The Lateralus Duet - 1 - Schism
by Valyssia
To Hold the Mirror Up to Nature
[reviews]
Description: Set mid-season six starting with everyone's favorite 'The Double Meat Palace.' The Trio breaks into the Magic Box to recover the invisibility ray and as per usual things go very wrong.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Willow and all things Slayer belong to Joss Whedon and the good folks at Mutant Enemy.
Source Material: In chapter one I directly quote dialog from the episode 'The Double Meat Palace.' A gentle tip of my hat and a wink to the author Jane Espenson.
Fankies: Howard Russell for working with me as primary beta. Poor guy patiently corrected all of those frightening bits of grammar and punctuation. And to Whedonist for being an inspiration and a patient test reader. Ahn's back after a short sick leave, finding all those annoying redundant words and minor grammar foibles. WOOT!
Lyrics: Tool — Lateralus - Schism
Feedback: Yes...please... It gives me a happy.
I know the pieces fit 'cause I watched them fall away, mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing.
Jonathan was the first one through the steel grate that led into the basement of the Magic Box. He was well aware that his order in line was due to the fact that the other two felt him expendable, but he brushed the hard feelings off and made room for them to join him. Offering a hand down to Andrew, he asked again nervously, "What're we doing here? 'Cause I'm not sure I'm following this plan."
As Warren made his way through the narrow grate, he replied, "Look, Sparky, I'll tell you again, just this once. We're here to see if there's anything we can use."
"So we're here to steal stuff?" Jonathan affirmed anxiously. His gaze traveled from Warren to the bins and boxes scattered around the Magic Box basement.
Warren walked up behind Jonathan and whispered, "More like, here to steal stuff back. Besides, didn't seem to bother you much when we were stealing a priceless diamond. Not that it did any good. Thanks to you and Jenkins here," he gestured to Andrew, "The invisibility ray's gone and we've got nothing to show for it. There's a pretty good chance that Betty and the Super Teens brought it here. Now shut up and start looking."
After moving a crate so he could look on the top shelf of the racks that stood along one wall, Andrew stretched and pulled down a short, thick chunk of what looked like gnarled wood. He turned it over in both hands and looked at the inscriptions. There was an obvious firing mechanism near the thinner end of the device and he mused for a moment about trying it on Jonathan, then said, "Got something, or I think I do. Jonathan come look at these inscriptions." When the other two joined him, he hopped off the crate and handed the stick over.
Jonathan carefully inspected the piece of wood. "I'm gonna need my books, but I think this word here," he pointed near the narrower end of the wooden rod, "is tot," he offered pensively.
"Great; a kid's toy," Andrew remarked as wandered away from the other two and pulled a sheet from the head of what appeared to be a manikin. He chuckled and pointed at the limbless replica of the slayer. "Warren. Check it out. Looks like Spike may've gotten a bit frisky with his toy."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Jonathan remarked, still thoughtfully looking at the strange piece of wood.
Warren took his eyes off the pensive Jonathan for just an instant to glance over at Andrew and the mangled Buffy-bot. He laughed then commented, "Actually, it looks like Spike got caught with his hand in the cookie jar."
"Wanna try and take it with us? We'll have to collect the pieces. Could be useful to have a spare Buffy," Andrew queried, still giggling at Spike's broken sex-bot. He shifted the blanket and found that the arms and legs of the bot were sitting in a box next to the torso.
"Nah... Start stacking a box with supplies. I'm actually more interested in this," Warren instructed in an amused voice. He looked down at the piece of wood Jonathan was holding and snatched it out of his hands then aimed it at the smaller man's chest.
"Hey! I was trying to read that," Jonathan spat then looked up to see the wooden rod pointed at him. He attempted to move away, but before he got more than a couple of paces Warren pressed the firing mechanism and nothing happened. He made his way to the trapdoor in disgust. "You guys are on your own. I'll see you back at the lair."
He may be useless and short, but he's got good instincts for the mojo. Only reason I keep the annoying runt around. Warren tossed the stick into a box and began to stack spell ingredients on top of it. He looked around for Andrew and shrugged when he didn't see him. Figures both those little weasels would bail on me. Just then, Andrew popped up from under the table in the middle of the room.
"Got it," Andrew stated triumphantly, pulling a box out that contained parts of the invisibility ray. After placing the box on the top of the table and standing, he looked over at Warren.
Warren appeared completely disgusted while he looked over the pieces of the disassembled invisibility ray. "They trashed it. Just put it back. They'll know exactly who broke in if we take it and I could build another in the same time it'd take to fix that. Besides, the diamond's gone. Useless without it."
Andrew stowed the box back under the table. "So, now what?" he queried anxiously as he dusted his jeans off.
"Now I go upstairs to see if they have any interesting books we can use and you stack supplies. We want this to look like a robbery," Warren directed patiently. He made his way to the staircase and tossed the blanket over the creepy sex-bot. Glancing back once to make sure Andrew was following instructions, he set off up the stairs.
***********
"I can't believe I'm doing this for a measly seven bucks an hour," Buffy grumbled to the empty room as she buttoned the red and white pinstriped top. Glancing once more in the mirror, she cringed and grabbed her shoes then went to her bed. After taking a seat, she started to put her canvas tennis shoes on. Her gaze fell on Mr. Gordo then turned to the stuffed cow crested on the ridiculous hat. "Don't worry, Mr. Gordo. I swear I'm not cheating on you," she whispered. Once her shoes were tied, she slipped the silly cap on her head.
