Previously: Xander managed to put aside his animosity toward Spike long enough for everyone to attempt Cordelia’s rescue. Buffy is feeling not so good and its less than a week until Christmas. This picks up exactly where we left everyone.
Book Two. Chapter 29. Relying on hope
To the last moment of his breath,
On hope the wretch relies;
And even the pang preceding death
Bids expectation rise.
Oliver Goldsmith, The Captivity. Act ii.
For the wretched
one night is like a thousand;
for someone faring well
death is just one more night.
Sophocles Fragments, l. 377
Destroy yourselves,
you who are desperate,
and you who are tortured in body and soul,
abandon all hope.
There is no more solace for you in this world.
The world lives off your rotting flesh.
Antonin Artaud, General Security: The Liquidation of Opium, (1925)
Just minutes after Spike’s pronouncement, Giles had excused himself in an effort to escape from the wrangling over the finer points of the plan. Buffy had watched him, her eyes meeting Wesley’s for a brief moment then her attention was drawn once more to their plan.
Before they had a chance to come up with something solid, Dawn, with Casey just steps behind her, traipsed in the doorway, toting the requested ginger ale. Dawn made her way into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of the bot. “Spike?”
Her voice was strained with mirth and he couldn’t figure out why, until he remembered they had forgottten to put the bot away. Luckily, Casey had stopped to talk to Buffy about something so Spike hustled into the kitchen and hastily put the bot back in storage.
Buffy took the brief lull Casey’s appearance allowed for and sought out Giles, who was sitting quietly in the living room.
“Hey.” He opened his eyes at her greeting, angling his head in her direction.
“Buffy.” Actually taking the opportunity to look at her, he was shocked at the fatigue in her eyes and drawn look to her features. Her normally golden color was a bit off and he could now clearly see how much she hid from the others. “Are you all right?”
“I’m pooped. Staying up most nights with Spike and pretending to be Connor’s mommy very early in the morning make a totally tired Buffy.” She shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
“Perhaps you should consider not going?” Buffy eyed him strangely, noting his own strained and tired look.
“Nope. Not unless you consider it.” She sat down on the couch facing him. “I’m fine, just tired.” She paused again, looking down at her hands. “How bad is she?”
“What? What makes you think this is in response . . ?” His voice trailed off when Buffy raised her eyebrow and just stared him down.
“Giles? I’m tired. Not blind or dumb.”
He grimaced, realizing he was going to have to tell someone. “Not good. By the amount of blood. . . I thought she was on red sheets until. . . “ he shook his head, unwilling to continue. “She’s tied to the bed, I couldn’t see how, but it probably involves chains.”
“Only if he thinks there’s a reason. Prob’ly tied her there with somethin’ else. Somethin’ designed to cause pain.” Spike’s voice sounded quietly from the kitchen doorway. He handed Buffy a glass of ginger ale, then folded his arms over his chest. “He’s goin’ for the hurt. Oxford said he was gettin’ the warm fuzzies for the girl. He’s tryin’ to break her.”
Buffy sipped the ginger ale, a slight grimace of distaste on her face. “You think he’s going to turn her.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.” Spike’s one word answer was enough for Buffy.
“We’re going in tonight.” Spike wasn’t the only one with a game face. The Slayer was suddenly sitting next to Giles, tired and under-the-weather Buffy long gone.
“Tonight? Are you certain?” Giles’ eyes were on his slayer.
“Yup.” She was nodding her head.
“Best we wait ‘til after midnight – this way if we get stuck, its close to daybreak an’ they can’t follow you when you get her out.” Spike laid a hand on her shoulder, absently running his thumb back and forth.
“So we gear up around midnight?” Xander’s voice preceded him into the living room.
“Looks like it.” Buffy was shaking her head. “We have one shot at this so it has to work.”
Wesley, who had followed Spike in from the kitchen, glanced down at his watch. “That gives us roughly seven hours.” At everyone’s nodded agreement, he continued, “then I suggest we get some sleep.”
Only Spike disagreed, but that was expected. “Don’t need it, but you, sunshine, should go.”
Turning watery eyes on him, Buffy asked, “come with?”
“Right then, see you lads later.” Spike’s dismissal was quick as he pulled Buffy to her feet. They disappeared up the stairs as the three men departed out the front door.
She knew something was up when Spike called her, telling her to come home, but wasn’t sure how serious it was until she’d come in the door.
For one thing, Wesley was still wearing the same clothes as last night. For another, Xander was in the dining room and he and Spike weren’t fighting. So whatever was going on had to be serious.
