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Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except for Mia, Bryan, Daniel, and Cassandra. Joss Whedon owns all of the others.
Chapter 5: Let the Games Begin

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Cassandra lay in the hospitable bed, thinking again how utterly ridiculous the last week had been. They had actually caught the gangsters who were being tried for assault, but the thing that amazed her more than them being beaten up was the fact that she had stood up for Mia and Bryan.

They were enemies. Something was wrong here. Enemies do not stand up for enemies. Friends, yes. But not enemies.

Riiight…

Even more hideously ironic was the fact that neither Brian nor Mia had actually gotten really hurt, and they were the ones who’d started it off in the first place. Of course, they had suffered heavy bruising and a few minor broken bones, but as she remembered Daniel’s injuries, she winced. His femur had been broken in three different places. That was just… nasty.

Turned out that their attackers had been drunk. Alcohol, testosterone, muscle, and a sadistic nature really didn’t go well together.

She shifted, and winced as her own broken ribs exploded with pain. At least they were getting time off school. But it seemed so unreal. They’d heard of that particular gang and the beatings they dealt out to those who crossed them, but she’d never expected it to happen to her. She’d always thought the stories had been hyped up, as they had never been arrested, or even complained about to the police. They had confirmed her suspicions. It seemed that the leader had had a very bad day, a money deal with a rival gang leaving him with a substantial loss. They’d gotten drunk, and then they’d taken out the frustration on them.

Her parents would have killed her for getting into that situation if they’d cared, she thought bitterly. No, the only thing she was worrying about was money. The hospital bills were a problem. And another problem…
Guilt washed over her as she thought of Daniel again. It had been her fault. If only she hadn’t stepped in…
But then, Mia and Bryan would have had these injuries. Of course, she’d have preferred it if Daniel had remained unhurt, but it seemed that she couldn’t win, either way.

Sighing, she lay down again, thanking God that at least her legs weren’t broken like Daniel’s. Her arm had been snapped like a toothpick in the first assault. Everything was very bad, painful, and as she’d thought before, highly unrealistic. A few bruises she could understand, but why the gang had a penchant for breaking bones, she had no idea…

Cassandra only noticed the strange dizziness when the world swirled around her, and then turned entirely black.

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Even I was surprised, I’ll admit, when Giles pulled out the finely honed stake. I was concentrating more on thinking about the seemingly half-baked plan that Spike had thrown together, and then realizing that it actually might work. Spike almost leapt backwards at the sight, and I moved to stop Giles. But then he started speaking again, and I fell back.

“Spike, this is your last chance. If you are lying to us, I’m offering you a quick death now. And if I find out that you’ve betrayed us again, I can almost guarantee you’ll wish that you’d taken it.”

A hint of the Ripper flashed in his eyes, and I could see that the vamp believed him. I half-expected him to admit that yes, he had betrayed us. But the sincerity with which he’d gestured, and babbled, and prodded at Willow’s computer kinda convinced me. Maybe I was just too gullible. And… damn, how did Giles manage to sound so Rippery, yet still so… British?

“I can assure you, Watcher, I’m not lying. Now put that thing away before someone gets hurt.”

“Tell us why you’re helping us then.”

Spike looked exasperated. “Oh bloody hell. I already told you. It’s because Adam was going to double-cross me,” his eyes flashed golden for a split second. “And I really hate it when people double-cross me. I’d also like to keep my head, thank-you very much.”

“What makes you think that we won’t take it off for you after this?” Xander asked. Typical Xander…

Spike smirked at him. “I’m not stupid,” he turned around to face me. “Slayer, unless you promise not to stake me or get in my way, I’m not helping you.”

“Haven’t I already made a similar promise?” I asked, slightly irritated.

“Making sure,” he shrugged implacably, that irritating smirk decorating his face. “I’m not going through all of this just so you can stake me afterwards.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Willow started to reassure him. At my glare, she quickly back-pedalled. “Okay, maybe we would.”