Morbid curiosity stirred Buffy to look into the full length mirror on her closet door again when she went to close it. She cringed. It was the most awful thing she'd seen in her life. Nope...not cheating on Mr. Gordo. Way too much integrity for that. Just humiliating myself for minimum wage, screwing a vampire... she let out an exasperated sigh, a vampire that I hate, and pushing away the people I love. Way too much integrity to cheat on a stuffed pig.
Time to face the firing squad. Y'know it may not be too warm out for a full length coat. It's only been in the seventies. She shrugged and left her room, trudging quietly down the stairs. Steeling herself, she put on her best 'I don't give a shit' face as she stood on the landing, listening to the voices of her friends. When she heard the conversation, she rolled her eyes.
Anya ranted, "Without labor there can be no payment, and vice versa. The country cannot progress. The workers are the tools that shape America."
Great more lectures on capitalism from the ex-demon. Just what I needed. Time for the quick 'let them laugh, then bail.' She stepped into view and remarked sarcastically, "Good to know." All the eyes rested on her, but she refused to show any signs of discomfort. Instead, the sarcasm ran thicker as she added, "I was kinda feelin' like a tool." Her friends gaped at her. "And now I know why," she concluded in an emotionless voice. 'Kay, so...skipping past breakfast... I'm thinking I may never need to eat again. A soft sigh slipped out, barely noticed by the others as she turned to the door to leave.
***********
Jonathan glanced up from the book he was reading. A scowl tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched his friends wrestle for the controller to the Playstation. "Think you two could keep it down? Trying to concentrate here," he remarked in a grumpy voice.
Warren sat up off the floor. "Got something, Short Round?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah...a headache," Jonathan replied, raising his hands to massage his temples. He shot his friends a dirty glance as Warren made his way across the room to hang over his shoulder for the fourth time that hour. I should've kept my mouth shut. "Look, if I get the ingredients wrong we could end up with a homicidal-murderer-slayer. I just need to think," he commented in a low anxious tone.
Andrew glanced up from the video game he was playing. "What're the chances we could have a—" he cleared his throat and tried to press down a blush, "y'know a real submissive, sex-kitten-slayer? Well not slayer, but the other half?"
"It's doable, but tricky. Depends on how the weapon's charged. All the rest of her personality would be attached to the slayer, though. It has to be balanced right. A slayer without a conscience would be bad," Jonathan remarked pensively as he picked up a pencil and started to tap it on the book.
Warren chuckled. "No, but a sex kitten without a conscience has serious possibilities. Keep at it. Sounds like progress to me," he commented amusedly. Patting Jonathan on the shoulder, he turned to steal the game controller from Andrew again.
Andrew leaned over and murmured once Warren joined him, "So, what're we really doing?"
Leaning in to whisper, Warren replied, "Exactly what Toth was. Doesn't matter how the boy genius splits the bitch as long as it's weaker-stronger. Kill the weaker and we own this town."
"I dunno, Warren. What you're talking about is murder," Andrew shot back in a low nervous voice.
Warren put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Andrew, you know I'm right. Bitch has been running this town for years. If we can take her out, we'll be respected, feared, maybe even worshiped. There could be statues," he remarked in a convincing, but stifled tone.
Andrew nodded anxiously as he considered what Warren said. Eventually he consented softly, "Yeah, yeah... I guess you're right."
"I know I'm right. Leave it to me. I'll make you famous; chicks will be lined up for miles just to shake your hand," Warren whispered in a comforting voice.
A wicked smile washed over Andrew's face. "Not exactly what I'd want them to shake," he remarked slyly then immediately got embarrassed.
Jonathan glanced over at the other two. Whispering again...wonder what they're up to. Warren smiled at him and he returned the gesture then returned to compiling the list of ingredients.
***********
"I can't believe this! See? I told you. No respect for gross consumerism. Everybody wants something for nothing. It's just—" Anya huffed, searching for the words to describe the abomination. After another moment of rifling through the bins in the basement on the Magic Box, trying to assess what was taken, she added, "Well, it's un-American! That's what it is!"
"Anya, it's just a few spell ingredients," Willow replied, trying to placate the emotional ex-demon. 'Kay, so...maybe retreat—let her rant it off. She tried to slip back upstairs to see if anything of actual importance had been taken. When Anya started in again she froze.
"That's right. Just leave—leave me in my time of grief. I swear, all you people think about is yourselves," Anya grumbled bitterly.
Willow turned to face the blonde woman. As Anya glanced anxiously up from the bin she was sorting, she met her gaze and held it. "Not leaving," she offered reassuringly. A gentle smile warmed her face before she said in a comforting tone, "No one knows the inventory down here as well as you do, Anya. I just thought I'd go look through the books. I sorta know what's there and—I dunno—I thought I'd be more useful."
"Oh," Anya gasped, peering back down into the bin. She grumped quietly, having lost count. After a short pause to steady herself, she rubbed her nose and wiped away the tears that were threatening to come. Finally, she replied in a mildly authoritative tone, "I suppose there is some sense to your plan. Very well, carry on."
