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Author's Chapter Notes:
The plot's mine. The characters aren't.
=)
+~+~+~+~+

Now, maybe you won't suffer maybe it's quick
But you'll have time to think
Why did I waste it?
Why didn't I taste it?
You'll have time
Because you're gonna die.

+~+~+~+~+

The bells above the Magic Box door jingled as Spike stepped back into its muted glow. He was certain Buffy was behind him, plying the whelp with excuses and explanations for their absence and rough looks. He was trying very hard not to care.

Bugger. