Buffy waited.
Finally, he slipped them back on and looked up at her. “I
can assure you there is nothing wrong with my memory, Buffy. However, he is the
only one that can wield this weapon…”
“Then we’ll get a weapon I can wield – like that
axe-thingy that Caleb…” Buffy started.
Giles shook his head, stopping her. “Certainly that may
help, but this is bigger than that. I hate to admit it, but this appears, by all
accounts, to be Angel’s fight, Buffy – not yours … or even Faith’s, for that
matter.
“This has, apparently, been developing for some time …
since your prophesized death at the hands of the Master was … reversed.
The existence of two Slayers at one time has caused the mystical forces
surrounding the Chosen line to become irrevocably altered, unstable, and
vulnerable.
“It seems clear that the Powers brought Angel back from
Acathla’s hell dimension specifically for this confrontation. That is why The
First Evil tried so hard to annihilate him after his return – to convince him to
commit suicide.
“You recall that, I’m quite certain,” Giles concluded
frostily, striking back, trying, but failing, to open a wound of his own. “Snow
in Sunnydale?”
Buffy didn’t react with any hint that she even remembered
Angel’s failed suicide attempt, despite how frightened she’d been by it at the
time. It was too many lifetimes ago to register as more than a passing blip on
her radar. Instead she seethed as she looked from one to the other of them, her
gaze steely, arctic. For many long moments no one spoke, no one blinked. It was
clear they didn’t want her help – whether they needed it, she had no way of
knowing.
Finally, Buffy pursed her lips defiantly but nodded her
grudging acquiescence. “Fine,” she spat. “We’ll go.” Then, leaning in near Giles
she snarled in a low, threatening voice, “You better hope Spike never finds out
that you were the one that called the Council.”
Giles blanched and took a step back. Buffy’s eyes were cold
and hard when they met his and she held his gaze for a long, tense moment.
Turning to face Faith squarely, Buffy poked a finger
against the other Slayer’s chest and snarled, “Don’t fuck this up.”
Faith gave Buffy a sardonic smile and wrapped an arm around
Angel’s waist, leaning her body against his lecherously. “You know me, B, I fuck
it any way I can get it.”
Buffy snorted and looked between Angel and Faith. “Yeah, I
can see that. Maybe one day you’ll be woman enough to fuck the soul out of him,”
she sneered disdainfully, her green eyes glittering with scorn.
“What makes you think I haven’t already?” Faith shot back,
dark eyes flashing angrily.
Buffy huffed out a sarcastic laugh, her eyes narrowed on
the two brunettes. “’Cos he hasn’t killed you and my stake’s not six inches deep
in his chest.”
Buffy spun away from the trio before Faith could respond,
and burst back through the doors of Operating Suite One, nearly taking them off
their hinges. Joan was dressed in
surgical scrubs and up on her feet, although it was clear that she wasn’t fully
functional yet. She had a distinct limp and a pronounced list to one side that
Andrew was still trying to correct.
“We need to go. Now,” Buffy announced in no uncertain
terms.
“But she’s not ready yet,” Andrew whined. “And you’re
contaminating my operating room again!”
“Get her ready,” Buffy growled.
“I can’t just ‘get her ready’,” the geek retorted
haughtily. “She’s a delicate piece of technology; you can’t expect me to just
patch her up with duct tape like a Ken doll! Which, by the way, was not my
fault, no matter what Tucker said.”
Buffy cocked a brow at him, but then shifted her gaze to
Joan. “Can you travel?”
“Yes,” Joan answered at the same time Andrew insisted,
“No!”
“Her dermis is damaged. Get the right debris in there and
it could wipe her hard drive or …” he continued in earnest.
“She got riddled with shrapnel and preacher guts!” Buffy
pointed out. “What could be worse?
“C’mon, we aren’t welcome here,” Buffy said to her twin.
“Let’s go.”
Andrew sagged as the two blonds limped for the door. “Take
me with you!” he suggested suddenly. “I can … be majorly helpful! I can finish
fixing her when we get … wherever you’re going.
“I’m also excellent at programming VCRs,” he added as
enticement. “I even know how to set the clock.”
Buffy turned and scowled at him, exasperated.
“Please,” Andrew begged, folding his hands under his chin
and moving forward toward them. “These people here … they scare me,” he
admitted, his voice low. “Please get me out of here. I swear I’m house-broken,
I’m no trouble, I hardly eat anything at all, and I can be uber-useful. I can
finish fixing her – she’ll be better than new!”
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Get those plans and come
on – we’re leaving this minute.”