Willow turned to leave, offering a quick thanks to the Goddess and reassurance to Anya, "I'll be fine. Just counting, no casting, I promise." A soft sigh slipped out as she took a quick glance back. "I knew you'd say it," she mumbled anxiously then bounced up the stairs.
Anya turned her gaze nervously from the bin to the stairs. There've been better ideas. She snorted. Like Caesar walking into that senate room. Maybe I should go watch and...umm...supervise...
***********
A soft green glow encompassed the piece of wood and Jonathan giggled delightedly. Who's 'the man' now? "Think I got it. Bring me a test subject," he said, double checking the list.
Warren curbed his enthusiasm then simply picked up one of the rat cages. He set the cage down on a small empty table that sat against a blank wall and stared at the white rat with brown spots inside. "Take your best shot, Junior," he snarked.
Jonathan gave Warren a sideways glance and waited for Andrew to clear the area so he could fire. Once no one was in harm's way, he aimed the weapon and discharged it. A green beam shot out of the end of the stick and his face split into a satisfied smile. He joined his friends as they stared into the cage at the pair of perfectly twinned rats.
Andrew cringed and averted his gaze when one rat began to eat the other. "They're not supposed to be doing that, right? 'Cause that's a little gross," he commented disgustedly.
"Better luck next time, Boy Wonder," Warren remarked as he continued to watch the carnage.
Jonathan looked away, unable to watch the rats. "Yeah...maybe too much essence of mugmoor root," he stated in an uncomfortable tone, trying desperately to block the squeals of pain from his mind.
***********
Buffy bit back the urge to rub her eyes. All I need is to rub that slime into my skin. I could use a nice fat zit to go with the silly hat. Call it an ensemble look. I smell like a grease fire in a meat packing plant. When she pushed the employee entrance door open, all her prayers were answered, or so she thought in her most facetious tone. She stepped out into the halogen light that illuminated the rear of the building. It was all she could do to resist a runway style strut to make fun of the horror of the moment.
The words, "Well, well, well..." rolled off the vampire's sneering lips and Buffy did her best not to cringe or roll her eyes as he looked over her uniform. "What do you want, Spike?" she hissed. Her hands contacted his shoulders, pushing him out of the way.
Spike turned to follow the slayer and hastened his pace. "I can't believe you went through with—that you finished... You know you're better than this," he stumbled in an exasperated tone. His face reflected utter disbelief at the way the slayer had lowered herself. The look gets no better with time.
Buffy sped up, wanting nothing more than to get away from the vampire. "Better than what? Earning an honest days wage for an honest days work? Keeping food on the table? Not letting my life fall apart? What am I better than, Spike?" she snarled.
Spike reached out a hand and spun the slayer to face him. "You know what I mean, Buffy. You can't not. Look at you."
"Dunno shit, Spike," Buffy spat. After a second of mock careful consideration, she concluded, "Actually, I know this. If you don't get your hands off me," pausing for effect, she added in a low growl, "you'll miss them."
"Miss?" Spike asked dully. While he was trying to catch up, a greasy tennis shoe made contact with his temple. The slayer had moved on before he hit the ground.
Resuming her previous pace and speed, Buffy shot back, "Just leave me alone, Spike." She broke into a full run when she hit the woods between the burger joint and home. Her face was wet with tears by the time she leapt the cemetery fence. Vaulting tombstones to put more distance between herself and Spike, she traveled the most direct path possible through the dark misty graveyard.
A sigh of relief slipped out when Buffy burst through the cemetery entrance. Several short city blocks later, she was standing in front of her door. Please, just let me take a shower. She wiped her face with her shoulders, attempting to clear the tears. Then she opened the door to her home, ignoring Willow's greeting from the kitchen. After grabbing her robe from her bedroom, she set off into the bathroom. Willow stopped her about halfway down the short hall.
"Are you okay, Buffy?" Willow asked in a concerned voice.
Buffy put on her best cheerful smile then replied, "Yeah, just peachy. Tired, need a shower."
Willow looked dubiously at her friend. "Okay, well...you don't look peachy, but—" she cut short as the slayer pressed past her.
"Look, Will, not that I don't appreciate—'cause I do—but could we go back to the 'not noticing'? This'd be a lot easier for me if you didn't," she sighed, "Right now, what I need is a shower. Then I need to kill something...preferably brutally. I might even play with the killing. Then I need sleep. Then I need to wake up and do it again." She slipped into the bathroom and turned back for just a moment to add, "Please, just go back to making something of your life. Promise me you won't end up like this." Falling silent, she shut the door in her friend's face.
***********
A victorious smile lit his features as Jonathan peered down into the cage. Two identical rats occupied the cage where there had been only one moments before.
"The one that's just laying there...it's not dead, right?" Andrew queried, appearing more curious than nervous this time.
Jonathan avoided the rat that was running on the little wheel and stuck his finger through the bar to pet the docile rat. The small animal turned toward the attention. He looked up, meeting Andrew's gaze.
Warren patted Jonathan on the shoulder. "Well done, Spanky my friend, well done." He looked through the cage bars at the passive little rat and smiled, "What, with her recent employment at Double Grease Palace, we may want to wait to try it on the real thing. It's a bit late. Girl's gotta get her rest to sling those burgers. Charge it up and get ready. Tomorrow night, we're gonna have some fun, gentlemen."
