Chapter 20: The Choice
“Uh….that was fast.”
“Agent Finn left a few of us behind in case you ever needed us.”
“Uh…ok.” Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but a.) be creeped out by the fact that her ex was keeping tabs on her and b.) be pissed that now she knew he knew she’d died and come back and hadn’t so much as heard a word from him. “Doesn’t explain how fast you got here. I didn’t call him even an hour ago.”
“Agent Finn keeps you at the top of his priority list…even if…uh…Ass Face is involved.” Buffy heard a snicker from Xander in the kitchen.
“Well, be sure to thank Agent Finn for me,” Buffy started, “but tell him he doesn’t need to look after me anymore.”
“I’ll relay that message, Miss Summers.” He held up a kit. “Where’s Hostile 17?”
“Um, Spike is in the basement. I’ll lead the way.” Agent Cooper stepped inside, and Buffy, still a bit dazed by the suddenness, closed the door after him and lead him into the kitchen, avoiding Xander’s gaze at the same time.
As she reached the basement door, Buffy blocked it, turning to face the agent.
“Just to be on the safe side,” she warned, “if you do anything to make him worse, I’m going to send you back to your boss with a missing limb or two. You got that?”
“I’m only here to examine the chip, Miss Summers,” he said with a nod. “Besides, Agent Finn gave the same instructions. Hostile 17 is not to be harmed in anyway unless necessary.”
“Unless necessary? What does that mean, exactly?” The agent didn’t budge. Spike screamed from the basement.
“We should hurry,” he urged. “Please let me through.” Buffy caved and moved out of the way, letting the agent through. But, she followed quickly after him, and Xander was right behind her.
***
After a few scans with some durable-looking wand that could pass for a metal detector, Agent Cooper finished his assessment, and after he stepped out of earshot to make a phone call, he returned to deliver the news.
Buffy was sitting on the cot next to Spike, who was leaning against the wall, his gaze looking distant. Xander stood silently in the corner, wondering what was going on.
“I’ve talked to Agent Finn, and he told me that whatever you decide to do about Hostile 17, I should follow those orders.”
“Orders? You mean, I’m in charge of what happens to him?”
“Yes,” Agent Cooper said with a firm nod. Buffy glanced at Spike, who seemed to be in another place entirely, and then she looked back at the stranger.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Something must have happened to offset the function of the chip. Now, I can either repair it, or I can remove it completely.” Buffy looked at Spike, who didn’t seem to have heard.
“Remove it? Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Xander spoke up. “Why don’t we line our friends up right now, yank that sucker out, and let him have a taste.”
“Xander, shut up.”
“You aren’t seriously considering taking out the chip?” Buffy looked at Agent Cooper, at Spike, and then back at Xander.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” Xander’s jaw dropped.
“Maybe screwing vampires makes you foggy in the head, because I clearly remember him biting anyone he cared to before he got that chip put in his brain.”
“It’s different now.”
“What? Because you’re fucking him?”
“Shut up, Xander!” Buffy yelled. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“He’s right, pet,” Spike suddenly spoke up. He even sounded distant.
“No he isn’t,” Buffy demanded.
“We don’t know what’d happen if…”
“See, even a vampire has more sense than you, Buffy.” Buffy clenched her fists at her sides.
“Get out.”
“No. I’m not letting you let them take it out.”
“You don’t have any say here, Xander,” Buffy warned.
“I do have a say. I have a say as to whether or not my friend keeps all her blood inside of her body and out of the mouth of a bloodsucking fiend.” Buffy started toward Xander, but Spike reached out, taking her hand and gently tugging her back down to the cot.
“Take it out,” she said up to Agent Cooper without missing a beat.
“Don’t listen to her,” Xander urged. “She’s blind by what she thinks is love.”
“My orders are to follow Miss Summers’ orders over Hostile 17.”
“It’s alright, luv,” Spike murmured. “It might be better off…”
“No. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. You have a soul, Spike. That’s going to keep you from hurting anybody.”
“He has awhat now?” Xander’s jaw had dropped a little more. Buffy let out a hot breath.
