Buffy was trying to stay calm. But ironically, after she had faked that panic attack to get her wrists untied, she found herself suffering from an authentic one, which circumvented step two of her plan. Get the hell out of there.
Everything was too bright, too harsh, too loud. The drug ran through her veins and made her crazy, weak, afraid. She could feel everything, see everything, hear everything, even the beating of her own heart. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute. Her mind was floating.
Angelus toyed with her a bit more, using words and fists in attempts to get her to entertain him. She resisted, kept the symptoms of her addled state deep inside of her. She took the pain he dealt her and didn’t cry, didn’t scream. Let his hands wander her body and didn’t show her revulsion.
In, out, in, out. She concentrated on her breathing, concentrated on the feeling of the chair under her body, the air on her skin. She wanted to stay grounded. Wanted to feel normal. She ignored people talking to her, ignored Darla kissing Angelus goodbye, ignored her captor softly stroking her hair and skin.
Buffy closed her eyes. She listened.
“Did she pass out?” Forrest asked a few minutes later.
“Probably, yeah. She’s so cute when she’s sleeping,” Angelus replied with a chuckle. “And you’re next if you don’t start talking.” Buffy felt him move away from her.
Fred whimpered. “Angel, I swear—“
Buffy heard the smacking sound of flesh on flesh. “You swear what?”
“I was going to tell you, okay? I was, I promise.”
“But, you didn’t.”
“I was GOING to,” she started to cry. “I told you about Lorne. I tried to find the disks. I told you about Buffy and Gunn the day I found out. I got rid of Mr. Giles, didn’t I? I did everything you asked me to do.”
“Except tell me you and the bleached wonder were working with LAPD. That’s a pretty big thing to leave out.”
“I was waiting for—“
“Shut up, Fred. Denying everything is just going to make it worse for your pretty little self.”
A sniffle. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I got that. I’m curious about the why of it all, Fred. Why come to me in the first place? Can’t believe I fell for your sob story about hating Spike after your sad, torrid little love affair.”
“That was true! I just…”
“Had a change of heart?”
“I don’t know!”
“You know, Fred. You were playing me.”
“I wasn’t—“
Another slap that Buffy could almost feel on her own cheek.
That laugh, that cruel, harsh laugh, echoed in Buffy’s ears and invaded her soul as she struggled to appear asleep, struggled against the urge to shriek and cry. “You’re so adorable when you’re scared, Fred. All panting and sweating. Heaving breasts. Too bad you didn’t start working for me right away. We could have avoided all of this.” All Buffy heard for a minute was the sound of Angelus’s heavy breathing. Finally, “Forrest, put her back upstairs. I need a drink.”
A few minutes later, Buffy opened her eyes to an empty room, mind swimming with her newly acquired information. She shuddered and swallowed her tears, then started to wiggle her ankles, slipping them out of their binds. A voice from behind her made her freeze.
“Sunshine, are you okay?” Drusilla asked as she crept into sight.
“I…I…” Buffy tried to think of an excuse for her current very suspicious position, then wondered if there was a chance she could knock the other woman unconscious before she screamed. Probably not.
“You’re escaping. Smart little girl,” She nodded. “I want to be helpful.”
Buffy gaped at her and froze. “You want to what now?”
“To help. I’ve been wrong for far too long.” Drusilla’s face was open and pleading.
“Wrong?” Buffy spat, unable to contain her anger. “You mean like telling your husband about Spike’s plan and getting him shot? That kind of wrong?”
“I didn’t do that! I would never tell. He lies. He lies and I let him lie but no more.”
“Okay…” the blonde frowned. “So…you’re…what?”
“I’m following my knight into the sunshine. Although, he’s not really my knight anymore, is he? He’s yours. He wants to take you off into the sunset--”
“Drusilla, you’re making the kind of sense that doesn’t. But if you really want to help me, make some sort of distraction away from the front door.”
The woman nodded and glided off.
Buffy could hardly believe it. She almost sat herself back in her chair, tied herself back up, sure this was some sort of sick new torture device. Or a trap. It had to be a trap.
But when she heard Drusilla screaming from upstairs, crying for Angelus, she jumped into action, peeking around the corner to find the front entryway empty, and just like that, she was out the front door and running on unsteady legs, still feeling the effects of that powerful drug
It was too easy. It was just wrong, how easy it was to escape.
Buffy turned her head to glance over her shoulder, checking for pursuers, and ran smack into a wall of solid muscle.
She had expected it, was sure her luck had run out, Drusilla had lied to her, and it was one of Angelus’s goons here to take her back to that hellhole.
But she steadied herself and looked up into Gunn’s face.
“Buffy, are you okay?” He asked, gingerly touching a bruise on her face.
“Call for backup, Angelus, all of them, they’re in the house,” she gasped out.
He grabbed her and pulled her behind a car, taking out his phone and quickly calling headquarters.
“How did you get here?” She asked, swaying. “How…how…oh wow. I’m so completely fucked up.” She started to laugh.
“Buffy, what’s wrong?”
His image began to swirl and shift in front of her eyes as she explained what Angelus had done. “And Fred!” she blurted out. “Fred’s in there, Fred turned us in to him.”
“What?”
“I…oh, I…”
“Buffy, talk to me. What about Fred? Buffy?”
He started to sound so far away, he shook her, trying to bring her back. But out in the bright warm sunshine, almost to safety, she didn’t want to fight anymore, and let the drug pull her deeper into its thrall, let the pain encompass her, let all the horror in. Gunn kept questioning her, and as she looked past him, she saw Spike coming towards them. “Oh, wow. I’m hallucinating. Cool…” she smiled as she sat heavily down on the ground.
“Hallucinating what? Talk to me! What’s going on?”
“I wanted…and he’s here…” The hallucination knelt in front of her. She said softly, “You aren’t real.”
But his arms around her, pulling her close, his breath on her cheek, his hands in her hair, felt so real.
“I’m here, Buffy,” the hallucination whispered.
She sighed and let herself believe it, sinking into his arms as the faint sound of sirens lulled her into sleep.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you all so so much for your kind words on this story. You have no idea how wonderful it is (and how motivating!) to hear how addicted people are, and how much they enjoy it. So thank you for reading, and reviewing, and enjoy the update!