***********
Buffy pressed her back against the cold tile wall of the break room and stared at the stupid motivational poster. Courage. Wonder what happened to mine? I feel like I left it somewhere, along with half a dozen other important pieces of Buffy. She focused on the poster, ignoring the vampire who was nuzzling her neck. Maybe if I just give him what he wants he'll go away...so much for courage. The truth of this thought snapped into place and she rested her hands on the vampire's upper arms, not taking her eyes off the poster. I'm a coward.
Her mind wandered as Buffy felt him unzip her pants. She drifted off into the twilight colors of the poster, the silhouette of the man hanging from a rock face. When Spike pressed inside her, she barely reacted; her mind was with the little man in the poster. She watched him fall and dove right at his side. They crashed into the electric blue barrier between worlds together. She lived in that moment. Courage. A tear slid down her cheek and she didn't bother to wipe it away. When the vampire had taken his fill of her, Buffy straightened her clothes and slipped silently from the room.
"I told her this place would kill her," Spike mumbled as he pushed the back door of the burger joint open, lifted the collar of his leather duster, and stole off into the night.
Buffy waited, giving him a few minutes to get ahead of her, then she left the restaurant, locking the door behind her. Courage. She slowly made her way across the parking lot and into the woods. Serenity to accept the stuff I can't change. The dark woods pressed in around her and she instinctively reached out with her senses. Courage to change the stuff I can. Her pace slowed to a silent creep. And wisdom to get the difference. She carefully placed her foot, ball first to stifle the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs. Spike's far enough ahead he shouldn't turn back. Her breath slowed and she slipped into the shadow of a tree. I wonder if they do twelve step programs for people that are addicted to denial. Standing like a statue she blended into the forest. If I get too close, he'll smell me. Wind's blowing the wrong way now.
***********
Jonathan stood low in the shadow of a mausoleum, watching the entrance of the cemetery. He had gladly relinquished the wooden weapon to Warren. Though, it did strike him as a bit foolish that he was the only one unarmed. He glanced at the tazer pistol Andrew had in hand and wondered if his friends intended to hang him out to dry. Guess we'll know soon enough.
"Look, there's Spike," Andrew commented excitedly. His finger shot out to indicate the figure they'd all seen moving along in the distance. "He's so cool," he added in a small, wistful voice.
"Be quiet, Microbrain. The slayer's probably right behind him," Warren hissed impatiently.
***********
Amy paused to make eye contact with the other witch, then took a seat next to her on her bed. "Hey. So I hear you got this whole 'cold turkey' thing goin' on," she remarked, trying to strike up conversation. It was impossible for her to believe that such a powerful witch would just throw it all away. She glanced ruefully at the redhead, taking in the way she held her legs off the bed as she lay on her stomach. She looks like a child.
Willow nodded absently. Her attention was fixed on the page of her textbook. I really can't deal with this now.
"How's that going?" Amy asked. Glancing at the page, she had to stifle a chuckle.
"It's good. It's really good. I mean, i-it was hard at first...frustrating...doing everything the slow way. It was like, 'is everything gonna take forever, forever?' " Willow remarked, trying to sound confident. Someone just...umm...I dunno, shoot me, stuff me in a box, just get me the hell outta here, something... The highlighter pen in her hand tapped nervously against the page of her book, but she seemed not to notice.
"Yeah," Amy offered sympathetically. Her gaze traveled back to the poor book then to Willow's face. She doesn't even notice. Bet I could do that twelve times and she wouldn't get what I'm looking at. It's pitiful.
Willow put on a self-assured smile. "But, uh, it's better now. I'm...getting my focus back." Taking any and all signs from benevolent deities. I'm not even picky...
Amy let out a soft sigh and offered, "Mmm. I can see that." Intentionally making eye contact with the other witch, she motioned to the textbook.
After looking down at the page and seeing that she'd highlighted the entire thing, Willow remarked defensively, "It's a pivotal page." Her jaws clenched to stifle a grumble and she sat up on the bed, slamming the text book closed. 'Kay, so...getting less and less picky...
"So this is it, huh? This is...gonna be your life from now on?" Amy asked, trying to purge the pity from her tone.
Willow shot the other witch and incredulous glare, "What?" Her gaze turned to the bedspread as she added uncertainly, "No."
"Well, you're never gonna do it again? Ever?" Amy prompted patiently as she stood up. "You're never gonna...feel how it made you feel?" Crossing the room, she kneeled to peer into the rat cage.
"Don't think that's the way to look at it," Willow replied defiantly.
Amy rose to her feet, stooping to pick up the cage. "Hey, Will. It's your birthday."
Willow's brow furrowed with confusion. "Um, no it isn't. But now that you mention it, Buffy's is coming—" she responded nervously, stopping mid-thought when Amy closed the distance between them.
"Potestas!" Amy exclaimed, focusing the borrowed power at the other witch. A harsh blue light connected them momentarily and she smiled. See if she gets over that little whammy. Bet she's back at Rack's this time tomorrow.
Willow jumped to her feet. A glance at the surface of her hands caused her to stop mid-gesture as she started to put them to her face. Her eyes fixed on the blue light radiating from them and she managed, "What?" appearing completely stunned.