“That’s where he went. He went to Africa and got his soul back.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Spike pointed out. “He doesn’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t,” Xander replied. “Why did he…”
“That’s personal,” Buffy explained. “You wouldn’t understand, like Spike said.” Xander shook his head.
“Alright. So he has a soul. How do you know that’ll keep him from killing? Humans have souls, but that doesn’t stop them from murdering each other. He’s not a human. He’s a demon.” Spike let out a loud groan, gripping his head again, shuddering and grinding his teeth to stop from screaming. Shaking her head, Buffy stood up.
“That thing’s killing him, and I don’t want to risk this happening again when there isn’t anyone around to help.” She looked right into Agent Cooper’s eyes and gave him a nod. “Take it out.”
“Yes, Miss Summers.” Buffy caught his arm as he started to open up his case of instruments. “Is there something else?”
“Yeah. If anything happens to him…” Her tone was warning enough. He held up a hand.
“Understood, Miss Summers. This will only take a few minutes. You’re free to stay.” Buffy nodded but looked at Xander.
“You get out.”
“Buff…”
“I understand you want to protect me as a friend, but all you’re doing is pissing me off. So leave. I’m not ready to talk to you right now.” Opening his mouth to speak again, but deciding against it, Xander just gave her an understanding nod and headed up the stairs, leaving against his strong desire to stay and observe just in case.
***
A few hours later, Spike woke with a hell of a headache. But, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was her face looking down at him. Her eyes were full of concern, but she showed no trace of fear at all. That made him happy, because it meant that the commando hadn’t “accidentally” killed him on behalf of Captain Cardboard, and it also meant that she wasn’t worried that he might spring up and kill someone without a moment’s notice.
When he thought about his own thirst, his stomach rumbled, but the only taste he desire was that of whatever blood might come from Buffy’s fridge, whether it be cow’s blood or a sodding pigeon, it was all the same to him. The thought of human blood that had once made a fire course through his veins and his mouth water, now made his stomach twist into knots and the guilt return.
He smelled warm blood almost as soon as he was fully conscious, and he slowly sat up, his hand moving to the back of his head.
“You heal fast,” she remarked, “but I thought a scalpel poking around in your brain might take longer to heal. When he was done, all he had to do was put some gauze and a bandage back there.” Spike could feel the scratchy material on the back of his head. “Here. Warmed this up for you.”
“What is it?”
“Cow this time. Ran out of pig.”
“I’ll take it,” he muttered, as she placed the warm mug in his hands. He drank it down in seconds and then placed the mug down on the floor. “You think this was a good idea, luv?” He motioned toward his head.
“Well, let’s see.” She moved closer to him, pulling her hair away from his neck and running her fingers along her pulse point. “Do you want to bite me?”
“Would be lying if I said no,” he managed to joke. “But I don’t want to eat you, if that’s what you’re asking. At least…not in that way.”
“Well, see? You made it through step one. Not eating the girlfriend. Let’s see how you do with your girlfriend’s sister. She’ll be home soon.”
“You sure you want to do that? What if…”
“Spike, you might have been a vampire for a long time, but you’ve been a chipped vampire for what? Two years? All you’ve had is animal blood. Now you have a soul.”
“It doesn’t make me hungry…thinking about human blood. Doesn’t get me going the way it used to.”
“That’s the soul talking, sweetie.” She paused, furrowing her brows and looking at him, as his own eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“You called me sweetie.”
“Yeah, the pet names don’t work so much when I say them, do they?” She reached out, taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together. “You’re not gonna hurt me. You’re not gonna hurt anybody I care about.”
“Still, to be on the safe side, I think it might be best if you don’t leave me alone with anyone for a few days.”
“I can do that,” she assured him with a nod. “But I really don’t think…”
“Well, even if I’m not tempted to feed, I might be tempted to hit the whelp.” He motioned toward the door Xander had existed a few hours prior. “And I might hit him a little too hard, if you know what I mean.”
“Ah. Well, you’d be second in line. He needs to grow up.”
