DREAMING OF YOU

CHAPTER TWO

REALITY

Buffy had no clue how long she had been a prisoner. RatBastardWatcher had taken her watch, while she was still unconscious, when he had first brought her here and the light was always switched on, in this underground room. She was always hungry and, unlike Spike, she had no innate sense of day and night. She figured it had been days.

Spike must be so worried or maybe, with their lack of contact, he thought she was dead. Would he die, without her? Maybe he already had; without their telepathic connection, how would she know?

“Feeling the separation, Miss Summers?”

Buffy looked up from the floor, in shock. How had RatBastardWatcher got in the room without her knowing? How long had he been there?

“You’re getting weaker and he will be, as well. Tell me what I want to know and it will be quick.”

“You want to write it all down, in your lame journals?” Buffy sneered.

Her mind was trying to work; RatBastardWatcher was wearing a different suit - still tweed but different from last time. Did that mean it was a different day?

“The last time this happened, was millennia ago. The records were sketchy, at best. The Watchers council need to know why this has happened, in order to prevent it from happening again. You were a slayer, you were supposed to fight vampires. Instead, you join with one of the most ruthless, notorious vampires who ever existed.”

“Is that why you made it so everyone forgot I ever existed?”

“Not at all, once you failed your cruciamentum, the spell was inevitable.”

“I didn’t fail.” Buffy muttered.

“Travers reported that you had died. Unlike most slayers, you were not under our control. American parents are fond of suing over every little thing that goes wrong in the lives of their offspring. Your mother would have made a fuss. She would have drawn attention to the council. We could not allow that.

“We considered every option, we could have had her killed but we were not sure enough of your watcher. Travers reported that he was baulking at your test conditions. Giles didn’t think it was fair.” He said this last word, as though he was swearing. “If your mother had died too… It seemed the forgetting spell was the best course of action. Far easier if the world forgot you.”

“You can’t just play with people’s lives.”

“You are not ‘people’; the slayers belong to the Watchers council. You are weapons in our arsenal in the war against evil.”

“What happened to the other slayer?” Buffy asked, wanting to break his neck for his attitude but wanting information, too.

“Her watcher killed her; only someone she trusted could get close enough. It had to be done; with her lifespan tied to that of the vampire, it could have been centuries before another slayer was called.”

“My replacement‘s already been called, you don’t need to kill me. I‘m still fighting evil.” Buffy replied, thinking furiously. Her lifespan was tied to Spike’s? Did that mean she wouldn’t age? If she got out of this, would she and Spike have centuries together?

“When you die, William the Bloody will die with you. I’ll be doing the world a service.”

“He’s not evil, anymore. He stopped Acathla and saved the world.”

“He is leeching your soul, through the bond.”

“We weren’t bonded, then. He did it because he loved me.”

“You really believe that?” He sneered, “He just wanted to bond with you. Why do you suppose he seeks out slayers? He wanted the power he would gain. The other two, saw through his act and he killed them. You are just a silly little girl, who fell for his manipulation.”

With this parting shot, RatBastardWatcher, left.

Spike actually owned a house, in England. Buffy had known, vaguely, that he had money but a whole house, that he didn’t live in?

“I bought it, just before I was turned. I was planning on proposing marriage to… a lady of my acquaintance and I wanted something to offer her. I didn’t feel that she would be comfortable moving into the same house as Mother, with her illness… So, I bought ‘The Folly’.” He explained.

“The Folly. Nice name.” Buffy said, inwardly smiling at the way his choice of words always changed when he was talking about his pre-vampire past.

“It‘s ‘William’s Folly’, actually; after Cecily, I renamed the place. I intended to take Dru there but she didn’t want to settle down.”

“Third time’s the charm.” Buffy murmured.

“You don’t mind? You wouldn’t rather I sold it and bought one with you in mind?” Spike asked, concerned that he might have hurt Buffy’s feelings.

“I’m the first woman you’ll have taken there?”

“Yeah and the only one, ever.”

“Then it’s fine. After all, I haven’t asked you to stop wearing the coat, have I?”

Once their minds were linked, they had found out lots of random stuff about each other. Buffy had been stunned to discover that Spike’s coat had been stripped from the still-warm body of a dead slayer. That explained all the custom made pockets and weapons - Spike was the only person she knew, who could carry a concealed crossbow! She knew she should be grossed out but she could feel Spike’s affection for the coat and his respect for its former owner.

“Dalton phoned ahead and got the caretakers to get everything ready.” Spike said, hoping that the place wouldn’t feel musty and unlived in.

