"Maybe I did the spell wrong, and we're not looking in the right place," Willow offered softly. "I'd never done it before, and I am pretty new to the whole witch thing."
"No," Spike said, shaking his head, yet not turning to look at the girl. "Buffy was here. Her scent's still fresh." He leveled his eyes with the spot where it was the strongest—a small, metal cage—and shivered.
"Would you say she's been gone for long, Spike?" Giles asked.
"No, not long. From the strength of her scent, I'd say we just missed her."
Giles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone, then cursed. "Bloody hell, I can't get reception in this damn place. I'll be right back."
Spike turned, but before he could ask the Watcher who he was calling, Giles was already out the door.
"We'll find her, Spike," Willow said after a moment.
"We have to," Spike replied. "I love her so bloody much, I can't…" He stopped, forcing his emotions back in check before he started blubbering in front of the girl. "They've hurt her. I can smell her blood in here. And they kept her in there…" He pointed to the cage.
Willow gasped. It was small, probably only enough room to sit or curl up in, and it looked hard and cold—something she'd think it was inhumane to stick a dog into, never mind a human woman. "We'll save Buffy," Willow assured Spike again, although she knew as she said it the words were as much for herself as for him.
Moments later, Giles came bursting back into the warehouse. "Come on. I think we've got a break."
"What's going on?" Spike asked.
"I'll explain it all in the car. Hurry now. We mustn't waste any time."
Agreeing, Spike and Willow followed Giles out of the warehouse.
"What do you mean we don't have permission for take off?"
Quentin Travers's lieutenant cowered. "I'm dreadfully sorry, sir, but that's the word from air traffic control. It appears that not all is in order with our flight plan."
"That's ridiculous!" Travers bellowed. "Don't they know who I am!?"
"I tried to tell them you're important, sir. They wouldn't listen."
Travers seethed. "This won't do. We need to secure our cargo back in England."
"I know, sir. The pilot is doing all he can to get clearance, but they're refusing to let us go."
Travers slammed his fist against the side of the plane. "Then make them stop refusing! We have no time to waste with this nonsense!"
"I'll do everything I can, sir," his lieutenant replied before hurrying off again.
Travers swore under his breath. Perhaps it would prove to be less trouble to simply kill the girl after all.
Buffy felt herself swimming back towards consciousness, though this time, she remained still. Her mind was foggy, but something inside of her struggled to remind her every time she'd let on that she was awake before, something bad had happened.
She lay still, her eyes closed, as awareness began to return. Her body ached and her head throbbed, but Buffy forced herself to stay silent. She knew she wasn't alone, wherever she was, and as she listened to the nearby voices become clearer, her stomach turned.
"She is a pretty little thing. Tits are a little small for me, but I could do with a handful."
A second man chuckled. "Or a mouthful. You think Mr. Travers would let us have a go with 'er?"
"He should," a third voice added. "We've already been through enough trouble getting the chit, we deserve some reward. She broke Reggie's nose."
A fourth man spoke up then. "I don't think I'd want to touch her. The way she fought when we grabbed her—that wasn't like a human. I don't want to stick my cock in no demon cunt. Might bloody fall off."
The longer Buffy listened to their conversation, the harder time she had being still. She needed to get out of there, especially if they were seriously considering what they were currently so callously discussing. Tentatively, she cracked one eye open and saw that she was on an airplane, shoved in what appeared to be a cargo hold. The men who were speaking were a few feet away, seated with their backs to her. She tried to move her arms then her legs, and found they'd bound her hands, yet not her feet.
A slow smile crossed Buffy's face. Apparently, they'd believed whatever they'd drugged her with would be enough to keep her out for longer. Idiots…
Adrenaline pumping through her, Buffy got to her feet. She tensed her arms then pulled, snapping the thick rope around her wrists as if it were mere string.
One of the men turned and saw her, surprise on his face for a moment before he shouted to the others to get her. Buffy's smile didn't falter even as they rushed her.
This time, she was ready for them.
"Buffy's awake," Spike announced from the passenger's seat of Giles's car. "And bloody hell, she's pissed off."
"Is she all right?" Giles asked, giving the car more gas as he did. "Is she hurt?"
Spike frowned, concentrating for a moment. "She's in some pain, but she seems to be ignoring it." He swallowed. "She's preparing to fight."
"Who?"
Spike cast a quick, annoyed look at the Watcher. "I can't read her mind. All I can do is get a feel for her emotions. Someone's pissed her off something fierce, and she's wanting to rip them to shreds."
"Can you tell me if we're heading in the right direction at least?" Giles asked.