A soft smile tugged at her features when Amy took in the other witch's black eyes. She'll be back for a fix. Bet on it.
Her gaze moved from her hands to a vase on the bedside table. Willow reached out to touch it and the vase opened like a flower. A gasp slipped out and she jerked reflexively, brushing the lamp next to it. Sparks flew off the lamp and it disappeared, leaving her standing in the low light that shown in from the hallway. While her hands shimmered in the near darkness, she struggled to control the power that washed over her. Finally she managed, in a tone thick with panic, "Amy..."
Amy smiled wolfishly. "It's a gift. It's magic...and it didn't come from you; it came from me. Completely legal." Stalling a second to enjoy the sight, she added, "Enjoy," and swept up her cage. Her hand caught the door on the way through, pulling it closed. On her way out she brushed by Dawn. "Later, kid." As she burst into the crisp night air, she chuckled.
Dawn furrowed her brow and watched the other witch leave. Kid? Wonder what she was up to? Out of sheer boredom, she peeked through Willow's door.
Willow stumbled over half a dozen conflicting thoughts while she stared at her hands. Just as Dawn started to peek in, she managed, "I'm really busy studying. I'll talk to you tomorrow unless you need something, Dawnie." Need? She snickered. How about a good way to get rid of this without turning everything in my room into Art Deco sculpture...
"Nope, no needs here," Dawn replied in a slightly hurt voice. Completely need-free. Gave up the needing because no one seemed to care. A soft sigh slipped out and she turned to go to her room. Doesn't matter anyway. Car wrecks and casts...not so much my thing.
***********
Buffy trudged through the cemetery. There were thousands of adjectives to describe her current condition: cold, tired, hungry, sore... Her favorite at the moment was 'alone,' or maybe 'lonely.' She barely lifted her feet as she moved. Her gaze was fixed on the ground in front of her. A small fragment told her that she'd been taken advantage of, but she honestly couldn't find the heart to care. If I wanted him to stop, saying it—pretty much helpful. Not his fault I could care less what happens.
Warren heard something moving and cautiously glanced around the corner of the crypt. He mouthed, 'She's coming,' to his colleges and got ready to open fire. As Buffy passed obliviously by, he pressed the firing mechanism, hitting her square in the back.
The feeling she was being ripped in two tore through her body as Buffy flew through the air. She crashed into a tombstone and sprung immediately to her feet. Rage consumed her and she looked for a target to vent it on. Her eyes narrowed when she caught a flash of movement behind a large crypt. She was on the location in a fraction of a second, vaulting graves that stood between her and her victim.
Warren stood up and yelled, "Andrew, you stupid shit! Shoot her!"
Andrew's mouth gaped open. His arms refused to obey the commands. He cowered on the ground, frozen in terror.
Jonathan backed away with his empty hands over his head.
Buffy grabbed the largest nerd and threw him through the air. His body slammed into the side of a headstone, issuing a small satisfying cracking sound. Her gaze traveled next down to the quivering, fair-haired boy. She smiled when she saw the tazer gun in his hand. "Bring me something?" she purred, snatching the weapon away. Her hand closed over the grip. "Lemme see if I can figure this out," she commented, "Point at geek and pull trigger," she followed her own instructions and reduced Andrew to a twitching mass at her feet. A wolfish smile corrupted her features and her foot shot out, catching him in the gut just to punctuate her distaste. She tossed the tazer gun aside and fixed her interest on Warren.
Warren rose, trying to run, but his legs were ripped out from under him. He stared up and gasped at the slayer. It was his last coherent memory that night.
Buffy stood over Warren and watched as Jonathan ran down the street. He's pretty much harmless without the other two. This one? She peered down at the largest geek's face. This one's trouble. She let go the rage when he tried to move again. Her hand connected with his jaw and his head snapped sideways. It made an agreeable crunch. Let's see if he's stupid enough to get up again. She paced a circle around the fallen man. Unable to resist the impulse, her foot connected with his ribs. There was another crack and she felt certain he was down for the count. Ow, broken ribs are a major bummer. Been there. She shook her head and turned her back on Warren's limp form.
Her face twisted into an amused grin as Buffy exited the cemetery by hopping the fence. After landing deftly, she took off down the street at a hard run. Home, shower, food, in that order... Then hunt. She pitched the stupid hat though the air. Manny, I quit. Surprising how good that felt.
***********
Buffy staggered to her feet. Her entire body ached. Looking around, she clutched her arms and shivered. She was chilled to the bone. An indescribable sense of fear pressed down on her. She tried to move her left leg to take a step and a sharp twinge shot through the knee. The pain twisted her expression and she cried out.
A soft whimper broke the silence of his crypt and Spike launch himself out of bed. Buffy? After quickly slipping his jeans on, he flew up the ladder and burst out the door, moving in the direction of the stifled plea. As he closed in on the scene, he had trouble believing what his eyes were telling him. Buffy was limping and weeping. I'd've heard it. Had to have been a dozen of 'em to do that to her. Or one really lucky bugger, he chided himself. "Everything alright, slayer?" he queried, cautiously approaching the blonde.