Dawn knew it was really bad when the bot was out of storage. And she was beginning to worry. She couldn’t ask point blank because Casey didn’t really know about the weirdness that was her life and it would take far too long to explain it to him. Not to mention so not wanting to go there at all.
Hearing them all leave like that clued her in a little more, but she also knew she couldn’t ask what was really going on while Casey was still around.
On the pretext of finding out if she could order a pizza for them, Dawn left Casey in front of the television and headed up the stairs.
They had climbed the stairs in silence, neither one of them inclined to talk. Buffy was feeling better, despite all the moving around, but still wasn’t up for the possible fight with Spike over the plan for the night.
Not that anyone else had been able to come up with something better. She didn’t like it, and some niggling sense kept her on edge about it. She didn’t like being split up from him while they were doing the rescuing bit. Didn’t even like patrolling without him – at least lately. While partially the claim, a just as real part of it was being skittish about certain things, not that fighting vampires was all that scary, it was the other stuff.
Knowing about Dawn had changed something fundamental for her. And that was before she knew the full truth.
Jumping to save Dawn had been the most right thing she’d ever done; it had also been the easiest. And now? Knowing the real truth – that Dawn was her daughter – Buffy would have only done one or two things differently. Now, with everything to live for, Buffy wasn’t inclined to take too many risks – and she was really afraid that something would go wrong and everything would fall apart, leaving her alone and without her mate. She didn’t think she could survive that.
Once inside their bedroom, Buffy turned to face her mate. The look on her features must have spoken volumes, because he opened his arms to enfold her and clasp her against his chest.
“I love you, you know, right?” A smile played across his face in answer, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Always. You too kitten.” His arms tightened around her as he walked her backwards to the bed. Gently he pushed her onto the mattress, his touch firm. “Back to bed with you missy.”
“I’m fine.” He just snorted loudly, raising an eyebrow at her less than enthusiastic assertion. “Really I am.”
“Sure thing Slayer. How’s tha’ belly?” Two arms on either side of her hips, Spike leaned over her. “Hhmmm? Feelin’ a bit topsy turvy yet?”
“Bleah. Meanie.” She stuck her tongue out at him, pouting when he pushed her down onto the pillows.
“Right. ‘M mean coz ‘m makin’ you nap.” He was smirking at her, his eyes laughing.
“No. You’re a meanie because you’re gonna leave me alone the minute I fall asleep.” Her lower lip pouted and Spike growled. “And you’re making with the rumblies now too.”
His bark of laughter caused an answering smile in her. “If you wanted to snuggle, all you had to do was ask, love.” He pushed her further onto the bed, “shove over then.”
Once he was next to her, Buffy rolled into his waiting arms basking in his attention. He murmured into her hair as her eyes drifted closed. “Only have to ask kitten.”
Her eyes had just closed when Dawn snuck in the door after knocking. Finding the two of them on the bed, Buffy’s eyes already closed, Dawn knew something very serious was up – and not just the slayer stuff.
“What’s up?” Dawn walked toward the bed, trying not to disturb Buffy too much. Spike shifted a bit, eyeing her over his shoulder.
“Buffy’s feelin’ poorly an’ she’s gettin’ some kip before we go out tonight.”
“Yeah about that. . . what’s going on?” Dawn folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.
She looked so much like Buffy that he had to laugh. Buffy opened her eyes and asked “what’s so funny?”
Spike nudged her, saying, “that look’s pure Slayer, love, nothin’ of me in there ‘tall.”
“Ahuh.” Buffy rolled her eyes, focusing on Dawn again. “Angel has Cordelia and we’re gonna rescue her tonight.”
Dawn’s expression faltered, knowing what that could mean. “Do you think she’s okay?”
“No. Giles caught a glimpse of her and she’s gotta go right to the hospital.” Buffy brushed her hair away from her face and laid her head down on Spike’s chest. “We’re gonna need you to take care of Connor tonight, while the rest of us sleep.”
Glancing over at the crib, Dawn made a face then gave in. “Sure. I’ll get him when he wakes up.” She started to leave, then remembered her original purpose. “Is it okay if I order a couple of pizzas?”
“Get some wings too, ” was Spike’s only comment as she headed for the door.
“All right. I’ll see you later.”
Buffy snuggled closer into Spike’s arms and closed her eyes again without another word.
It was half eleven when the Watchers arrived and five minutes later when Xander and Anya walked in the door. Spike had been up for hours polishing weapons and Buffy had gotten up just after ten and showered. She’d tried once to talk him out of going with the bot, but he had retorted with “only if you stay home” which effectively ended that discussion.
Tara had ventured upstairs while Casey was still around and therefore had gotten a bare account of what was going on, but it was enough to alert her to the situation.