“They’re actually schemas,” Andrew corrected, running back
to gather up the Bot’s blueprints and diagrams. “Lots of people get that
confused. See, a ‘schema’ is a ‘plan’, but it’s also…”
Buffy and the Bot didn’t wait for him. When they got back
out into the hallway, Giles, Faith, and Angel were gone. They headed down the
hall to the ICU nurse’s station and retrieved the Bot’s charging equipment and
Buffy’s backpack.
By the time they started down the stairs, Andrew had caught
up with them, his arms full of … stuff – not just Bot-plans … or schemas or
whatever.
“What’s all that?” Buffy asked as she and Joan limped down
the stairs, arm in arm, supporting each other.
“My collectible action figures: Count Dooku, Boba Fett,
General Grievos, Lando Calrissian… I had a super-rare Padmé but Angel broke her.
He’s such a big grumpy-pants, I swear! He couldn’t have broken Jar Jar
Binks … noooo, had to be my Padmé vs. Nexu Diorama. She was a limited edition,
MIB…”
Buffy stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to glare
at him. “What are you yapping about?”
Andrew blinked at her. How could she ask that? Wasn’t she a
kindred spirit? “The battle in the Geonosis Arena…?”
Buffy widened her eyes, raised her brows, and shook her
head, not understanding at all.
“The pivotal moment when
Padmé fends off the vicious beast on the stone
pillar,” Andrew clarified.
Buffy brow’s remained near her
hairline.
“Attack of the Clones, Episode II,” he continued, his voice
becoming softer.
Buffy’s brows furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out
what he was talking about. She understood the individual words, but …
“Star Wars…” Andrew continued, crestfallen.
One of Buffy’s brows quirked up questioningly. “You’re
bringing … videos?”
“Action figures …” he corrected, sniffing indignantly.
“You’re lugging … toys … from an old movie?” she
asked incredulously.
“The movies don’t even scratch the surface of the world of
the Jedi,” he corrected haughtily. “And not toys! Action figures!
Mint-in-box, collectable action figures,” he informed her. “Geez! No one around
here has any respect for the intergalactic might and influence of the Force!”
Andrew deflated. “I miss Jonathan and his magic bone…” he
moaned.
Buffy’s brows jumped back up, but she shook it off, let out
an exasperated sigh, and turned to continue down the stairs. “Geeks,” she
muttered dryly.
**~**
Once outside, two things were clear: first, the sun had
been setting, it was now twilight, nearly fully dark; second, they needed some
wheels. Between Andrew and his armful of action figures, and Buffy’s and
Joan’s injuries, walking anywhere was really not an option. Where to get a car
with gas and keys… Hmmm.
Two blocks down, Buffy found what they needed – at the
police station. While Joan and Andrew waited outside, Buffy retrieved several
sets of keys from the previously-locked cabinet on the wall near the deserted
front desk, noting the car numbers that they belonged to. Outside, she found the
first car and opened it up with the key then started it. She frowned – less than
half a tank of gas. Didn’t cops fill their cars up before they brought them back
to the station?
She switched it off and tried the second car. Success! Its
tank was nearly full.
“Here!” she called to Andrew and Joan, unlocking all the
doors. She grabbed her cell phone out of one of the pockets, then tossed her backpack and Joan’s
equipment into the trunk.
“Shotgun!” Andrew called immediately as he hurried for the
passenger door.
“Don’t even think about it,” Buffy growled from behind the
car, the trunk still open. “Put that crap in here and get in the back seat.”
Andrew’s whole body seemed to slump and he let out a
wordless whine.
“You can stay here if you’d rather,” Buffy offered, the
thought brightening her dreary mood. Why had she agreed to let him come along?
Andrew stomped to the trunk and put the Bot’s schemas in,
then began placing his collectables in very carefully, setting each one so it
wouldn’t slide around or fall.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Sometime today,” she growled,
pulling the trunk lid down threateningly.
Andrew ‘eeped’ and hurriedly put the rest of his cache in
the trunk, withdrawing his fingers just before Buffy slammed the trunk closed.
“You’re kind of a grumpy-pants too,” he muttered, climbing
into the back seat.
“You have no idea…” Buffy agreed as she slid in behind the
wheel, setting her phone in the equipment console between herself and Joan.
Buffy took a few moments to acquaint herself with the
controls of the car before starting out.
“Perhaps I should drive. I’m an excellent driver,” Joan
offered.
“Yeah, Rain Man … I’m thinking not,” Buffy replied. “You’re
… listing pretty severely to starboard.”
“Actually, this is port,” Joan corrected, trying to
straighten her leaning head and body back to neutral, but failing.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Listing and driving are
non-mixy.”
