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Winner of Best AU at the Wicked Awards!
Chapter Forty

Willow touched down without even a stumble. She glanced around and let out a sigh of relief. Two yards to the left and she would have landed in a large overflowing dumpster. Thanks to Maurice’s expertise with coordinates she’d arrived exactly where she’d wanted to: the back yard of the coffee shop they’d chosen for the rendezvous with the reporter.

Luckily no one had seen her arrival, so she strode quickly round to the front. Pushing the door open, she smiled as the smell of coffee and warm croissants wafted towards her.

“Thank God for Starbucks.”

She ordered a coffee with a ridiculously long name, resisted a pastry as she was still feeling full of omelette, and took a seat at a table that afforded a good view of the door. A Google search had provided a photograph of the reporter they had selected to be the one to get the exclusive.

Henry Garthorpe was a respected journalist for The Times. He’d covered wars, political intrigues and had exposed a well known TV star as a paedophile. If he wrote an article they knew it would be taken seriously.

Right on time, a tall imposing figure walked into the café. He wore beige pants with a navy blazer, and his sandy coloured hair was cropped short. Willow smiled as she watched him scan the clientele, trying to guess who the person he’d agreed to meet was.

“Mr. Garthorpe.” She decided to put him out of his misery. “Over here.”

His eyes narrowed as he made his way towards her, sizing up the woman who’d informed him that she had a story that would blow the lid of a multinational organisation.

“Willow Rosenberg?”

She nodded and shook the hand he offered as he sat down opposite her.

“You don’t look much like a witch.”

“Someone’s done their homework.” Willow smiled. “Yet you still came.”

“You’re part of the Watcher’s Council and so I figured you were legit.”

Willow sat up straighter. “You know about the Council?”

“I wouldn’t be much of an investigative journalist if I didn’t know of them, would I?”

“I guess not.”

“So,” Henry leaned back in his chair, “you said you had things to show me…”

“That’s right. I’ll take you there.”

“It’s alright. I’ll drive. My car’s just outside.”

“We don’t need to drive.” Willow stood up.

Henry rose from his chair and followed her out of the coffee shop. He baulked when she turned down the alley leading to the back yard.

“Ms. Rosenberg? Where are you taking me? I find it hard to believe that your secrets are down there.”

“Call me Willow, and you’re right. They’re not here. You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that it’s a short cut.” She giggled as she continued down the alley. “If you don’t want the exclusive, then I’m sure we can soon find another reporter who does.”

She wasn’t surprised when he began to follow her again. Nor was she surprised when he scowled as she halted close to the dumpster.

“Is this some kind of joke?” He scowled at her. “You’re wasting my time. There’s nothing here.”

Willow grasped his arm as he turned to go. “I told you it was a short cut, and it is. Give me your hands.”

With a derisive snort, Henry held his hands out palms up. “Going to tell my fortune, are you?”

Cupping his hands with hers, Willow grinned. “You’re going on an unusual journey.”

Before he could answer, she held them tightly, and teleported back to the safehouse. Henry staggered as his feet touched the tiles on the kitchen floor.

“Christ!” He made the word have at least three syllables. His hand flew to his mouth as he gagged.

“Oh, no you don’t, mister!” Willow pushed him away. “Not on this top!”

Managing to stay on his feet by holding onto the table, Henry fought the nausea rising inside and took a deep breath.

“What the hell was that?”

Willow spread her hands wide. “Take a look around. I told you it was a shortcut.”

Henry’s eyes grew comically round as he realised he was no longer at the back of Starbucks but in a farmhouse style kitchen.

“But…how?”

Willow decided she was enjoying this immensely. “It’s magic.” She pulled out a chair. “Take a seat – you’re going to need one.”

“A nice cup of sweet tea will put you right, my dear,” said Dora, walking into the room. “It did me the world of good when she teleported me.”

With a shake of his head, Henry tried to regain his composure and make sense of what had happened. Fumbling in his pockets, he pulled out his Dictaphone, a notepad and a pen, and put them on the table as he sat down gratefully in the chair Willow indicated.

Henry sipped cautiously at the steaming hot tea and glanced up when Buffy entered, closely followed by Spike. Tea sprayed all over the kitchen table as he spluttered when he saw what Spike was. The journalist leapt to his feet, sending the chair flying.