“Well? Do you promise?”

I was tempted for a second to tell him we didn’t need his help and stake him, but I quickly suppressed it. In this fight against Adam, we needed all the help we could get. Grudgingly, I nodded. “Promise.”

He visibly relaxed. The tension that had filled him ever since he first came here slowly drained away, and he actually let out an audible sigh of relief. “Good. Okay, now you guys think up a way to kill Adam. I’ve done my bit.”

With that, he collapsed in a chair, and looked expectantly at us, waiting.

“Well then,” Giles started. “Let’s get on to Adam. How do we kill him?”

The answer came automatically to me. “Uranium-Cornium, his power source. We’ve got to remove it. It’s somewhere in his chest, near his spine, according to Riley.”

“Oh that’s great,” Xander threw up his hands. “Why don’t we get him to lie down so we can do some exploratory surgery?

“Well, what about magic?” Willow chimed in. “Some kind of uranium extractor?”

We all looked at her. She blushed. “Okay, well, I was trying…”

Giles broke the silence like he usually did. His glasses wobbled on his nose as he held up his finger triumphantly. “A paralysis spell!”

“Yay!” Xander exclaimed. “Now how do we work it?”
Giles flicked through the books on his shelves, until he found the one he was looking for. He thumbed through the pages until he found it, and then he frowned.

“Uh oh,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

Giles didn’t even look up as he continued frowning his very, very, British frown. “The problem is that the caster must be an experienced witch… within striking range… and the spell is in Sumerian...”

“And this is what you get when you take French in High School instead of Sumerian,” Xander joked.

“Geez, what was I thinking?” I laughed.

“So, no problem, then,” Xander reasoned. “All we need is combo-Buffy! Buffy with the Slayer strength, Giles’ multi-lingual know-how, and Willow’s witchy power. And me, of course, to hold all of ya together.”

We gave him the same look we’d given Willow, only this time, we didn’t have arched eyebrows. He mistook it anyway. “Yeah, don’t tell me, I know I’m full of helpful suggestions,” he grumbled sarcastically.

Giles pushed his glasses up. “As a matter of fact, you are.”

I smiled, and then I saw Spike studying me through half-lidded eyes. “What?”

He looked at me, matching my grin. “Well, when are we gonna get this show on the road?”

“Giles?”

Giles and Willow sat, poring over the book. At our question, they looked up briefly.

“Tonight.”

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“Nervous?” Willow asked Xander, fidgeting slightly herself. Anyone could see that she felt uncertain.
.
“No, I’m just full of that Kamikaze spirit,” Xander replied.

“Hey, I’m going to be here watching your back, you know,” Spike grinned cockily.

“Yeah. I’m sooo grateful for that,” Xander sniped back.

“Now now, Xander. Just because this is going to fail doesn’t mean we have to be so negative,” Giles commented as they finally reached the place they were going to split up.

“The enjoining spell isn’t powerful enough to take down Adam?” Buffy asked worriedly.

“Oh, it’s very powerful. And also extremely dangerous.”

They paused outside the caves, and then Spike nodded at Buffy. “Here’s where you leave us, Slayer. Get your abseiling stuff ready and get to the frat house. We’ll be in place in ten minutes, so I suggest you hurry.”

“No problem to it,” Buffy grinned. Then her face dropped, suddenly, as if in realization. Glancing at Willow, she nodded, slightly. Before Xander knew it, he was being hugged on both sides by both the redhead and the blonde.

“Xander, you know we love you, right?” Buffy asked, her eyes wide and shining.

“ ‘Cause we totally do,” Willow declared, hugging him to her even tighter.

