Chapter 12
Lost in the Storm
Margot hurried through the automatic doors that led into Sunnydale Hospital’s emergency wing, flinching as they closed behind her. They shut with such a sound of finality.
Claire had called her mom two hours ago and given her a boatload of bad news; the Slayer had gone missing, Margot’s father had suffered a heart attack and she still hadn’t heard from Ethan.
Margot had nixed Claire’s offer to leave the apartment and go in her stead. Margot was Roger Chaplaine’s Successor as well as his daughter; it was her place to be at his side. She couldn’t hide any longer no matter the consequences, so she’d banished her memories to a back burner and phoned Drake for a ride.
Crossing through the quiet reception area she stopped in front of the glass partition at the nurse’s station. “Please could you tell me where my father, Roger Chaplaine is now? They brought him in earlier; he’d suffered a heart attack.”
Waiting impatiently while the nurse punched buttons on her computer console, Margot heard someone arrive at her side. “Ms. Chaplaine?”
She turned to see a tall Englishman. “Yes. Are you the doctor?”
“No, my name is Rupert Giles. I was with your father when he suffered the heart attack.” Giles lowered his voice. “I’m Buffy Summer’s Watcher. May I speak with you privately?”
Margot felt a prickle of fear. “Is my father alright? Where is he Mr. Giles?”
Giles placed his hand on Margot’s arm and gently steered her away to a private corner. “Your father suffered a very mild heart attack and is resting comfortably in a private room. Kyle’s with him. The doctors want to keep him several hours for observation, although he’s adamant about leaving as soon as possible.”
“He’s very stubborn. I doubt they’ll be able to convince him to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.” She searched the Watcher’s face. “But there’s something else you need to tell me.”
“Actually, there are several important things we need to discuss before joining your father. Perhaps I could persuade you to have a quick cup of coffee with me?”
“Very well.”
Margot blew on the hot coffee before taking a tentative sip. Grimacing, she set the Styrofoam cup on the table and surveyed the small cafeteria. At three o’clock in the morning, the only other occupants were the two nurses talking quietly at a corner table. Satisfied, she turned back to the Englishman.
“What do you need to say Mr. Giles? In my experience when a Watcher wants to speak with me it’s never good news.”
“First, Buffy has vanished, tracking a Thesa soldier from your daughter’s apartment. I sent Spike to locate her but as of yet, I haven’t heard anything, so I have to assume she is still missing.”
Compassion crossed her face. “My daughter told me when she telephoned earlier. I’m terribly sorry.”
“I felt you needed to be aware of a fluid situation.” Giles set his own cup down. “Also, your father and I have reached an agreement to work together, until your installation.”
Margot’s mouth set in a hard line. “I don’t want the Watcher’s Council involved in either my personal affairs or those of the Imperial Council.”
“At this point I’m working independently of our Council, continuing to serve as the Slayer’s Watcher in the field. In this spirit of cooperation, your father harnessed his personal powers in an effort to locate Buffy. It’s his spell aiding Spike.”
“I’m sure the vampire will locate her, he seems most resourceful and unusually committed to your Slayer. I’ve placed a call to Ethan to see if he’s heard anything, he had a meeting with the Overlord within the hive earlier. Unfortunately, until he gets closer to a cell tower, we won’t know anything.”
She opened a sugar packet, dumping the contents in her coffee. “Mr. Giles, I need to be honest with you. I dislike Watchers. The Watcher’s Council has screwed around with my life and the lives of other wizards far too much in the past. However, I’m willing to make an exception in your case, based on my father’s decision. He’s always been an astute judge of character. It’s absolutely imperative that my plan reach its conclusion and frankly, the Slayer is an asset that I can’t afford to ignore.”
Giles watched the wizard add cream to the cup. The strain she was under evident in the worry lines that creased her forehead and bracketed her mouth, while the slump of her shoulders spoke of utter exhaustion. Yet, she had such inner strength; he could see it in the way she held herself rigidly under control. Here was someone who would never crack under the pressures of leadership. His respect for her arose a notch.
Continuing to observe her from behind his glasses while Margot stirred her coffee, Giles read courage, intelligence and compassion in her face. When she finally looked up and met his eyes, he witnessed the final necessary requirement the woman in front of him possessed which had allowed her ascension to the highest position within the Imperial Wizard Council. The signature of raw power.
Margot thrummed. With his previous training, Giles wondered that he hadn’t noticed before now. The tendrils were so strong he could almost reach out and grasp them. This wizard, not yet installed, already held more personal power than anyone he’d ever met, including her father.
When she receives all the power that goes along with the office, she’ll be a truly formidable wizard.
Shaking down the urge to touch her, Giles concentrated on the conversation. “There are things in play of which you are not aware. Once my father is safely home and the Slayer has returned, we’ll continue our conversation.”
Crumpling the empty cup, the Successor dismissed him. “Right now, I want to see my father.”
Giles nodded. “Allow me to show you the way.”
*****
Waiting quietly in the cross tunnel Spike watched the platoon of soldiers march past.
Since he’d left Rayne, he’d passed two such groups and several other demons in groups of two or three, usually carrying on conversations in that incomprehensible clicking language that was giving him a headache.
To keep from being noticed, Spike had perfected a technique of standing with his head down and his shoulders hunched. The passing soldiers either couldn’t see the lack of neck scars or just didn’t care. They ignored him completely, pushing past Spike in their haste to arrive at their destinations.
Spike carefully broke a cigarette in two. At the first junction, he’d hit on a plan to mark the route back through the maze of tunnels. Each time he came to another split in the tunnel, he’d peel the wrapper from a cigarette and press a little shredded tobacco deep into the wall’s slime. Kentucky made bread crumbs.
Impossible to detect in the dim light, the tobacco was also virtually undetectable by smell, except by the vampire. Dropping the pack of cigarettes back in his pocket, Spike turned into the last cross tunnel.
After a quarter mile, he noticed the floor finally flattened out, he had arrived at the lowest level of the hive. Slowing down, he concentrated, listening for anything that would alert him to the Slayer’s whereabouts. There. Buffy was somewhere farther down this very tunnel. Hoping that his luck continued to hold, Spike hurried in her direction.
*****
Buffy’s stomach growled again. She hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday and she was starving. You’d think even stupid bug demons would feed their prisoners.
Sitting up, she stretched and took inventory. The brief nap had banished her headache and her leg felt better. Checking the bruising on her calf, she discovered it was nearly gone, so it was time to test her leg again.
Using the wall for leverage, she stood up. Carefully skirting the puddle, she walked the length of the cell and back. She still limped but the pain had lessened. It would do for now.
Hoping the partially healed leg meant that some of her Slayer strength had also returned, Buffy gripped two of the iron bars and pulled. Still nothing. She was moving to check another set when she heard the first outside noise since she’d awakened incarcerated.
There it is again. What is causing that racket?
She quickly turned off the light on her bracelet and watched the door. A few seconds later, a Thesa soldier appeared. Staring at the prisoner, it hissed and clicked.
Confused, the Slayer didn’t respond. Waving its arms, the demon moved into the room and continued the same annoying incomprehensible chatter, only louder this time.
Frustrated, Buffy rattled the bars. “I’m not deaf, you moron! Take me to your leader! Do you understand? I want to speak to the boss! Now! Did you get any of that, you stupid cockroach?!”
At the Slayer’s frustrated yelling, the soldier jerked away from the cell. More loud noises filtered from the tunnel outside and the demon abandoned its prisoner to peer out the door.
Frustrated at not being able to see what was going on, Buffy listened to the escalating noises. Scuffling and other mysterious sounds coupled with loud demon speech bounced around the stone walls. There were so many echoes; she couldn’t be sure of what was really happening.
It sounds like a fight. Hopefully they’re killing each other off in some sort of demon coup.
The strange noises outside the room suddenly stopped. Buffy’s jailer made a hissing noise and pulled out a knife, as a second Thesa also carrying a knife, charged through the door. The second demon leaped toward the jailer.
It is a coup. She watched as the two bugs grappled with each other. The second Thesa demon was really fast. Whirling around the small space brandishing a serrated knife, it overcame the jailer, plunging the knife deeply into its chest.
Buffy stared at Mr. Tasmanian Devil. Standing there cleaning off the knife, there was something familiar about him, something about the way he fought. She was trying to place what was off when the demon spoke. “Really Slayer, ‘take me to your leader’? It was a Thesa soldier, not Marvin the Martian.”
Buffy watched as the Thesa demon did something to its hand, causing it to shimmer briefly and suddenly the blond vampire stood there.
“Spike.”
“Ready to go home pet? I could hear your stomach growlin’ thirty feet away.” He smirked. “Of course, if you’re really that hungry, I heard they’ll be serving lunch in a couple hours. We could stick around, force an invite.”
Buffy grinned. It was good to see the vampire. “No, I think I’ll wait ‘til we get back to Sunnydale. I don’t know how to pronounce the word for ‘ketchup’ and I’m pretty sure I’d need at least a vat.”
“As long as you don’t let that stomach give us away.”
“My stomach wasn’t that loud.” Buffy pouted. Damn vampire hearing.
Spike grinned. “I actually heard your stomach growl before your heartbeat. For a minute there, I thought it was another kind of demon.”
Spike had taken in the Slayer’s situation and it was only a matter of seconds before he had the cell door open. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, but I won’t be running any marathons today.”
Spike searched the Slayer’s face. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he nodded. “Okay, let’s go, then. I don’t know how many next of kin will be along shortly.”
Helping her out of the cell, they stopped by the side of the fallen soldier and Spike nudged the demon with his boot. “Pet, turn your light on for a minute and take a good luck at that bloke’s neck. Our disguise needs to include those scars.” Buffy leaned over the fallen demon, aiming the pencil thin beam at its neck. “Okay, got it.”
She touched the bracelet and thought about the Thesa in front of her. A minute later, two Thesa soldiers were slowly walking toward the first cross tunnel. Although replete with the requisite scarring, they were speaking in English.
“How did you figure out where I was?” Buffy pitched her voice low.
“The Imperial magicked up a trinket that mimicked your movements, so I could follow your trail from the apartment building.”
Spike noticed the Slayer limped more in the steep uphill tunnel. Gently, he lifted her arm and placed it around his neck and slid his arm around her waist. “We’ve got a long hike ahead of us, pet. Lean on me as much as you can and save your leg for company.”
Buffy grimaced. “I wish our wings really worked.” She could feel Spike’s arm, clad in the duster’s soft leather, holding her firmly around the waist. “So you followed my trail everywhere?”
“I caught every bit of your shadow act, Slayer, even the bloody shoppin’. By the way, that yellow skirt in Friedman’s window? Don’t do it, not your style. But the black dress? Now that would be fetching with your hair.”
“How … wait. You liked the black dress better than the yellow skirt? Why? I mean, how did you know about the skirt or the dress?”
Helping Buffy up the steep incline, Spike filled her in on how he’d received the ring, Kyle’s spell, the activation, and then how he’d traced her to the Thesa hive.
“I lost your other self and the trail inside the tunnels, but then I came across Rayne and he helped me out.”
“Ethan Rayne was here again? Why?”
“Seems the Successor changed the date for the meetin’. She’s moved it up to day after tomorrow. Wouldn’t tell Rayne why. She’s also moved the location from wherever it was originally.”
“Where’s it going to be now?”
“Right here at our very own scenic Hellmouth.”
Buffy’s mouth thinned. “We’re going to need to have a little talk with wizard Margot when we get back.”
Any more conversation had to be postponed when a battalion of Thesa soldiers marched through a cross tunnel ten yards ahead of the couple. Spike dropped his arm and the couple separated, walking slowly so Buffy wouldn’t limp. When the sound of their footsteps couldn’t be heard any longer, Spike reached out automatically to help the Slayer again.
Walking past yet another cross tunnel, Buffy began to realize how vast the Thesa Overlord’s underground realm really was. She’d been spirited into Demon Central and was starting to get the feeling she wouldn’t have made it out again, if it hadn’t been for Spike. By coming in after her, the vampire had saved her life. You trusted him and he came through.