“You stole a tracker?” Henry glared at Willow. “This is your world exclusive?”

“Sit down.”

Buffy’s voice brooked no argument, and she took Spike’s thumb-less left hand in hers, unsure whether it was to prevent Spike from bolting or from attacking. Dora helpfully righted Henry’s chair and he sat on it obediently.

“What’s going on here?” Henry said, meeting Buffy’s stare.

She nodded to his Dictaphone. “I hope you have lots of tapes for that – you’re going to need it.”

Buffy had to smile when Spike held the chair for her to sit on before taking his place beside her.

“But that is a tracker.”

“Technically, mate, my last job was as a hunter.” Spike winked his immobile blind eye at the startled reporter.

“It can speak? How is that possible?”

“It,” Buffy’s voice was dangerously low, “is a he, and all vampires are capable of speech until the Initiative gets hold of them.”

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Willow said quickly.

“Er…yes. That sounds as good a place as any to start.” Henry picked up the small tape recorder and pressed the record button. He set it in the centre of the table and said his name and date, pressing pause when he came to add the place. “So where are we?”

“You don’t need to know that for now,” said Buffy.

Henry shrugged. “Fair enough. Can I start with your names? Ms. Rosenberg, I already know, obviously.” He glanced at her and Willow smiled. “So?”

“I’m Buffy Summers, retired vampire slayer.” She smiled sweetly at Henry’s startled expression, and leaned closer to Spike.

“Spike. William the Bloody. William Pratt, take your pick,” Spike said, adding, “Hey! What’s so funny?” When Buffy and Willow snorted with laughter.

Buffy managed to control her giggles enough to speak. “Sorry, Spike, but really? Pratt? Really?”

“Bugger off,” Spike said without heat, but shifted away from her. “Nothing wrong with my name, Buffy.”

The reporter stared at the couple with disbelief. The banter sounded so normal as they continued to tease each other about their given names. Spike glanced at him and Henry hurriedly looked away. How could a vampire appear so human? As a journalist he’d been privy to the intended use of vampires to hunt down missing people and other demons before it became public knowledge. He’d been shown footage of vampires naked and snarling, attacking anything in sight. How could he reconcile that with the…person…before him? Could a vampire have a sense of humour? Weren’t they just evil demons hell bent on killing humans? Henry’s gut turned over, and the hair on the nape of his neck bristled as he got the feeling that this really was a story of a lifetime.

Dora slipped out of the kitchen as Spike began to talk about his capture. She didn’t want to hear the details of that. Buffy had already recounted how Spike had actually aided her in preventing an apocalypse, before Spike told of his treatment at the facility.

Buffy held his hand throughout, worried that he would find it all too much to bear, but his voice remained calm as he spoke. Henry said little, just asked for clarification if he didn’t understand something, or to prompt when Spike paused. He’d paled a little when he’d asked what had happened to Spike’s thumbs.

“I tried to kill a trainer. Last time I resisted though.” Spike grinned at the reporter’s reaction, before sobering, “Look, vampire’s aren’t cute and fuzzy bunnies, but if someone had systematically tortured you, stuck something in your head that made them able to put you on the ground with pain, then you’d likely resist too, right?”

“Tell me about your eyes,” Henry said.

She squeezed her eyes shut when he told of the day his eyes were removed so the Initiative could implant their optical gadgets in the sockets. Silently, she swore Maggie Walsh would die as the image of Spike screaming in the video footage the woman had shown her came into her mind.

Spike’s voice faltered a few times as he described what had happened and how he’d worked as a tracker for years. By the time that he’d brought the reporter to when Buffy saved him from the retirement sheds, it was clear that the vampire needed a break.

Henry waited until Spike had left the room before speaking. “The abuse of vampires, while it does now seem abhorrent, I’m not sure that the general public will care. Let’s face it, vampires kill humans, and the ones in the program not only can’t hurt humans but actually do help.”

Buffy scowled and opened her mouth, but Willow managed to talk first.

“We were afraid of that. However, what Spike has told you is only the beginning. Several years after Spike was technically sold to Buffy, the Initiative stole him back. Leaving Buffy and her sons to think that Spike had dusted himself, after the sight he’d been given failed.”