Dalton had stayed behind, in Sunnydale, to keep an eye on Buffy’s mother. Just because she’d forgotten about all the nasties in town, didn’t mean she was immune to attack. He’d also been spending his time researching Buffy and Spike’s new ‘condition’ and had come up with some interesting information.

Like some animals, some demons mated for life and, as sentient beings, mutually chose each other and ‘bonded’, almost becoming one being. The advantages to this were increased strength, an awareness of each others thoughts and a greatly enhanced sex life. The disadvantage was simple, the death of one meant the death of both.

Vampires, very rarely bonded but it was not unheard of. Angelus had known of one such pairing but had, apparently, been sickened by the very idea. He had never bothered to pass his knowledge on to Drusilla and she, had she known it, would never have told Spike.

There were various forms of the bond: both parties dominant - during sex, both parties bite the other and declare ‘mine’; one dominant, one submissive - one declares ‘mine’ the other ‘yours’ and, finally, the strongest bond; both parties declare ‘yours’. The form the bonding took was dependant on the true feelings of both parties, the wording couldn’t be chosen. Remarkably, in total ignorance of what they were doing, Spike and Buffy were pledged to one another in the strongest possible way. As far as Dalton’s research went, a vampire/slayer pairing was unprecedented. He had no idea what powers the two of them would gain and eagerly waited for Spike’s phone calls and emails, updating him.

Buffy adored the house. It was Victorian - obviously - and William had originally had it furnished in the - then - latest style. ‘Quaint’ was the first word that came into Buffy’s head.

‘Tactless bloody yank!’ Spike thought, with affection.

‘Yeah, that’s me. Where’s the bedroom?’ Buffy thought back.

The bed was a sumptuous four poster. Heavy mahogany, softened by cream lace canopy and curtains. Crimson satin sheets completed the look. Spike smiled, the caretakers had done their jobs well.

He’d hired the Brachen demon couple, years previously; mostly because they could pass for human and he trusted them. As technology had advanced, they had ‘tweaked’ the house accordingly. The fireplaces in every room, were now just a functioning decorative feature, not a necessity; under-floor heating took care of the day to day needs. The Victorian plumbing had been redone to keep the look but update the pipe work.

Best of all, were the windows. Ever mindful of Spike’s needs, the couple had installed Necro-tempered glass, throughout. Inside the house, daylight would no longer be an issue.

The loyal demon couple had waited years for Spike to come home…

* * * * *

REALITY

Buffy lay back, the satin caressing her naked skin and Spike’s cool fingers and tongue exploring her. She could taste her own excitement, through their link and could feel Spike’s desire rising…

“What are you thinking about, Miss Summers?” RatBastardWatcher’s hateful voice, brought her back to reality, with a jolt. “You look so… satisfied.”

“Your death.” Buffy replied, disgusted that, once again, he’d entered the room without her noticing.

He smiled, as the crystal flared red.

“I don’t think so.” He said. “Are you ready to talk to me, yet?”

“Why do you want to know Spike’s location? I die, he dies, what more do you want?”

“Oh please, do you think I just want you and him dead? What about all his minions? I can’t leave them running around with no master, now can I?”

“Can’t you?” Buffy replied, coldly, wondering what he’d think if knew that they had no minions - not in England, anyway.

“I need his location and I need to know why you ended up changing sides. Was it because of your watcher?”

“Why would it be because of Giles?”

“It isn’t as though he was the best we had but then, neither were you. You weren’t under our control; we somehow failed to locate you while you were still a potential - silly, blonde, Californian airhead - none of us thought you’d last. Merrick, Giles; neither of them top men because when an untrained potential is called, they usually take their watchers down with them.”

“Poor Merrick, he was so proud he’d been chosen.” Buffy said, remembering how shocking it had been to find out what she was and how wretched she felt, after Merrick’s death, when her parents booked her into the sanatorium.

“Did Giles bungle your training, in some way?”

“No. Giles was like a father to me.”

“That accounts for it. No objectivity. How can a watcher send his slayer out to fight and maybe die, if he cares for her?”

“How did you even know I was still alive?” Buffy asked, changing the subject. She really didn’t want to get into the problems Giles had had, after Jenny’s death.

“You must be really foolish if you thought you could stay hidden.” RatBastardWatcher said, with a smug smile. “We regularly perform locator spells, to find potential slayers. You were pinpointed but I was the only person who could see it.”

“Because you’re the only one who remembers me.”

“The spell gave a time and a place, I simply showed up and dealt with you.”

