FIC: Whither Thou Goest... Part 18/?

[PB <pbnj@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Title: Whither Thou Goest...
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Archive: Pink Rabbit, A Slayer/A Hacker
Author's Notes: This is the latest sequel to Spin, Spinning, Spun Out, It
All Depends On Your Timing, and Interludis Neanderthalensis. It's not
finished, but I'm going to start posting in segments since it's getting
close to the end (probably).
Disclaimer: The characters and show all belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant
Enemy, Kuzui, and God only knows who else. This particular arrangement of
words in cyberspace belongs to me, however. Btw, it contains love between
two women, so if such things offend you, are illegal where you live or
somesuch, kindly don't read it and upset yourself, 'kay. It'll just make
life easier on all of us.
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Rating: soft R -- for cursing, some violence, and such
Part: 18/? (yeah, I know the parts and the chapter numbers don't match
up--and they never will bwahahahahaha)

Whither Thou Goest...
Chapter Twelve (part 2)

Rupert Giles was very much aware of just how dark it was outside, the fact
that no one was answering Buffy's phone, and, of course, that a day's
efforts had yielded exactly nothing. He knew no more about where Delaine
DuCourvallier might be, or what she might be up to than he had when he started.

And now he couldn't help but think of Buffy's voice when she'd told him she
was going on patrol. It had been too nonchalant, too controlled, much too
unBuffylike.... And she'd asked him to say hi to her mother...which made no
sense whatsoever...unless....

"Oh, God," he exhaled as the realization struck him with the force of an
actual blow. "She knows...she knows where DuCourvallier is...and she's
going to face her alone."

"Did you say something G-man?" Xander inquired as he looked up from the
corner of the painting he was studying, his tone surprisingly bouncy. The
doctor had given him a couple of muscle relaxants for use if he got too
sore from the beating, and he'd given in and taken one upon waking from his
little nap. He was definitely feeling good...really good. A little unsteady
maybe, but good.

Giles flung his pen down, ignoring Xander as he swore angrily, "Bloody
hell, somehow Buffy found out where DuCourvallier is going to be. She's
gone to meet her."

Xander paled, while Joyce, Anya, and a videotape-watching Spike all looked
toward the former Watcher.

The blond vampire was the first to speak, asking quite cheerfully as he
looked up from the blood soaked microwave popcorn he was enjoying with his
soap opera, "So, what's up, mate?"

Giles' eyes fell on the vampire, he saw the look of laughing triumph and
knew. "You did it," he hissed. He advanced on Spike, while the others
looked on in confusion. "You're the bloody messenger she used, aren't you?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," the vampire insisted with a
none-too-believable look of innocence.

Giles grabbed Spike by the collar hauling him to his feet. "Where?" he
snarled, lips drawn back from tightly clenched teeth.

It was Xander who drew close to the two first. "Um...Giles, maybe a note of
explanation--however brief--is in order."

"Yeah," Spike yelped, playing for time. "Since I don't know what you're
talking about."

Giles was dangerously close to murder, but he reigned in his raging temper
to force out an answer, "I believe Buffy's gone to meet Delaine
DuCourvallier, with the intention of fighting her--"

"Four hundred year old killer Vampire-Slayer chick," Xander repeated. "Oh,
that can't be good."

"No," Giles confirmed and shook Spike to drive his point home. "Not good at
all."

Joyce pushed to her feet, her expression horrified. "No," she exhaled.

"And since the only one here who had both the motive and the opportunity is
Spike..."

The blond vampire was grinning, his eyes dancing with good humor, despite,
or perhaps because of Giles' obvious fury.

"I have to conclude that this pissant little bastard forwarded a message
for the bitch." He shook Spike again to reinforce his point. "Now where are
they meeting?"

Spike appeared to consider the question, then suddenly his lips split into
a grin and he laughed. "Y'know, Giles, you take life much too seriously.
They'll probably share a Slayer's bonding sort of moment."

Xander pushed his way between the two before Giles had a chance to grab for
anything wooden. "Whoa, Giles, no killing him...yet." Xander spun in place,
grabbing Spike in Giles' place. "Not until after he's told us where they are."

"Oh, come on, you two," Spike taunted them. "We all know you're not going
to kill me."

"Oh, don't bet on that," Xander disagreed.

"Oh, come on, Boy Blunder, you know you won't do it. Not as long as I can't
fight back."

"But I will," Joyce said softly. All eyes swung to Buffy's mother where she
stood only a few feet away, her expression deadly serious, a crossbow
gripped tightly in her good hand. "If anything happens to my daughter, you
die. It's that simple."

Spike laughed, but there was an edge of nervousness to it this time. "Now
come on, Joyce," he coaxed, "you and I are friends."

"No," Buffy's mother corrected him grimly as she rocked the crossbow into
position, pulled the string back and looped it over the hammer, ignoring
the throbbing agony that bolted through her broken wrist. "We're not." She
grabbed a crossbow bolt from the stack on the shelf where the weapon had
been stored, dropped it into the slot, and took aim. "And if you don't tell
me where my daughter is, I'll aim higher next time." She triggered the
crossbow and the bolt tore through Spike's thigh, drawing a dull scream of
agony.

"Ow! God, that hurts! Watch where you point that thing! You could have done
some real damage!" he exploded in outrage.

Much to everyone's surprise, even her own, Joyce yanked the bowstring back
again and dropped another bolt into place. "Guess where the next one's
going to hit."

"Now, Joyce, let's be reasonable," the vampire bargained nervously, while
Xander and Giles backed out of range of the weapon.