“It’s her balance control and equilibrium system. It’s very
fragile, although Warren made hers super-strong with quadruple-redundancy to
support the requisite fighting skills, since … duh! A fragile Slayer
isn’t much good. I’ll have to open her up and take a look, but I’m guessing the
little glass, hydrogen-filled tubes, which detect disturbances and send signals
to her processors, have been shattered. Either that or the quadrant of her hard
drive which computes millions of possible reactionary bodily movements every
millisecond is damaged. Both are totally integral to her balance functionality…”
“Andrew! I’m trying to concentrate here. Shut up!” Buffy
barked at him.
“Geez … touchy,” he groaned under his breath.
Once the prattling stopped, Buffy put the car in reverse
and backed out of the parking space without incident. She grinned proudly – why
had she been so avoid-y about driving all these years? She totally had this.
Putting the car into drive, she headed out of the lot, only scratching two other
cars, denting the fender on a fire hydrant, and jumping one curb on her way to
the street. Awesome!
Andrew whimpered, cowered down in the backseat, and put his
seatbelt on, suddenly afraid he’d made a terrible mistake. His heart constricted
painfully when he heard his action figures being bounced around in the trunk.
“Be careful!” he admonished Buffy as he held onto the door
for dear life.
“Oh, man up, Andrew!” Buffy scoffed as she swerved to avoid
a parked car that had suddenly jumped out in front of her.
“See?” Buffy asked Joan as she straightened the car out and
pulled into her own lane, clearly pleased with herself. “I can totally drive.
Spike’s just too picky about his … precious.”
“I believe he loves his automobile almost as much as he
loves us,” Joan agreed.
“More, sometimes,” Buffy agreed. “Boys and their toys,” she
sighed.
“Are we going to retrieve our weapon that the demon
clergyman was holding hostage?” Joan wondered.
“Yup, I think we earned it,” Buffy agreed, almost missing
the turn she needed to make and swerving at the last moment, taking the turn
wide and jumping another curb.
“Hey!” Andrew complained from the backseat. “Watch it! This
is not cool! The way you’re driving, we’re gonna wake up in a ditch,
dead!”
Buffy rolled her eyes and straightened the car back out in
the center of the deserted road.
Joan furrowed her brows. “By definition, if you are dead,
you cannot wake up. Unless you are undead … or a zombie, or perhaps a ghost. I
do not believe that being made dead by an automobile crashing into a ditch would
render a human any of these. Although, I am not certain how a ghost is comes to
be formed…”
“I think he was being sarcastic,” Buffy pointed out,
interrupting her.
Joan frowned. “I have recorded the proper tones humans use
for sarcasm, and his did not match any of my prior samples.”
Buffy snorted. “Yeah, probably ‘cos he’s a nerd. It’s a
whole different species: Homo geekien.”
**~**
About a half an hour later, with the sun fully set, Buffy
parked near the walkway that led from the parking lot of the old winery to the
building itself. She cut the engine and surveyed the area, looking for Blind
Mice or other ‘security’, but saw nothing.
She was just about to get out of the car and retrieve her
weapons from the trunk when Faith and Angel emerged from the winery, the red axe
Buffy had seen in her dream in Faith’s hands.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath as she watched them
turn and begin to walk in the opposite direction, back toward the hospital.
“Who is that woman with our weapon?” Joan asked, her brows
furrowed.
“Faith … the Vampire Slayer,” Buffy answered, not taking
her eyes off the two brunettes.
“That is unacceptable. We should retrieve it from her. I
will go ask her to surrender it to its proper owners.”
Buffy’s hand darted out, stopping Joan. “Don’t – it won’t
do any good. She won’t give it.”
“Then I will fight her for it,” Joan pronounced, reaching
for the door handle again.
“No – you can’t. You’re … listing,” Buffy reminded her.
“Your balance is wonky; you’ll lose.”
Buffy chewed her thumbnail as she watched the pair
disappear into the woods beyond the winery, trying to decide what to do. If she
was 100% healthy, she felt could take Faith or Angel. Neither would be easy, but
she was fairly confident she could win against one or the other, but she wasn’t
sure she could take Faith and Angel together. To top it off, she wasn’t
anywhere near 100%.
“I can shoot them,” Joan suggested brightly. “I’m an
excellent shot. I got the highest accuracy rating possible in my concealed
weapons class.”
“No!” Buffy exclaimed. “We aren’t shooting humans – we’ve
been through this before. And shooting Angel only pisses him off; I’ve done it
before.”