When Buffy tried to turn toward the voice, her leg folded sideways underneath her. Then a pair of strong cold arms caught her up, sweeping her off her feet. She peered hazily up into Spike's face and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Spike looked down at the pained expression and commented in a gentle tone, "I'm just going to take a stab and call that a 'no.' "
"Definitely 'no,' " Buffy confirmed as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Right then, let's get you inside and take a look at that leg," Spike offered soothingly. When he perceived a nod from the slayer, he began to move toward his crypt.
***********
Buffy exited the bathroom, toweling her hair dry. The house had been utterly quiet except for a sobbing noise coming from Willow's room when she'd arrived. Quickly making the rounds, she poked her nose in Dawn's door and found her sister safely asleep in bed. After silently closing the door, she made her way back to the witch's room. A soft, flickering, blue light radiated from under the door and her brows knit with curiosity as she gazed at it. "Will? You okay?" she asked in a soft voice.
Pulling her legs up to her chest defensively at the sound of the voice, Willow wept while her entire body coursed with unwanted energy. "Go away, Buffy," she choked thickly through the sobs.
A rattle issued from the doorknob when Buffy tried to turn it. "Will, lemme in," she demanded just a little too harshly.
Willow wiped her face furiously in frustration over her own weakness. A soft growl shook her slight form then she remarked, "What's it gonna be, Buff? Last night you asked me not to notice you. Tonight you're all about noticing me. How about you just go your way and I'll go mine?"
She asked. Buffy turned the doorknob in the hand and felt the locking mechanism snap. Her eyes narrowed as they fell on the muted blue glow that surrounded the witch. "Mind telling me exactly what's going on?" she snarled impatiently.
"Amy—" Willow started then gave up trying to speak over the irate slayer.
Buffy rounded on the witch. Her face was etched with fury as she spat, "I can't believe you, Will. Was all that talk about 'sorry' just bullshit? Don't you care about—" She resisted the urge to jerk Willow up to face her.
"Amy, Buffy—" Willow choked, placing her head in her hands.
"What about what happened with Dawn? How about me? I just worked a twelve hour shift at that shit hole to—" Buffy furiously began to pace the floor in front of the witch. "Never mind us, though. What about you? I can't sit here and watch you destroy yourself!" she growled.
Willow shot up off the floor and screamed, "Amy did this to me!" Without thinking, she shoved the slayer and she flew across the room, crashing into the dresser. "Do you think I'd do this on purpose?" She closed the gap between them and raged, "After all that? You think I'd—?" Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Dawn poked her head in the door and asked sleepily, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah... It's all good, Dawn. Go back to bed," Buffy instructed as she climbed to her feet and straightened her bathrobe. After Dawn cleared out, she gently pushed back, only moving the witch a few feet. "I'm not sure what you'd do, Will," she commented in a slightly calmer voice.
"Well, I-I sure as h-hell wouldn't do this," Willow stuttered, looking down at her hands. Some of the energy had dissipated during the fight and she nearly sighed with relief. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around her. She tried to pull away, but found it hopeless. "Buffy, don't, please," she pleaded thickly through her tears, unsure what the spell Amy had used would do to the slayer. Suddenly ashamed that her eyes might still be black from the corrupted magicks, she hung her head.
"Don't what, Will?" Buffy asked as she pressed her forehead against the witch's. Peering down, she watched the soft blue radiance fade, leaving only the dim hall light to illuminate the room. Her hand moved to the redhead's cheek, smoothing some of the tears away. "Better?" she whispered. As she felt Willow nod, her hand swept through soft red hair trailing gently around to cradle the back of her neck.
The delicate, musky fragrance of her friend permeated her senses and Buffy felt something stir inside her. A soft gasp slipped past her parted lips. All the energy of the spell and the fight coursed through her and she wanted nothing more than to seize the redhead in a passionate kiss. Her body seemed determined to work against her better judgment, but she managed to ignore the impulse. Enough weirdness for one night. What she really needs—what we really need is much less complicated.
Willow became uncomfortably aware that the slayer's actions were far too intimate for their 'friends' status. A kiss seemed to loom on the horizon. She could feel the arousal pouring off the woman in her arms. Her lips were so close that she briefly considered making the first move herself. It'd be so easy. One move. How stupid would it be? Do they even make a scale that high? 'Kay, so...monumentally stupid. Finally, she slowly withdrew and whispered, "What are you doing, Buffy?" Her hands moved to her face to wipe away the tears. They came to rest around the slayer's shoulders when she finished.
Buffy ignored the question, unsure exactly how to answer it. The only thing she really knew at that moment was that gazing into her friend's green eyes felt good. She started to caress the redhead's back with the hand that rested on her waist. Anything that actually felt good was so far removed from her recent experiences that she was reluctant to move, though she knew she should.
A soft sigh crept out and Willow calmed under the touch. Her lips curled into a delicate smile then she remarked, "Let me guess—clueless, right?"
"Pretty much," Buffy quipped with a small smile. That'd be me. The seconds ticked away while she stood there and simply held Willow. Finally, she suggested, "Get ready for bed. I'll be back."
Once the slayer made her exit, Willow stood there in low light that shown in through the windows. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust and during the time her mind was a jumble of thoughts. Finally she moved to sort through her dresser for something to wear and it hit her. Oh Goddess. Buffy's coming back to—she was... Her mind stumbled as she tried to resolve the thought. I could even smell her—the heat, the intensity, the energy... She pulled out her least flattering pair of tartan pajama pants and an old tee-shirt and retreated into the bathroom to change.