“He does care about you, pet.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t care that I love you. Well, he cares in the bad way. He hates it. I can’t help the way I feel, and he just needs to accept it and move on.” She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a content little sigh. “I’m happy, and I know exactly what I want.”
***
“Can you tell me what year it is, Ms. Mullens?” Quentin asked, as he sat across from Dana in a large, bright room. She sat with shackles around her wrists and ankles. He was only answered by a few nonsense words. She wouldn’t look him in the eye. “You’ve been having nightmares, haven’t you? Vivid dreams? About demons. Bloodsuckers. Vampires.” Dana winced, shrinking back in her chair.
“Yellow eyes,” she murmured.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Darkness. Dead.”
“Yes, Dana. Vampires. The undead.”
“Evil. Wr…wrong.” Her fingers flexed, as if she was trying to claw at something. Judging by the faded scars on her arms, she was trying to hurt herself.
“Dana, do you know why you’re in prison?” She flinched away again. “You were tried and convicted of murder and sent to a women’s prison. Do you remember that?” Dana didn’t answer. She just fixed her gaze to a spot on the table, and she didn’t look up. “You went into a sort of catatonia for a while, but last May, you came out of it. Do you remember that?”
“Demons.”
“Yes. That’s when the dreams started, yes?” She was shaking now. “Dana. You were called upon. You were Chosen. These dreams can only be seen by a slayer. That’s what you are, Dana.” Dana shrunk back a little more, jerking at her wrist shackles. “We would like to try another experiment that may make you more focused. More able to be rehabilitated, trained, molded into a champion of the people.” Anything would be better than having to exterminate a slayer. She was called on for a reason, and Travers knew that even he didn’t have the power to say who got called and when.
“Bad. Killer.”
“Yes, Dana. What you did was wrong, but you’re not the same woman you were when you committed those murders.”
“Guards...”
“Yes. You did that after you were called, but you had no idea of your strength. We can train you.”
“Mr. Travers, could I speak with you please?” A male voice on the intercom grated at Travers’ nerves. “Well, you think about that, Dana, and I’ll go speak with your doctor.” Quentin stepped out of the room, and Dana looked around, seeing nobody near, but knowing there were eyes on her. But, she was overtaken by a primal force, a fear of being caged like an animal. Her body began to shake again, and she began to pull desperately at her shackles, feeling pain coursing through her as the metal dug into her skin.
She began to scream. It was a wild, animalistic sound, and when she heard the clanging of steel doors, she felt helpless. She heard the marching of expensive boots against the bright, blinding white linoleum, and she closed her eyes, her head pounding.
“Kill. Evil. Bad. No. Hurt…” She began to whimper, her head down on the table. The guards came in, armed and ready for any stunt she might pull.
“We’re taking you back to your cell now,” the younger one said warily. He began to undo her chains from the table restraints, trying to keep in mind that she was still restrained without the help of the table. “Get her feet, will you?”
The other guard did as his co-worker asked, and the moment Dana was free of the table, they began to march her toward the doors.
“Dust to dust,” she muttered.
“Quiet,” the older guard snapped. She began to mutter incoherently, and he couldn’t help but lean forward to try and understand her better. But, just as he did that, her arms came up, trapping him between her and the steel links of her shackle chains. He groaned in pain, as she squeezed the chain around his neck.
“Oi! Let him go!” the young guard yelled, cocking his gun and pointing it right at him. She turned slowly, staring him right in the face, her eyes wild, almost black, as she listened to the strangled breaths of her prey.
“Evil…”
“No! No…we’re just doing our jobs, miss,” the guard reasoned. But she closed her eyes, squeezing harder until she heard the neck snap under the pressure. The gun fired, but obviously the young guard was a bad shot, because without opening her eyes, the wild Slayer lunged at him, pushing him down onto the floor, taking control of his gun and emptying a shot into his belly. He screamed, as he tried to struggle for the gun. Alarms began to blare somewhere close. The coppery scented blood invaded her nostrils, and she realized that this must be what vampires smell right before they finish off their prey.