Buffy remembered how happy she had been. She’d found a decent sized shopping mall and was spending the day. She had her new card and she was planning some surprises for Spike - sexy underwear to make his eyes pop - but first, she needed a whole new wardrobe…

She had practiced ‘hiding’ things from Spike; it wouldn’t do for him to know everything she was thinking, surprises were good. She managed to conceal the sexy undies and to make him feel better about that, she had opened up to him in a couple of shop changing rooms and asked his opinion on clothes she was trying on. This link they had was brilliant, he could be with her, even in daytime when he couldn’t leave the house.

She had stopped in the food hall, for coffee and a slice of chocolate cake and looking back, that must have been when it happened. The elderly man, who politely asked if he could share her table in the increasingly busy coffee section, turned out to be RatBastardWatcher.

Buffy had begun to feel woozy, even before she had finished her coffee and the last thing she remembered, was the man, putting his arm around her and helping her towards the car park.

“You drugged me and abducted me, in front of all those people. None of them tried to help me?” Buffy said, disgusted.

“I told them that you were my grand-daughter and ‘in the family way’, they were very kind and helpful.” He said, smugly.

“You deserve what Spike’s going to do to you.” Buffy said, coldly.

“Your pet vampire will do nothing to me. I’m tired of playing with you, Miss Summers.” With these ominous words, RatBastardWatcher pointed his gun at her and fired…

DREAMING

Buffy was in the courtyard. The sun was shining and she felt warm and safe. ‘Courtyard’ was a bit of a grand name for it, it was just a small walled portion of the garden, that could only be reached from the house. At mid-day, it was a total suntrap and Buffy liked to lie on a sun-lounger and soak up the rays. Her only regret, was that Spike couldn’t join her. Still, he really appreciated her all-over tan and he liked to see her, from the safety of the window, her nude body glowing in the sunlight and glistening with oil.

She could feel him watching her and she slowly and teasingly rolled over on to her back.

‘Come back to me,’ His voice reverberated in her head. ‘Where are you, my love? BUFFY!’

She opened her eyes, with a gasp.

REALITY

“Back with us, Miss Summers?” RatBastardWatcher said, with a sarcastic smile.

Buffy’s memories flooded back. RatBastardWatcher shooting her with a tranquillizer dart, everything fading away and then…

‘Spike,’

‘Buffy, thank God, you’re alive. Where are you?’

Their telepathic connection was back.

‘I don’t know,’ Buffy ‘replied’. ‘I’m in a cellar. It’s the RatBastardWatcher that cast the forgetting spell. He wants to kill us. He says that when he kills me, you’ll die too.’

“Yes, Miss Summers,” RatBastardWatcher said, watching Buffy’s far away expression, as she silently communicated with Spike. “I’ve lifted the barrier spell that was keeping you and your ‘mate’ apart.” He said the word ‘mate’ with distaste, as though the concept was the vilest thing in existence.

Buffy tried to sit up but it was too much. The chains felt heavy, too heavy for her to lift.

“You’re drugged, of course.” RatBastardWatcher said, smugly. “Lifting the spell, has the side effect of rendering the chains breakable. I had to ‘give you a shot’ I believe is the American vernacular. I’m sure that you remember the effects of the substance, from your cruciamentum. Of course, I’ve had to use a stronger dose.”

“Why..?”

“Did I lift the spell? So that your vampire would know what was happening. So he could see the face of his killer and know, in his last moments, that the council of watchers has won.”

“I don’t understand why you hate us, so much.” Buffy said, trying to keep him talking, the way Spike had asked. “We’re not harming anyone, Spike’s even saved the world. Why do you want us dead?”

“I’ve told you before, Miss Summers, slayers can’t be permitted to bond with vampires. The vampire gains too much power and the slayer stops aging. Without the death of the slayer, a new one can’t be called.”

“But, a new one has been called. Kendra. What’s the matter, she’s not compliant enough for you?”

RatBastardWatcher muttered something.

“Huh?” Buffy asked.

“I said, Kendra failed her cruciamentum. We don’t understand why. We gave her every advantage, plenty of weapons lying around, a docile opponent…”

“Oh, I see, the cruciamentum really isn’t fair. You all wanted me dead very badly, didn’t you.”

“As I said, we didn’t control you, when you were a potential; we knew that once you came of age, you would be even harder to control.”

“What’s the new girl like?” Buffy asked, feeling sad for Kendra but feeling hatred for the watchers council even more.

“Another loose canon. I don’t know what’s gone wrong with the slayer line. We locate potentials, prepare them, train them and then, some unlocated piece of garbage gets chosen.”