She smiled a brittle smile. "I've got a concussion, a broken wrist, plenty
of drugs in my bloodstream, and a crossbow. Why be reasonable?"

The vampire swallowed hard. He would have been sweating if he could still
sweat. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," she challenged in return. "I may not have Buffy's aim," she
straightened her arm, sighting the weapon along the bolt, "but I'm betting
I'll hit something."

Xander and Giles both took another step back, while Anya popped a potato
chip in her mouth, chewing absently as she watched the ongoing saga with
the same sort of fascination she usually reserved for bad horror movies and
new episodes of Change of Heart.

"Now, wait--" Spike was still arguing when Joyce triggered the crossbow a
second time and the bolt sailed harmlessly between the vampire's knees,
close enough to just brush his leather pants and leave him shaking.

"Whoops," she sighed overdramatically. "I missed." She yanked the string
back a third time, then retrieved another bolt from the shelf where Giles
stored them. "Y'know, I think I see why Buffy likes this so much." Her eyes
glinted wickedly. "It's fun."

"Go Buffy Mama," Xander muttered under his breath, while Spike's eyes
widened another notch as he watched the woman reload the weapon.

"Giles," he pleaded, sounding more than a little panicked, "you aren't
actually going to allow this?" the vampire demanded in appalled outrage.

Giles' gaze remained locked on Buffy's mother as though he'd never quite
seen her before as he answered rather distantly, "Actually, I rather think
I am."

Joyce made quite a show of closing one eye and aiming carefully as her hand
wavered ever so slightly.

"Xander!" Spike shouted.

"Did you hear something, Anya?" the teen asked mock-innocently.

Not getting the joke, his former demon of a girlfriend responded seriously
between bites, "Yeah, I heard Spike crying out in terror because Buffy's
mother is about to shoot his genitals off. It was pretty loud actually. If
you couldn't hear it, you should probably get your hearing checked."

Every eye in the room fell on the former demon for a beat.

"Umm, honey," Xander said at last, "remind he to explain the concept of
sarcasm again sometime."

Anya only shrugged.

"Now, let's see what I can hit this time," Joyce mused out loud.

"The school!" Spike yelped, his voice rising a full octave as he saw her
finger start to depress the trigger.

Joyce relaxed her hand fractionally. "The school?" she questioned, her tone
politely demanding clarification. "That leaves several choices."

Spike's mind was racing. If he told them where to find the Slayer and her
predecessor, then he was dead either way because he'd lied to all involved
and neither side was likely to be terribly thrilled with him if and when
they found out. At least with this lot he had a chance of escaping before
they could do any real damage. If either Slayer got involved, then he was
dustbuster-fodder for sure. "The high school," he insisted as though there
was no other possible answer. "You know, the one your daughter trashed
during the act of graduating. There's not much of the place left as I
understand it, but it's where DuCourvallier bloody well wanted to meet her."
Joyce straightened her arm, once again sighting the weapon, her expression
coldly angry. "Thank you."

"She told me that if anyone else found out, she'd kill her. I did your
bloody little Slayer-brat a favor by keeping her secret...and besides, she
also threatened me if I told any of you. She was very clear about that.
Tell them, Spike, and you're dead...and since those camouflaged bastards
made it so I can't even hit back--"

"I think I should just shoot," Joyce decided out loud.

"All right, that's enough," Giles said gently as he carefully reached out
to remove the weapon from Joyce's hand before she could fire. "We know what
we need to."

Weak kneed, Spike sank down onto the couch. If it hadn't been his equipment
at risk, he'd have been impressed, maybe even a little turned on. As it
was, he was just severely relieved to not be missing one more aspect of his
character that he considered more than a little important. On top of losing
the ability to hurt, kill, maim, and generally create havoc amongst the
human race, it would have been just too much for his ego to bear.

"Xander," Giles clipped as he glanced at the young man.

Xander was already moving, gathering up the weapons they needed. "I'm on
it, G-man."

"Wait a minute," Anya broke in. "Are you suggesting we go off to fight an
infamous vamped Slayer? Because if you are, I have to say I think it's a
really bad idea. Isn't that the sort of thing the Slayer is supposed to do?
And since Buffy is apparently already off to do it--"

"Anya, honey," Xander said too sweetly. "Shut up, and start grabbing weapons."

Her eyebrows lifted in response as she was torn between outrage and arousal
at his tone of command--or at least as close to a tone of command as Xander
was ever likely to get. She finally settled on pouting as she moved to do
as he'd told her. "Well, if you're going to be like that."

"I am."

"We can take my Bronco," Joyce inserted, still glaring balefully at Spike,
who glared right back.

"We?" Giles repeated uncertainly. "I really don't think you should--"

"I'm coming," she said flatly. "I will not be left out of my daughter's
life one more time."

The two stared at each other for a long moment in a silent battle of wills,
until, finally, it was Giles who looked away. "Very well," he said at last.
"There's no time to argue about this."

Spike settled back onto the couch, making himself at ease now that he was
comfortably certain the worst of the evening was over. "Well, you all have
a good time. I won't wait up for y--" His words ended on a strangulated
gurgle as Giles yanked him to his feet by the collar.

"Oh, you're coming along, Spike," he snarled. "Though it remains to be seen
whether or not you'll be coming back."

"If you insist," Spike drawled, but his already parchment pale skin
whitened another notch.

"Oh, I do," Giles murmured as he thrust the vampire toward the door,
trusting Xander and Anya to handle transporting the weapons.

* * * * * *
TBC

--"If I was all that fond of real life, I would never have majored in theater"

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