Willow locked the door and started to undress. I wonder what she thinks. What's gonna be waiting for me? What if there's a naked blonde in my bed when I get back? This sort of thing never used to be a problem. What changed? Did 'book geek' suddenly get sexy and no one bothered to tell me? 'Cause Buffy...umm...wow. No one ever missed the sexy...nope not missing that. Her brows knit as she considered, And she wanted me. A quick glance in the mirror yielded the same old Willow, appearing just 'ravishing' in her 'mascara down to the jaw line' look. She shrugged and continued to puzzle.
After slipping into the pajama bottoms, Willow washed the smeared makeup off her face and brushed her teeth. I'll just have to apologize and hope it doesn't hurt her. I mean, it can't get any worse, right? She pulled the tee-shirt over her head and her thoughts shifted. What was that about anyway? I mean, one minute she so mad I was almost afraid, the next I'm in her arms. Did she believe me?
Her mind went completely blank as Willow finished her nightly routine and slipped into bed, thankfully alone for the moment. Maybe she won't come. She'll think twice and understand it's a horrible idea. Several painful minutes crept by, then she heard water running in the bathroom. She tensed when Buffy entered the room and crawled into bed beside her.
Buffy turned onto her side, facing the witch's back. "I'm not gonna bite, Will, I promise. Look at me," she offered in a gentle voice.
Following the slayer's instructions, Willow turned onto her other side and met the awaiting gaze. In the low light she could just make Buffy's eyes out. There was something unusually kind and loving about the expression that greeted her. A tender smile warmed the blonde's features and it occurred to her she had dozens of questions, but at the moment she could think of only one. "Need an alarm?" she whispered, damning herself for breaking the silence. How long—have I ever seen that expression? Another tear seeped out and she quickly moved to wipe it away.
"Nope," Buffy replied frankly. The soft grin broke into a bright smile as she added, "I quit." Her hand went up to caress her friend's cheek.
Willow sobered a little at the idea of an unemployed housemate. "Do they know that yet?" she asked pensively, trying not to smile. I shouldn't condone this. It's irresponsible and bad.
Buffy shrugged. "They'll figure it out in the morning," she remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. Turning onto her back, she guided Willow to place her head in the curve of her shoulder. Her hand moved to caress the redhead's back. "There're other jobs, Will. I'm guessing I could find dozens that'd make me just as miserable. I think I'm gonna try to find one that doesn't."
Then again...this could be good. Her face settled onto the soft flannel pajama top and Willow relaxed under the soothing touch. Almost too familiar again, but in a weird way it feels right. She's treating me like an old lover—one she's been with for—well...forever. Maybe we are, without the 'lover' part? The questions started to run through her head again. It annoyed her that none of them had any real form. They were all jumbled and confused. Finally out of sheer desperation she simply asked, "Why?" hoping that the obvious counter-point would cause something to jump out.
Her brows knit for a moment as she considered which 'why' might concern Willow the most at the moment. Finally, she sorted through the mess enough to respond, "The sky's blue 'cause of the atmosphere," she sighed, "The meaning of life? If you have to ask, you're probably not ready to know." She brought her hand to her friend's temple and smoothed down the soft red hair. "The important 'why'...because I love you, Will. We've been running so long and so hard. Neither one of us remembers what's really important," another contented sigh slipped out, "It's this," she concluded in a sleepy whisper. Her lips brushed her friend's forehead in a tender kiss, then she shut her eyes.
Willow was utterly stunned. Her feelings were even more muddled than before Buffy spoke. Umm...wow, was about the most coherent thing up there, but she managed to resist the urge to say it. Instead her hand moved to her friend's stomach, which she gently caressed through the flannel pajama top. Eventually she settled enough to manage, "I love you too, Buffy."
***********
Spike pushed open the door to his crypt carrying a couple of small bags. He made his way to the bed in the lower level. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stared at the blonde lying there. "I brought you something to eat. The bloke at the pharmacy said take four of these on a full stomach to keep the swelling down," he offered as he took a seat next to Buffy.
Refusing to make eye contact, Buffy accepted the bags and sat up, pulling the blankets up to cover herself. She removed the contents from the paper sacks. Then she timidly started to eat the Chinese carryout Spike had brought her.
"There's pop here," Spike remarked. Taking out a can, he cracked the top and set it on the bedside table for her. His gaze turned to look at the injured leg. It should be healing. Strange things, these slayers... "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the leg. After receiving a nod, he kneeled down next to the bed and carefully rolled the blankets back off the injured limb. It was deep blue, nearly black on either side of the kneecap and swollen twice the size of the other knee. He reached into the bag from the pharmacy and pulled out an Ace bandage.
Buffy whimpered between bites, but continued to eat as the vampire wrapped her injured leg.
"I think it's just a bad sprain," Spike said in a comforting voice as he covered the leg back up. He stood up and made his way to the fridge, removing a foam container of blood. After taking a gulp he asked, "You ever hear a tune by The Misfits called Helena?"
Buffy shook her head 'no' and continued to eat like she was starved.