“Maybe the powers are trying to tell you something.” Buffy said, marvelling at this man’s obvious hatred of anyone he couldn’t control.

“She’ll have to be put down. Force another to be chosen, someone more suitable.” He said, matter of factly, as though discussing the weather.

“Is that what you’re doing to me? Putting me down, like a sick animal.” Buffy was outraged. Bad enough to be murdered but this?

“Yes,” He said, thoughtfully, “It’s exactly like that. It won’t be me, though. You’ll have the pleasure of knowing that your death will be doing some good. You’re going to be a training exercise.” He raised his voice, “Wesley, come in here, please.”

A younger man entered the room. He was dressed in a suit, wore glasses and looked extremely uncomfortable.

“What would you like me to do, Father?” He asked, nervously.

“This is the final part of your watcher training. You are very fortunate, we don’t usually have the opportunity to offer this. Before you, you see a rogue slayer. She has pair bonded with a vampire - William the Bloody - and she is to be killed. Now, obviously, this sort of thing doesn’t happen very often but watchers do have to make difficult decisions, sometimes having to execute their charges.” He handed Wesley a gun.

The young would-be watcher, looked at the gun, at Buffy and then, at his father.

“You expect me to…?” He looked like he would be sick.

“Yes. What on Earth’s the matter, boy? You killed that vampire, without too much trouble. Although, they did have to hold it down for you. And then, there was that embarrassing asthma attack you had, when you breathed the dust but that won’t happen, this time. Just try not to get covered in blood.”

“Father, I can’t just kill a helpless girl.”

“She is not a ‘helpless girl’. She’s an out of control, slayer whore, who’s giving it up to a vampire, night after night. She needs to die.”

“How can she be The Slayer? She looks nothing like Faith.”

“Honestly boy, how could I have been cursed with such a fool for a son? She’s Kendra’s predecessor.”

“So how is she still alive? She can’t be a vampire, bullets don’t harm them.” Wesley asked, trying to put off this terrible task his father had asked of him.

“She drowned and someone resuscitated her. There are two slayers, now.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Weren’t you listening?” He turned to his son and started to speak to him as though he was a moron. “She is bonded with a vampire. When she dies, he dies, now, be a man for a change and kill her.”

Wesley nervously fingered the gun, hoping that this was a different kind of test and his father would let it go only so far, before he relented. He couldn’t shoot this poor, chained, girl.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, boy, do I have to hold your finger on the trigger? Be a man.”

“Very well, Father.” Wesley said, quietly and with a weary resignation in his voice.

Holding his breath, he carefully took aim at Buffy. RatBastardWatcher, satisfied that his order was going to be carried out, looked down at Buffy, a smug smile on his face. Buffy looked up, helplessly, at the barrel, waiting for the bullet that would end her life.

‘Spike,‘ She said, in her head, surprisingly calmly. ‘I love you.‘

She closed her eyes and Wesley fired.

The noise was deafening, in the enclosed space of the cellar and the room was showered with blood, brain matter and splinters of bone. Wesley dropped the gun and stared, in shock, at the hideous mess that had been a human being’s head. He turned away and was violently sick.

Buffy, laying on the floor, too weakened by drugs to move, opened her eyes and found herself face to… well, not ‘face’ because RatBastardWatcher, no longer had one. What he had instead, was an exit wound. The middle of his face was now, a gaping, dripping, red hole. One of his eyes hung sideways, still attached to the optic nerve, the other was missing. If Buffy could turn to look, she would have seen it, sliding, gloopily down the wall. This, more than any of it, had made Wesley sick.

“I’ve done it, now.” Wesley muttered, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his suit.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, quietly.

Wesley ignored her and walked to his father’s corpse. He stared down at it for a few seconds and then started to kick.

“FUCK YOU!” He shouted, punctuating each kick. “FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! YOU OVERBEARING, UNFEELING, FUCKING CUNT!”

Screaming this last word, at the top of his lungs, seemed to take the last of his anger and he stopped.

“Are you alright?” He asked Buffy, calmly.

“Yeah, you?”

“Oh, yes! I’ve waited my whole life, to do that.”

He went to Buffy and started to unfasten her chains.

“Is there an antidote for the stuff he’s shot me up with?” Buffy asked. “I don’t know what it’s called, it’s the stuff they use for the cruciamentum.”

“Yes. Upstairs, I’ll phone the police while I’m up there.”

“Why?”

“So they can arrest me.” He replied, as if it was obvious.

“Is that what you want?”

“No…but…”

“Tell me the address of this place and when Spike turns up, invite him in. He’ll sort it.”

“Sort it?” Wesley repeated, blankly.