“Those two are beaucoup de trouble,” Andrew announced from
behind Buffy, still staying scrunched down in the seat. “You really don’t want to tangle with them, Slayer. Not saying you
aren’t … errrmm… capable, it’s just that they’re … not nice.
“She’s, like, all evil and sexy, like Xenia Onatopp from
Goldeneye – which, of course, wasn’t a classic Bond film. Of course, how could
it be with Pierce Brosnan? It would’ve been sooo much better with Timothy
Dalton. I’d give it maybe a 6.3 out of 10. But Faith totally gets off on
violence, just like that villainous femme fatale.
“And Angel, he’s like Hannibal Lecter, only without the,
you know, quirky, fun side.”
“So, your advice is that I shouldn’t mess with them, is
that it, Andrew?” Buffy asked, her voice brittle, her eyes still trained on the
spot where the two had disappeared into the woods.
“Ummm … yes?” he replied sheepishly, sliding as far away
from her as he could get in the backseat. “I mean … I’d really like to live and
if you get killed, then where does that leave me?”
“Well, as long as your advice isn’t based on purely selfish
motives,” Buffy retorted, rolling her eyes.
“That’s sarcasm,” Joan offered helpfully. “I am capable of
recognizing sarcasm in Homo sapiens, but not Homo geekiens.”
Buffy sighed. Unfortunately, Andrew was right. It wouldn’t
do any of them any good for her to die trying to get that weapon. She didn’t
even know exactly what it was or what it did. Maybe Faith would need it to help
Angel defeat whatever they were about to face in the Hellmouth.
Buffy chewed her lip and tried to figure out what she
should do now. With Caleb gone, it seemed reasonable to think that her family
was safe from the Bringers, since he appeared to be their leader. The First Evil
was incorporeal, it, by itself, couldn’t harm them physically. She had no idea
what other weapons it had at its disposal, and that worried her. But, if Giles
was right, and Angel had some weapon to defeat it, maybe there wasn’t anything
to worry about. The First had apparently been concerned about facing Angel, so
much so that it tried to get him to off himself, so, maybe Angel really could
defeat it.
Buffy really had more questions than answers, but one thing
was abundantly clear: no one wanted her help. No one but Spike. No one but her
family. She looked over at her phone in the console. She’d left the email app up
and could see the messages there from Spike. She picked it up and opened the
email with the photo of him and the babies in it.
‘Come back to us.’ Buffy could actually hear his voice in
her head as she read his words and tears welled in her eyes.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Buffy turned back forward in
her seat and started the engine again.
“Are you not going to battle valiantly against the superior
force, putting your life in mortal peril to show how righteous and virtuous you
are by combating the morally corrupt brunettes so we may retrieve the weapon
that is rightfully ours?” Joan asked in one long breath as Buffy put the car
into gear.
Buffy gave Joan a small smile. “Not today, thank you.”
“Oh. Okay,” Joan replied brightly as she pulled her
seatbelt back across her shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“Home.”
**~**
Oingo Boingo - Weird Science
From my heart and from my hand
Why don't people understand
My intentions
Weird.... Ooo!
Weird Science
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces and
Magic from the hand
We're makin'
(Weird science)
Things I've never seen before
Behind bolted doors
Talent and imagination
(Weird science)
Not what teacher said to do
Makin' dreams come true
Living tissue, warm flesh
(Weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
(Bits of) my creation... Is it real?
It's my creation... My creation
It's my creation
Weird Science
Weird.....ooo!
(Weird science)
Magic and technology
Voodoo dolls and chants
Electricity. We're makin'
(Weird science)
Fantasy and microchips
Shooting from the hip
Something different
We're makin'
(Weird science)
Pictures from a magazine
Diagrams and charts
Mending broken hearts and makin'
(Weird science)
Something like a recipe
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
(Bits of) my creation... Is it real?
It's my creation... I do not know
No hesitation... No heart of gold
Just flesh and blood... I do not know
I do not know
From my heart and from my hand
Why don't people understand
My intentions . . . .
OOoo OOoo OOoo, weird science
Magic and technology [voodoo dolls and chants]
Weird Science
Things we never seen before [behind open doors]
Weird Science
Not what teacher said to do
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
(Bits of) my creation... Is it real?
It's my creation... I do not know
No hesitation... No heart of gold
Just flesh and blood... I do not know
It's my creation
It's my creation...ooo!
my creation...OOOOO!
my creation
It's my creation
From my heart and from my hand
Why don't people understand
My intentions . . . . Oooh, weird
OOOooo OOOooo OOOooo
weird science ooo!
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