Xander looked from one to the other, and Spike was pleased to note that a growing horror seemed to encompass him. “Oh God, we’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

“No, we just missed you.” Buffy hugged him again, and then reluctantly released him, only to turn on Giles.
“And you know, we… we love you too, right, Giles?”
Giles smiled down fondly at his Slayer and Willow, stroking their hair, even as a part of him was supremely shocked by such an open display of affection. “I know, Buffy, Willow. And I…”

He cleared his throat, but couldn’t seem to say it. Instead, he felt piercingly blue eyes bore through his back, and a exasperated sigh. Disgusted, he sighed, disentangled himself, and turned to look at his fellow, albeit dead, Englishman. “What is it?” he snapped.

“You lot make me sick,” Spike shot back. “Are you always with the huggin’ and oohin’ and ahhin’ before a fight? If I’d known, I would’ve ambushed you lot and you’d never have known it.”

“Shut up, Captain Peroxide,” Xander summed up succinctly. “Let’s go now, anyway. Before I stake him.”

“You’re right,” Willow said, shaking her head. “Okay, um… I guess we should get into our positions?”

“Yes, we should get ready,” Giles agreed. “Up to a quick run, Buffy?”

Buffy nodded, and sprinted away. “I’ll meet you in 314,” she called back over her shoulder.

Spike watched her run off, and then began leading the three others to where they had to be. He had examined the map of the Initiative extensively in those three days, but he’d also done some snooping around himself. No-one would find them, where they were. They’d be safe. It was almost as if Maggie Walsh had deliberately kept the small room adjoining 314 secret and sewer connections running underneath it for him.
As he lost sight of the last glimpse of gold, he felt his unbeating heart jump, and a cocky smile lit his face.
Let the games begin.

8 8 8

I still actually don’t understand what had happened to me during those days I’d spent huddled in my crypt, planning. I've never really planned that much, you know.Just jumped in, with a 'what the hell' kinda thing. I've never needed to plan. I just feel the thrill of the fight,whether I win or lose, it doesn't matter. Of course, I generally win. That's why I'm standin' here right now. But I've never really planned.

Think the only reason I did it this time was 'cos I knew if I didn't, I'd have a stake in my heart, and this time, I couldn't fight back. So, during those days,I think something just jumped on me, tackled me when I wasn’t looking. Damned unsporting, if you ask me. If you’re going to attack someone, you should at least give ‘em a fair warning so it’s a fair fight. I’ve got some sense of honour. Sure, I know I said I’d ambush them if I ever caught ‘em unawares and hugging, but d’you think I’d actually do it? There’s quite a lot of differences between what I say and what I do, you know.

Oh, you didn’t? Well then you’d better just wise up, then.

Anyway, I reckon I was so deep in concentrating on hacking into the Initiative that my demon and whatever had a little tussle while I wasn’t aware of ‘em. Giles calls it my heart. I call it ‘that stupid prick’ or ‘bloody conscience’, depending what mood I’m in. Sure, you lot can all yabber on about a soul being a bloody conscience, but I don’t think so. Remember? Soulless evil demon? D’you really think Angelus could turn into the great Poof if you just added a conscience?

A soul’s something deeper. Stronger. Sometimes it seems close, sometimes it doesn’t, no matter what you have. It’s something that’s so powerful, it’s hard to explain. It’s something that all the scientists and philosophers in the world can work on, but never will be able to categorize and file neatly away on their stupid bloody clipboards. They can make their theories, and if they want, they can do little experiments, but they’ll never get it exactly right.

Because it’s not meant to be gotten exactly right. It’s just supposed to be, without getting analysed and all.

Bloody hell, I’m soundin’ like the Poof himself. That’s it. I’m done for this session. Stupid prick! Talkin’ so nice and sweet just to know how this Big Bad ticks. You… you… stupid prick!

What, you’re insulted? Oh… you already know bits of the story? Pfeh, you don’t know half of it… wait… you’re actually tryin’ to help me? By writin’ all of this down? You’ve got to be kidding me!

Fine, fine, fine. Come tomorrow. And if I’m drinking, leave.





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