Warily watching another large platoon of soldiers following the first, she prayed the joint glamour would hold. The wizards certainly managed to create unusual spells. She felt exactly like usual Buffy and if she turned her head slightly, she could see usual Spike. But whenever they stopped to allow demons to pass, everyone else around them just saw two more anonymous soldiers.
Buffy was very aware of Spike’s arm around her waist, although the familiar scent of leather and tobacco that reminded her of the vampire was gone. The magick had replaced it with a sort of nothing scent. Neutral. It was enough to give anyone a serious wiggins.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the vampire tilt his head. Nostrils flaring, he located the next beacon and oriented the couple. “This way,” he murmured.
Spike followed his tobacco trail, walking confidently through the tunnels. Enjoying the feel of his arm around the Slayer’s waist, he was loath to remove it even when soldiers approached. Only the thought of putting her in more danger gave him the impetus to move aside.
The magicks had removed any trace of her perfume or personal scent, but Spike didn’t care. He’d found her. The Slayer was here, warm and alive and that’s all that mattered. He was going to make bloody sure they both got out safely. Unconsciously, he gripped her a little bit tighter, pulling her closer into his side.
Buffy felt the vampire tighten his grip. Surreptitiously she searched his face, but she couldn’t tell what Spike was thinking, except that he looked determined. But there was something else that she could see reflected deep in his eyes. Contentment. Buffy sighed and nestled her head back against his arm. I know just how he feels.
Spike heard the Slayer’s sigh and felt her lean back against his arm. He knew she must be exhausted, he’d seen the conditions of the cell where she’d been held. He tried to read her expression but the dim flickering lights made it impossible, even for him. They really should try to take another rest break soon.
Deep inside the hive, a gong was being struck. The sound traveled through the tunnels, reverberating against the solid stone walls, filling every space with the harsh cacophony. Over and over it continued, until every tunnel rang with the sound.
Buffy clapped her hands over her ears. “What is that awful noise?”
Spike looked grim. “I’m guessin’ the Thesa just discovered the entertainment they were plannin’on to go with their meal cancelled her appearance.”
“We better pick up the pace before they seal the tunnels.”
*****
The knife embedded in the wood, a millimeter from his thumb. He tried to snatch his hand away but the chains held him tightly in place. Shaking he looked up at his captors and tried to explain again.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t read it and that will continue to be true, even if you cut off my entire hand.”
He stared at the strange beings that had removed him by force from his office. They’d hauled him a great distance, chained him up and then thrown an ancient text at him and ordered a translation. “I’m an academician, not a professional linguist or a translator. This is hardly my area of expertise.”
The leader of the group snarled. “You were able to translate the first portion.”
The man cringed. “Yes, the first half of the text was ancient Latin and I do have some familiarity. However, the second half of the book, while written by the same hand uses a language that I’ve never seen before.”
Warming to his subject despite his situation, the elderly man lectured. “The unknown language is symbolic. It appears to be some sort of derivative of ancient Egyptian; it resembles writings from the early Lower Kingdom.” He realized he was rambling and finished quickly. “However it will be quite impossible to decipher without a key.”
The demon’s voice became persuasive. “Professor Metterle, if I could find a key, would you be able to translate the text?”
The old man shrugged. “With a key it would be simple; anyone could translate it, even a child.” Meeting the demon’s eyes, he added, “If I do it, will you then release me?”
“I’ll release you. Now, where might I locate a key?”
“Where did you obtain the book? It’s possible that the previous owners would have the key.”
The Gashi Chieftain’s eyes gleamed. “But of course, I need to look to the source. How stupid of me.”
He spoke to his son. “Get me a wizard.” Mindful of the impending treaty, he added. “Make it someone unimportant.”
Turning back to the elderly man, he smiled. “Good news professor. I shall be releasing you much sooner than expected.” He turned to the guard. “Kill him.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
These characters belong solely to Joss Whedon and
ME. Not mine.
ME. Not mine.