"Yeah. We're close to her now, and we're getting closer." Spike fought to remain seated in the car, telling himself that even with his vampiric speed, this was most likely the fastest way to Buffy. But his demon was screaming at him to run to his mate and hurt whomever it was threatening her now.
Instead, he gripped the side of the seat until he felt the stuffing slipping through his fingers and hoped they could make it before Buffy was hurt any more.
Quentin Travers was not currently what he'd call a happy man. Air traffic control was still refusing to let them take off, claiming now that their papers were not in well-enough order for them to cross overseas. The argument that they'd been good enough to allow them to leave England had done little to tip things in Travers's favor.
Nothing on this trip was going in his favor, as a matter of fact. He'd just gotten the call that the newest Slayer had been identified, a teenaged girl living in South Boston. From the preliminary reports on her, she sounded like she'd be headstrong and willful—and nothing but a problem for the Council. If this was what he had to work with now, perhaps he'd been too quick in eliminating the previous Slayer. She had at least been willing to defy her own Watcher in favor of Travers himself, though the fact that she'd taken a vampire as a lover still suggested a rebellious streak he hadn't wished to deal with.
And now he was given a girl who had had a rap sheet almost as soon as she'd been able to walk. "Frying pan, fire, Quentin," he thought.
He needed to get back to England and regroup. There, he could devise a plan to take out this Faith Lehane as well and hope that next time, the Powers That Be decided to make the Slayer someone a little more…manageable. He really did wish he could cut out the middleman as far as the actual Calling of Slayers was concerned and be able to choose his own. Perhaps that was what he should be looking into. How could the Council of Watchers ever hope to retain their control over the Slayers if they continually had to deal with such disobedient girls?
Suddenly, the door of the plane burst open, and Travers watched as one of his men sailed past him and landed on the tarmac. The man groaned, blood seeping from his nose.
Fear curled in his belly as Travers turned and saw Buffy still engaged in combat with his other three men—and seeming to be winning. Despite the fact that she was much smaller than any of her opponents, Buffy had gained the advantage, the speed and strength of the men no match for hers. Travers watched in horror as she dispatched of the next three as easily as she had the first, then jumped down out of the plane.
Travers knew in an instant he'd grossly miscalculated in his plan to get Buffy to work for him. It was a shame to think of all that power and potential going to waste, but she was more of a loose cannon than he'd predicted. And from the way she was looking at him now, Travers found himself wondering if she were as much demon as girl. Her eyes seemed to blaze with the fire of anger, while her mouth was set in a cold line of determination. Blood ran down the side of her face as well as spotted her clothing.
She struck him as being like something primal—and enraged.
Buffy lifted her arm, and it was then that Travers realized she was holding a gun, most likely one she had removed from one of his men. She pointed it at him, gripping the weapon tightly with two hands.
"You killed my mother!"
Travers raised his hands. "Buffy, dear, let's not be hasty. Your mother was killed by a vampire—your companion, William the Bloody, as a matter of fact. Now, I have no doubt that he has filled your mind with all sorts of lies about me in order to hide from you what truly happened, but I can assure you…"
"You're the one with the lies!" Buffy yelled, her hands shaking around the gun. Angry tears streamed down her face, stinging the cuts there, but she ignored them. "You had her murdered! You wanted the power that was hers. Hers!"
"Child, you're mistaken," Travers insisted. "William the Bloody is the true villain here. Why, that's why we came and retrieved you—to try to get you away from him so we could bring you somewhere safe and undo whatever sort of brainwashing the monster's done to you."
"Shut up!" Buffy screamed, the sheer force of her voice making Travers jump. "You tell me one more lie, and I swear I will pull this goddamn trigger!"
"Buffy, dear, I…"
Buffy squeezed the trigger and a bullet ripped through the night air. Travers crumpled to the ground, his breathing labored as he clutched his wounded leg.
"How many do you think you could live through, huh?" Buffy asked, moving so she was standing over him. Travers looked up and saw the gun was now aimed right for his head.
"Buffy, please…"
"Do you think she begged? Do you think my mother wished more than anything in that moment that she could keep her life?"
Travers shook with fear and pain. "I…"
"Tell me you're sorry. Tell me you're sorry you took my mother away from me."
He couldn't deny it any longer—she had him defeated. He was staring death in the face now, and it was all he could do to keep from sobbing for mercy. "I…I'm sorry…"
"It's not good enough!" Buffy yelled. "You took her away, and I can never have her back! I want you to rot in hell, you pathetic son of a bitch."
Buffy cocked the gun, ready to fire again when she heard Spike calling to her.
"Buffy! Stop!"
So what do you think of that cliffhanger, huh? Did I leave you on the edge of your seat?
Please take the time to review!