Taking a calming deep breath, Buffy took up the story. “They got Spike, but this time he wouldn’t submit, no matter what they did to him. Until one act showed them for the monsters they truly are.” She got up and walked to the open door and called out, “Craig, honey, will you come down now?”

“Okay, Mom.”

Buffy returned to her seat, and Henry watched the door for the arrival of Buffy’s eldest son.

Henry looked up as a tall, attractive young man strode in. Craig glanced as his mother who smiled at him and patted the chair vacated by Spike. Before he sat down, Craig pulled the sweater he was wearing over his head, revealing a black wife-beater shirt. Henry couldn’t help but notice the terrible scars on Craig’s right arm.

“Tell him what happened, sweetie,” prompted Willow.

With discomfort, Craig told of the fateful day when he’d been attacked and his life changed forever.

“How do you know it was the Initiative,” said Henry. “It could have been anyone.”

“Both Cameron and Spike have seen the footage of the attack,” said Buffy.

“Where is your other son?”

“Here.” They all turned towards the door when they heard Cam’s voice.

Leaning heavily on the walking sticks he crossed the few yards to the table. Craig leapt up and pulled out a chair for him, and steadied his brother as he sank down onto it. Buffy’s eyes filled with tears to see how Craig helped his younger brother.

“You’ve seen the pods that the trackers are stored in?” said Cameron.

Henry nodded. Film of the pods arriving in London had been all over the news that day.

“So you know that the trackers are paralysed when they’re in them?”

Again Henry nodded and met Cam’s eyes which looked much older than his nineteen years.

“When a human is put in there and the clamp activated, we don’t recover quite so well”

“You mean…”

“Yes. I discovered that Spike was still alive by hacking into their computer system, and the Initiative snatched me. They put me in a pod, and one of the trainers thought it would be fun to activate the spinal clamp. I went in there healthy and fit, and when they opened it, I was quadriplegic.”

“Oh my God!” Henry snapped off the Dictaphone and stood up, pacing around the kitchen. “This is incredible.”

“It’s true,” Buffy said.

Henry stopped and looked over at her. “I believe you.” He switched his gaze to Cam. “You’re obviously not quadriplegic now. What happened?”

“Nothing. Just getting a lot of pain and when it passes I seem a little better.” They’d all decided that it was probably best not to mention the healing qualities of vampire blood; otherwise public sympathy might not be quite so strong.

“Can’t you help him?” Henry glanced at Willow.

Willow shook her head. “Unfortunately, the laws of magic don’t allow us to heal people. It prevents us from misusing it, I guess. Because many would soon be corrupted if it was possible to make the crippled walk or the blind see.”

“People break laws all the time,” Henry said, resuming his pacing.

“The laws of magic aren’t rules. The magic itself governs them. No matter what spell I cast, it wouldn’t work.” She smiled sadly at Buffy’s sons. “I wish that I could heal them, but I can’t.”

“Oh, right,” Henry said, sounding deflated. He sat back at the table and turned the tape on again.

“So far we only have your side of the story. We need more than that,” Henry said. “It needs to be balanced and I need proof. Not just hearsay.”

“Shall I bring Mark and Riley up now?” asked Craig.

“Yes,” Buffy said, nodding, “but make sure Spike’s with you, just in case.”

“In case of what?” Henry said, as Craig strode quickly out of the room. He didn’t miss the envious look on Cam’s face at the ease of his brother’s movement.

“Uh…we have a couple of men who worked in the Initiative here, and one is a bit reluctant to talk to you, despite us saving his life by getting him out.”

A short time later, two men entered the kitchen followed by Craig and Spike. One wore only a pair of baggy scrubs pants and kept his head down as he limped to take a seat next to Willow. The other walked tall and stared boldly at the reporter as he sat down at the head of the table. Craig resumed his old seat and Spike leaned against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest. His pose appeared casual but he remained tense for if Mark decided to try to make a dash for it.

“My name’s Riley Finn, and I worked in the Initiative as a head of the capture squads, then I became a handler when Mark,” he nodded to the second man, “er…was retired.”

Henry glanced at Mark as the man gave a low whimper. “Is he okay?”