She saw something shiny glinting in his blood soaked hand, and she reached for it. It was a round keychain, her chance for freedom. Grabbing the keys and the gun, she made a run for it, letting her senses take over, somehow not fearing the alternative to an escape.
***
Buffy shot up in bed, gasping for breath as she focused on the clock. Three-thirty. She rubbed her temples, her head pounding from the dream. Something was wrong. This was the first time in so long that her dream had been so vivid that she could experience nearly every sensation in the dream. Whoever she was in the dream, she was wild. She was using her senses to guide her. She’d been the wild creature, and the feeling was more disturbing than she could have imagined.
Looking over at Spike, who seemed to be completely worn out from the procedure hours earlier, she decided not to wake him just yet. Instead, she pulled herself out of bed and hurried down into the living room, stumbling toward the inn table.
She immediately reached for the phone and for the pad of paper next to it. She dialed Giles’ number to his flat in London, hoping he’d be home. After two rings, she was greeted by a calm “Hello?”
“Giles,” she gasped, “it’s me.”
“Buffy?” he asked, alarmed, his mind immediately going to Spike, wondering if the animal had gone too far with her this time. “What’s happened?”
“I had…I had a dream. A Slayer dream.” There was a pause, a clearing of a throat, and she heard him fumbling for something, probably a pad of paper.
“Listen to me carefully, Buffy. I need you to describe that dream to me in as much detail as you can, alright? I’ll start researching as soon as I’ve visited with Willow.”
“I think you might wanna start now. Something’s wrong. And I think it’s closer to you than it is to me.”
***
Thirty minutes later, Buffy was strumming her fingers impatiently against the couch cushion, waiting for Giles to return to the phone. He’d put her on hold to call Quentin Travers, one of Buffy’s least favorite people in the world. Travers was trying to do his job, yes, but it didn’t help his likability factor any when he put her and her friends lives in danger.
The line clicked, and she heard Giles voice, this time filled with a little more anxiety.
“I’ve just spoke with Mr. Travers. He was quite helpful.”
“Him? Helpful? Giles, this must be bad.”
“I’m afraid so,” he muttered. “It seems there has been another Slayer called into action.”
“Oh,” Buffy said slowly. “And…”
“She’s the woman in your dream. She escaped the Council’s headquarters today. She was an inmate, charged with murder and serving multiple life sentences. She was there when you died, Buffy. She’s out of control, and I’m afraid she’s escaped...” Buffy felt her stomach twist into knots.
“What should I do?”
“I can’t imagine she’ll be stable enough to leave the country right now, Buffy. The Council’s got some very skilled people in its employ, and they’re out searching for her right now. Try not to worry, Buffy. I’m going to help them. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve heard anything.”
“Thanks. And…and, Giles? Be careful.”
“Yes. I will. Take care.” Buffy hung up, and she rested her head in her hands. She was so focused on thinking about that dream that she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her. She jumped at the feel of his cool hand on her shoulders.
“Oh!”
“What happened?” Buffy moved over on the couch for him to sit down next to her.
“I guess another slayer was called when I died. Problem is that she was in prison for murder. And she’s escaped.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I had a dream. I called Giles and he contacted the Council. I guess they were in control of her, and she escaped from them today.”
“What should we do?”
“Giles doesn’t think she’ll leave the country, so he’s not too worried about what we do. I feel like I should do something.”
“Right now, sounds like they don’t need you. Don’t worry, pet. I’m sure they’ll take care of it.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” She wasn’t convinced, but it wasn’t like she could just take off for London without much money to her name, and with Dawn to look after.
“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” He rubbed the back of his head, where the bandage was starting to bother him.
“How’s your head?”
“Much better without that sodding thing in there.” Buffy nodded slowly, and she yawned. “It’ll be even better after a few more hours of sleep.”
“Ok. You’re right. Sleep first…think later.” They stood up, and Spike took her hand, leading her back up to her bedroom, as she tried to push the new piece of information to the back of her mind, at least until morning when she could think about it more clearly.
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You guys are so awesome! Please keep the feedback coming! I love reading what you all think. I hope to be able to get many more chapters posted for this story. I'm having a blast with it!