The bot was brought out of storage and given instructions which consisted of nothing more than do exactly what Spike says and ask no questions. Spike still had no idea what he was going to do, his only thought at the moment was to somehow draw the two master vampires away from the mansion. It was the how that was currently escaping him.
Looking around at everyone ranged about the dining room, Spike idly noted that the rest had done them all some good. Even Buffy was feeling better, that nausea dissipating after the enforced sleep. Her hazel green eyes sparked with life again and while her mood wasn’t exactly cheerful, she was back to herself.
She caught him looking at her and she tried forming a question in her head and was rewarded half a second later when his answer came through loud and clear. She didn’t have time to answer him, though, because Giles was talking and then it was time for him to go.
The plan, such as it was, hinged on Spike’s ability to lure the others away from the mansion, and, when he had their full attention, somehow telepathically let Buffy know it was time. The rescue group would be watching the mansion anyway, and they would move on Buffy’s signal. Once Cordelia was free, Wesley and Giles were going to take her to the hospital and Buffy was going to join Spike and the bot, hopefully confusing the hell out of the two vampires.
It wasn’t a great plan. It wasn’t even a good one. It was so lame that none of them thought it would work. However, they didn’t have any more time to come up with anything better, much less something that was guaranteed to work.
Spike was gone with the bot beside him, and the others were going to wait a half hour to forty-five minutes, then head over to the mansion.
He’d started out toward Restfield, intending to just cause a huge ruckus, hoping that the other two would hear of it and head out, when he stopped in his tracks, a thought swirling around in his head. Changing his mind abruptly, Spike headed straight for the mansion. If he was going to draw them out, he might as well ensure that they were out – and if he took out a few of the minions along the way, so much the better.
Change of plans, kitten, be ready to roll when I give a shout, was his last thought to Buffy before he shut down and focused on the new plan.
Cordelia hadn’t been so far gone when Drusilla interrupted Angel earlier that she missed what the insane vampire had said. So when the first vision had started, instead of reacting, Cordelia let it come. The pain that usually accompanied the visions was gone – overwhelmed by the pain her entire body was in. A little blinding headache wasn’t going to matter one way or another.
So she kept her silence, while Angelus and Drusiall tortured her body and watched as the disjointed visions showed herself, Wesley, Buffy and Spike fighting Drusilla, Angel grabbing Buffy by the throat – and then they ceased.
To afraid to guess at a meaning, Cordelia shut down again, forcing her mind away, detaching – until another vision assailed her battered psyche. This one, as earlier, was filled with images of Spike and Buffy and Xander . . . and Giles. Shuddering under the strain of keeping silent, Cordelia finally succumbed to the pain her body was in and surrendered consciousness.
And so she missed it completely when the first wave of the cavalry strode, black leather swirling, into the mansion, fists, fangs and swinging weapons, killing more than a few of Angel’s newest minions.
Without coming up with a better plan on the short walk to the mansion, Spike sent another thought to his mate, then closed off his emotions. He didn’t relish the idea of going against his sire or Angelus - the call of famiiy bonds was still strong – yet his bond with Buffy carried more weight. She had asked, he would do. For no other reason. He didn’t fool himself that he felt compassion for Cordelia – nor that he knew it was the right thing to rescue her – he just wasn’t sure he cared; it was enough for him that Buffy did.
Dragging on a cigarette, Spike contemplated the mansion in front of him. If he could hate a building, Spike hated this one. Hadn’t liked the decor from the beginning, all pseudo Spanish castello with a bit of art-deco thrown in for good measure, it housed some of the worst memories of his existence.
Being unable to walk while Angel fucked his woman under his bloody nose – within eye and ear-shot of him – hours on end.
His rage had been what set him on this path - -the behavior of the two of them – carrying on like he didn’t even exist – or was so far beneath their notice that it didn’t merit consideration had been the impetuous that goaded him into seeking out his own personal nemesis.
He’d already decided that it had been worth it – all that humiliation and anger. Stretching his neck side to side, Spike dropped the smoldering cigarette butt onto the ground, grinding it out with his boot. Addressing his companion, Spike said, “let’s go slay the minions.”
The bot’s only reaction was a bright perky smile and an “okie dokie Spike.”
Rolling his eyes, Spike followed after the bot.
The sounds of fighting reached both of them at the same time, and Drusilla looked up from her position between Cordelia’s thighs and growled.
It took Angel a moment longer, but when Spike’s unmistakable chuckle sounded in the air, he moved away from the two women, reaching for his trousers, muttering curses as he dressed.