“Yeah. He knows people… er… demon people… scavengers. Once they’ve finished, no will ever know. Not forensics, not anyone.”

“He won’t kill me?”

“You’ve just saved my life, Wesley, the worst thing Spike will do to you, is thank you.”

Wesley smiled and told Buffy the location of the house.

“Any chance of a shower and fresh clothes?” She looked down at herself, “Coz….eww.”

Wesley looked at her, covered in blood and… He started to feel sick again, he was sure she had one of his father’s teeth in her hair.

“Can you stand?”

Buffy sat up, experimentally. Now the chains weren’t weighing her down, she felt slightly better. Wesley helped her to her feet.

* * * * *

Buffy sighed with pleasure as the hot water streamed down over her soapy body. All was right with the world. Spike was on his way, RatBastardWatcher was dead, she’d had the antidote, was feeling stronger and, best of all, was getting clean.

She shuddered, as, while washing her hair, something bony detached from it and clinked its way to the plug hole. Would she ever feel clean again?

Drying herself off, she found that Wesley had left her a large cable knit sweater and a pair of extremely clean boxers. She put them on. The sweater was long enough, on her, to pass as a dress and, looking at her reflection, the colour even suited. A kind of mossy green that brought out her eyes.

She smelled food cooking.

By the time Spike arrived, Buffy was feeling much better. Wesley had bagged their clothes in a bin liner, showered, changed and had made her some hot soup.

Once inside the house, Spike shook Wesley’s hand.

“I can’t thank you enough, mate.” He said.

“I didn’t really do it…for Buffy… although, that was part of it, it was more… I just couldn’t take it, anymore.” Wesley said, embarrassed by Spike’s effusive thanks.

“The yanks call that ‘having issues’,” Spike said, managing to make Wesley feel as if there was a kind of English camaraderie between them.

Wesley laughed.

“Thank God I‘m English,” He said, when he’d caught his breath, “Or I’d have to be in therapy for years.”

“I would say,” Spike said, smiling, “That you worked out any issues you had with your father. Now, let’s see if we can fix it so you don’t get punished.”

“I told him you could help… with the disposal.” Buffy said, squeezing Spike’s hand.

“Clean up crew are down there, now.” Spike said. “Great guys, only found in England, feed on any kind of organic waste. Ever see the movie ‘Critters‘?”

“I must have missed that one.” Wesley said.

“There’ll be nothing left, believe me. I’m more worried about you.”

“I feel great.”

“Yeah, that’ll wear off. The first time, particularly if it’s someone you hated, there’s a rush - a high, if you like - it doesn’t last. When it crashes, there’ll be guilt - he was your father, after all - right or wrong, you’re gonna feel remorse.”

“What do you suggest?”

“You should get out of this house, for a few days. Is there anywhere you can go?”

“Not really…” Wesley looked away, managing to convey, with that downcast look, that he had no friends.

“Oh, sod it; come home with us, for a few days. We’ll take care of you.” Spike said.

“Really?”

“Least we can do, mate.”

* * * * *

“It’s done.” Dalton said, happily, turning from his computer screen and speaking to Spike on his phone.

Spike flicked a switch and put the conversation on speakerphone.

“According to flight records, Roger Wyndham-Pryce, boarded an aeroplane bound for southern Spain, in the early hours of this morning. When he turns up missing, it will be presumed that he’s walked out on his family of his own free will.” Dalton continued.

“I think Mother will be relieved, more than anything.” Wesley said, looking up from the complicated sweater he was knitting. “Father packed her off to a health spa for a month, presumably so he wouldn’t be interrupted; now, Mother will think he wanted her out of the way for a very different reason.”

“So,” Buffy said, “What are we doing about my mom?”

“You’re booked on a flight to Sunnydale, leaving 10am tomorrow, your time.” Dalton told her.

“And Spike?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t fly, pet - the whole sunlight thing - and you need to get there now…”

“I know. It’s just…flying all that way, on my own…”

“I’d be honoured to accompany you, Buffy.” Wesley said, unexpectedly. “After all, it was my father that caused the problem.”

While Buffy had been held captive, Dalton had phoned to say that Buffy’s mom was being treated for a brain tumour. It seemed that she was in hospital, asking for a daughter that no one else believed she had.

Wesley had hypothesized that the forgetting spell, in making a mother forget something so important, had caused her brain to rebel. The tumour was a physical reaction and was causing moments of lucidity, during which, Joyce remembered her daughter.

Buffy looked at Spike, he nodded.

“Dalton, book Wesley on with me. He’s coming too.”