"It's about this film," Spike stated then took another sip from the foam container. "The picture's about a bloke who falls for a girl. Girl's his neighbor, right?" His eyes fell on the slayer and he smiled. "Anyway, this bird's real sassy...all fiery and willful." The cup moved to his lips again, but he didn't drink. Instead he said, "So, poor bloke—you really have to feel for him—he's heartbroken. Attractive fellow too, as they go: surgeon, lots of money—everything a man could want, 'cept the girl." He took a drink and lowered the cup. Then he moved back over to the bed and grabbed Buffy's left wrist, quickly snapping a handcuff to it. Promised myself, if the day ever came...no cutting off parts. Least not now, what with all this forward mobility. Back in the day, though... His expression twisted into a wicked sneer as he chuckled at his musing.
Buffy gasped and tried to pull away, but her wrist was wrenched to the headboard and locked in place. I'm useless! I still remember it all but, without the speed and strength, what am I? Nothing. Pet, in a horrifyingly literal sense. I can't even run. Tears welled up in her eyes. One crept out as she blinked and marked a trail down her cheek. She cast her gaze at her lap in frustration.
Spike moved away to continue his story. "One day the pretty little trollop gets hit by a car in front of the doctor's home. He runs to her rescue...all gallant and noble. When she wakes up, he tells her he had to amputate her legs."
Her face filled with horror as Buffy suppressed another gasp. Oh God! She couldn't bring herself to look up. Instead, she sat and helplessly trembled. Hatred filled her. She was utterly consumed by self-loathing. How could I let this happen? I caused this. It's my fault for dismissing him, letting him obsess, then—Christ—leading him on, and fucking him.
After setting the cup aside, Spike pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. A cold laugh shook him and he looked completely amused. "Right shirty little bint—just couldn't keep her mouth shut. She kept banging on about how pitiful this bloke was, so he amputated her arms too. Thing is, by the end of the film, she loved the ruddy barmpot." His gaze fell on the slayer. She'd abandoned her food and sat silently weeping.
"I'm not going to hurt you, pet. I will say I identified with the chap. I felt for him," Spike clutched his hand to his chest, "'Cause, see...he kept trying. He did everything, but it wasn't enough...it's never enough," he ranted, "Finally he'd had his fill." He paced back and forth a few times and took a drag off his smoke. His finger shot out, then he stabbed the air between himself and the blonde. A wicked smile twisted his face when she winced. Then he resumed his tale in a calmer voice, "That's the rub though...innit? Doesn't matter what you do. If the bird doesn't feel the same, then—" he sighed and took a drag off his smoke, "I think you do, though. You know...you understand...we're alike. You know we belong together. You're better than those pathetic rejects and that dismal grease trap.
"Finish your dinner and take some pills," Spike instructed, motioning to the food. He took another drag off his cigarette and turned to take a drink of blood. Then he stated, "We're leaving when you get done. Clem's gonna come and keep the riff raff from setting up while we're gone. He'll tell anyone that shows I'm off taking care of a few things."
Buffy was terrified, but she did as he instructed as best she could with one hand. When she finished, he came over and locked the cuffs to both her wrists. She was almost grateful that he allowed her hands to be cuffed in front of her.
Spike collected the trash into a bag. Then he pulled the slayer up to face him, supporting her weight. She whimpered again and he wondered what was wrong with her. She's weak as a rabbit.
Buffy's gaze fell to the floor at the vampire's feet. Unable to control the fear, she trembled while he examined her as though she were a prize.
After a moment's careful study of the beautiful, naked blonde, Spike knew he was doing the right thing. She never let me look at her like this. He picked her up and carried her across the room to a table. His arm swept across the surface. A pile of trinkets and candles flew across the floor. Once the table was cleared, he turned the slayer away from him and bent her across the table. He stood back to appreciate the view as he unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his jeans.
Buffy gasped when he thrust inside her. One cold hand pressed the handcuffs to the tabletop while the other coiled a loop of her hair. She lifted her head as he pulled back and began to pump against her. Her body trembled as he pounded away. The impression she was giving was that she enjoyed it, but actually she was terrified and freezing. I'm not sure what to do? I hoped maybe if I ignored him he'd leave, but now... Guess I got the leaving part right.
Buffy stood up when he raised her off the table. There was no use in fighting. She knew she could barely lift her own body weight. Her cuffed hands looped behind his neck. It's like that stupid test. What was it called? Cruci-something: my eighteenth birthday gift from those other British assholes. What is it about English guys? I wonder if they're screwing with me again. She gasped when he started to caress the folds of her sex. The pressure and the rhythm pushed her over the edge and she cried out as her body gave in. Then she felt faint and the world went black.
When her eyes finally cracked open again, she was sitting in a strange car, speeding down a two lane highway. The only illumination came from the dash and the headlamps. She was wrapped in his coat and the liner stuck uncomfortably to her bare, damp skin. This discomfort was quickly eclipsed by the stabbing pain in her leg and a duller pain from her throat. She lifted her head and put her hands to her neck. A fresh scab met her touch and she winced.
"Yeah...sorry about that, pet. Didn't take much. I reckoned it'd be easier on you if you were all unconscious-like," Spike commented from the driver's seat. He reached over and rumpled a bag, then added, "There's sweets here and pop at your feet. Should help."
Buffy looked down at her bound wrists and leaned her head against the cool glass without comment.