Slapping Drusilla on the ass, Angel said, “now princess, no time to play with our guest.”
She scrambled from the bed, scampering into their room to retrieve her clothes. They could hear the sounds of fighting, Spike’s voice throwing laughing insults at his foes while Buffy’s voice chattered inanely in the background.
They were dressed and at the door of the bedroom in time to watch the Slayer and her pet dust some minions – one of which Angel had come to rely upon because of his brain and skill with electronics. With a growl Angel headed for Drusilla’s errant childe.
Sensing the presence of the other two, Spike signaled to the bot and slowly started retreating for the door. Drusilla screeched when the bot smacked her in the head, then followed Spike out the door.
The fight spilled out into the street, as Spike and the bot slowly gave ground.
Focusing on the bond between himself and Buffy, Spike sent his message through to her.
She hated watching him go. Hated the idea that he was fighting without her. Hated waiting. Buffy really, really hated waiting.
Not for the first time since Spike and her robotic doppelganger had walked out the door, Buffy turned concerned eyes on the two watchers and said, “I should have gone.”
This last time Giles had merely raised an eyebrow and remained silent, while Wesley drank his tea. “How can you two be so calm? Is it some strange English guy thing?”
Wesley merely smiled and Giles answered, “yes. We’re bred this way, don’t you know?”
“Very funny.” She stopped talking, the quip dying before she voiced it. She waited a bit listening to something only she could hear and then after a moment of intense concentration, said, “okay people, let’s get ready.”
The general clattering of weapons being picked then discarded sounded in the quiet suburban home and grim faces were evident all around. Wesley hefted a pair of heavy bolt-cutters in addition to a sword, while Giles decided between an axe and a short sword. Anya watched them, then got up to leave the room.
She was back in moments, thrusting an old sheet at Buffy. “Here take this.”
“What for?” Buffy looked from it to Anya wondering what on earth the other girl was thinking.
“For Cordelia. In case she’s all naked and bloody. Because I wouldn’t want all these strange men looking at me unless it was group. . . well, never mind, you know what I mean.”
And strangely enough, once Anya started to explain, Buffy knew exactly what she meant. Thanking her, Buffy motioned to the sheet. “Think you can find another one just in case?”
With a quiet nod, Anya headed for the second floor linen closet.
They were halfway down the block when Drusilla tried gouging out the slayer’s eyes and the bot retaliated by knocking her off her feet, sending her into the side of another house, setting off alarms. Spike paused in his all out battle with Angel, calling out to the bot, then with a look that was designed to boil the older vampire’s borrowed blood, Spike taunted him mercilessly.
Drusilla got to her feet, practically flying toward the bot, while it and Spike continued to draw the other two away. The bot aimed another whirling kick at Drusilla, this time missing her and Drusilla stalked after the robot, hissing and swaying like a maddened cat. Spike nailed Angel from behind, grabbing his attention with a series of punches to the bigger vampire’s gut, driving him backwards toward the house with the shrieking alarms.
Police sirens sounded and although they weren’t part of his original plan, Spike used them to his advantage. “Love to continue this gramps, but Sunnydale’s most oblivious are arrivin'. Might want to chase after Dru an’ hide. . . “ and with that he raced off after the two fighting females.
Angel took a moment to shake off the broken ribs, realized what Spike had said and followed.
Spike’s second message ripped through her head and Buffy growled at everyone. “Let’s move people, now.”
She grabbed the sheets Anya had gathered and headed for the door.
They cruised up to the mansion without lights, the whirling flare of the police vehicles at the end of the block not impeding their progress.
Buffy was out of the Jeep before Wesley had come to a complete stop, heading straight for the front door. Xander was right behind her and the two Englishmen made up the rear. She only slowed down as she neared the door, trying to sense how many minions were left behind.
Not watching to see who was behind her, Buffy said, “I’m going in first. Everyone in pairs, Xander you stay with me. Giles and Wes you go find Cordy. We’ll back you up.”
Deciding stealth wasn’t important, Buffy kicked open the door and stormed in.
Spike caught up with Drusilla and the bot just as Dru pinned the bot against one of the old high school walls. Swaying slightly, the vampire sing-songed at the bot, trying to thrall her. If the situation wasn’t so important, to keep Dru and Angelus occupied, Spike would have laughed out loud. As it stood, he was still trying not to chuckle.
Instead, he grabbed Drusilla by the throat, grinding out, “can’t let you do that pet.”
With her nails drawing furrows in his hands, Spike held her up off the ground until he could hear the lumbering feet of his grandsire. Making a face and glancing at the bot, Spike said, “I’ll take care of Dru love, you see to the poofter.”