Mark raised his head and met Henry’s eyes. The reporter had to steel himself not to flinch at the despair in Mark’s eyes. “I’ll never be okay again.” The man’s voice was low, and Henry could tell from the others’ body language that whatever had befallen Mark was serious.

“Tell me about it,” Henry said.

Mark’s eyes flew wide, and he glanced fearfully over his shoulder at what Henry had to remind himself was still a vampire.

“Best to get it over with.” Spike said levelly. “I can take you back then.”

Mark began to talk, hesitantly at first and then gathering momentum, pausing only when Henry had to change the tape. He told of how he’d been Maggie Walsh’s right hand man. That it was he who had activated the spinal clamp on Cameron. It was hard to tell whose growl was louder at that declaration – Spike’s or Cam’s. He went on to describe Maggie’s fury at the failure of her plan to capture Buffy and how he had treated Spike when he’d been his handler.

“They said they’d saved your life,” Henry said. “How was that exactly?”

The man’s face lost all colour, and he dropped his gaze to the hands he had resting on the table.

“Show him.” It was the first time that Spike’s voice held malice.

Mark shook his head.

“Stand up and show what they did to you, or I swear I will rip off those fucking pants myself.”

“Spike…” Buffy’s voice was soft but firm.

Shakily, Mark rose from his chair and walked around to the side of the table where Henry was sitting. As he began to untie the drawstring, Henry spluttered.

“What are you doing?” He swivelled round to the others. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes.” It was Mark who spoke. “I’ve worked for Maggie Walsh for almost twenty years. The first time I let her down, she does this to me.”

He let the pants pool around his feet. Willow and Buffy averted their eyes, for Mark’s sake more than their own. Henry took a moment for his brain to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

“Wh…? You were wounded?” Even as Henry spoke he knew what Mark’s answer would be.

“No. It was deliberate.” He bent down and tugged the pants back up.

“You were limping. Have these people hurt you? I take it they meant you when they said one was reluctant.”

“No they haven’t hurt me.” Mark moved back to his seat. “But I got to thinking and they’re right. Maggie Walsh is out of control and has to be stopped.”

“But your limp?” persisted Henry.

Mark glanced round in panic. “I-I can’t tell him, okay? I just can’t.”

Spike stepped towards him as he began to hyperventilate. Henry tensed, afraid of what the vampire might do. As it was, the vampire surprised him yet again.

“Come on. Let’s get you downstairs, yeah?”

Nodding gratefully, Mark got up and slipped out of the kitchen with Spike following him.

“So what happened?” Henry looked at the others in turn.

Willow brought out a camera, set it to the play video section of the menu and handed it to Henry.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Henry whispered as he saw the battered figure of Mark on the floor of the cell with the…his eyes widened and he suddenly had trouble breathing. “That’s a trick. It’s not possible.” He glared at Willow. “You’re a witch. You made this look like that.”

“Take a deep breath, Henry. I wouldn’t need magic to do that. I’m a whiz with Photoshop, but rest assured that is authentic. Mark was in that cell for quite some time. As you can see, Lilah is quite a …er…sexual being.”

“No!” Henry tossed the camera on the table. “Why are you doing this? You’ve already given me enough to write an exposé. Why take it into the realms of fantasy?”

“It’s not fantasy,” Buffy said. “We’ve got the top that matches those legs upstairs. Another victim of Maggie Walsh’s sick mind.”

“Now you really are beginning to piss me o—”

“It’s true.” Cam’s voice stopped Henry mid flow. “They threatened to make me like that too. His name is Gunn; he used to work for Wolfram & Hart in LA.”

Henry’s hand sneaked out to snag the camera again. He stared at it for a time, playing the short clip twice before he raised his head. “Show me.”

“Boys stay here,” Buffy said, as she, Willow and Henry got to their feet.

Neither of her sons protested. They were more than happy not to have to go to see Gunn. Dora was the best at keeping the increasingly agitated man calm. Whatever meds Maggie pumped into him were obviously wearing off.

Henry glanced around as he was led up the stairs. As they reached the landing, a man who introduced himself as Maurice met them and warned of the fragile state of Gunn’s mind.

“We need to get him to a hospital, Buffy. Reality is beginning to sink in.”

“What do you mean?” Henry’s voice was sharp, belying his nervousness at what he was about to see.

“They kept him drugged – not just to keep him alive given his condition – but also to keep him calm and accepting of what they said happened.” Maurice sighed and ran his hand wearily over his face. “The poor bastard is suffering from shock, I think.”

“We’ll be quick, and then Willow can make him sleep again until we know where to take him.” Buffy met Henry’s eyes. “Are you ready?”

The reporter reminded himself of the sights he’d seen when covering wars, but when the door swung open, nothing had prepared him for what he saw.

Gunn stared at them with tortured wide eyes. “She did this to me, didn’t she?”

“Shh, dear, just try to stay calm.” Dora rubbed her hand on his arm.

“Fucking hell!” Henry ducked out of the room and brought up the tea he’d drunk a little earlier. Doubled over and retching helplessly, Henry rested on hand on the wall. When he stood erect once more, he saw Willow watching him carefully.

“Are you alright?”

Henry wiped his mouth on his arm and nodded.

“You don’t need to go back inside. I’m going to make him rest now.”

“May I speak with him first?”

“Are you sure you want to?” Buffy put a hand on his arm.

“Yes.”

Buffy and Willow exchanged glances and then Willow stepped back to allow him to walk into the room.

“Don’t be long.”

“I couldn’t be if I wanted to,” Henry muttered as he passed her.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Gunn’s voice rose to almost a shout. “How can I even still be alive?”

“Mr. Gunn,” Henry said, focussing his gaze on the man’s eyes. “I am going to bring the things that woman and her organisation has done to the attention of the world. I’ll close the place down. I promise you that she will pay.”

“No!” Gunn tried and failed to slap Henry’s face. “I need to go back! She can make me whole again. If she could attach Lilah she could reattach me, couldn’t she?” He stared at each of them in turn. “Couldn’t she? I won’t have to stay like this? I can’t stay like this!”

Willow stepped closer, quietly reciting the incantation that had Gunn asleep even before she got to him.

“Could they mend him?” Dora asked, gently wiping the beads of sweat from Gunn’s brow with a handkerchief.

“Should they be allowed to?” Buffy said.

“No.” Henry stood up. “They can’t continue. Even if they could make him whole – how would he ever recover mentally?”

“But he would be whole again,” Willow said.

“The place has to be closed down. If the knowledge is there perhaps they can still repair him, but you can’t just let him go back and for them to continue,” Henry said. “My God, if I hadn’t seen what they’d done with my own eyes…” His words trailed off as he saw Spike standing at the doorway.

Spike rolled the one eye that he could and nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“I…er…I did—”

“It’s okay. But just remember that when you’re writing your little article that having eyes ripped out or thumbs amputated, your speech screwed up and your dick remotely controlled, was as bad for me as it would have been for you. I know that most vamps are evil bastards just looking for the next kill – but staking us, or hell, ramming those chips in our skulls would stop us. Don’t need to torture us, ‘cause I have to say, in all the demons I’ve met in my 150 years, I’ve never met monsters like those in that place.”

Buffy strode over to Spike and took his hands in hers. “We’ll do it, Spike. The place will be shut down.”

After a pause, Henry sidled towards to door, the sight of Gunn’s truncated body making him uncomfortable. “I need to speak with the other man, Finn?”

“Don’t let their meek appearances now fool you. They both really enjoyed their jobs.” Spike turned away. “I’ll be with the boys.”

Those who remained left the bedroom, leaving Gunn to rest alone. Maurice and Dora went to their bedroom. Maurice wanted to protect Dora from as many details as possible.”

Willow, Henry and Buffy could hear Spike and the boys talking quietly in the living room as they past it, and they returned to find Riley exactly where they’d left him.

With the recorder once more switched on, Riley began to outline his duties at the Initiative, and Buffy was pleased to see that he had the decency to look ashamed of the role he’d played.

Interviews done. Henry asked if he could take some photographs of Spike for the article. Buffy had been reluctant to ask Spike, but he agreed readily enough. He could guess how shocking his disfigurements would be, even with the newer more human looking eyes. His face would help sell the newspapers and spread the word.

Henry finally was teleported away, after spending several hours with them, armed with numerous tapes and photographs of them all except the Carmichaels.

Now all they could do was wait.



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