Angel loomed into view and the bot nailed the side of his head with a flying kick that had him reeling. Spike watched with a jaded eye while Dru shrieked and scrambled trying to pry his vice-like fingers from around her neck.
To Spike’s eye – it was obvious this wasn’t Buffy – but neither of the other two had spent the amount of time with her that he had and not nearly enough to know the difference. Which just amused him no end.
Some death-defying love Angel had professed. Couldn’t even tell his “love” wasn’t real.
Spike laughed.
Buffy was trying hard to believe it was this simple. The house was deserted – no minions guarding at all. It was almost no fun. And then her mind registered that no, tonight wasn’t supposed to be fun – it was supposed to be just about rescuing Cordelia.
It wasn’t until they headed for the short flight of steps leading to the mid-level that the first sign of resistance appeared. Two vampires came at them, bigger and stronger than any of them had expected. Buffy ducked under a punch, rolling to her feet behind one, dusting him from the back, when another three vamps came up from the first floor, surrounding them.
Leaving Xander and Giles to battle the first vampire, Buffy turned to aid Wesley who was barely holding his own against the newcomers. Quickly knocking two of them away, Buffy held onto one while Wesley sliced off its head, and then turned as one of the others jumped on Xander’s back. Yelling “duck!” Buffy swung them both around and Xander dropped to his knees, giving Buffy a clear path to the vamp’s chest.
Outnumbered two to one now, the vampires broke and ran. Giles headed unerringly toward the room where he’d spotted Cordelia, motioning toward the other room, calling out to Xander, “there’s another girl in there.”
The sudden disappearance of her captors had roused Cordelia from the fugue state she retreated to. The noises and sounds from the outer rooms meant nothing, although she thought, at one point, that she’d heard Buffy’s voice, but dismissed it as her mind’s wish, not reality.
It wasn’t long before the noises had stopped, leaving a void that again allowed her to slip out of consciousness. She never heard the whoop of the nearby house alarm, nor the renewed sounds of fighting, until the door to her cell splintered and cracked.
Fear rose up in her belly, racing through her like a firestorm and her entire body started convulsing. Voices and images swam around her, making no sense and Cordy screamed a long wild keening cry of abject fear and terror, raising the hackles of her rescuers, echoing in the suddenly still house.
A crisp cool voice echoed in her head, calling her name while strong hands pushed and pulled at her bonds, ripping open half-healed cuts. The sickly sweet scent of fresh blood filled the air and Cordelia cried out as her bonds were loosened, her arms brought down to her sides.
“Cordy. . . . Cordy. . . its me. . . c’mon Cordy. . . shhhh. . its Buffy.”
Cordelia opened one eye, saw the blond hair through the haze of tears and screamed.
It was carnage.
Brutal.
The body that once forged almost every wet dream of a teenaged Xander Harris was destroyed beyond imagining.
There was blood everywhere.
Dried spots on the floor.
Newer, fresher sticky wet puddles of it around the bed.
Big blooming splotches of it, like obscene roses, on the sheets beneath the pale body.
A once virginal bride’s veil was stuck to her battered skin, dyed maroon and cerise, and garish girly shades of pink.
Buffy forced away the rising nausea at her once reluctant friend’s form and battled her own tears.
Wesley stopped behind her, staring at the nightmare vision before them. “My god” breathed from him and Buffy silently echoed the sentiment.
Giles was moving toward the bed, able to focus only on parts – not the whole of the damage. Grasping his lethally sharp blade, he sliced through the leather as near to her skin as possible.
Her arm coming free galvanized the still form on the bed. Shivering, shaking, she flailed out at her rescuers, unable to comprehend she was saved because of the terror rising in her.
Buffy and Wesley moved together, their shock wearing off in the face of Cordelia’s reaction. Xander appeared in the doorway and Buffy yelled at him to get the sheets. Her eyes had been drawn to the bloodied veil and her brain focused on removing the obscenity from Cordelia’s flesh.
She was screaming now, absolute terror ruling her and every time one of them tried to touch her, she writhed and bucked off their hands. Wesley cut the last of her bonds and Cordelia lashed out with heartbreakingly feeble strength, kicking and flailing. Buffy tried calling out for her, using her name, calling her repeatedly and yet each time Cordelia’s convulsing worsened. She stilled as Xander returned, handing Buffy the sheets, opening one eye.
Cordelia appeared to focus, then let loose with a bloodcurdling scream.
With tears streaming down her face, Buffy looked at the three men around her, noting they too were crying, and made a decision. Whispering softly to Cordelia, Buffy simply said “sorry”, drew back her fist and knocked Cordelia out cold.
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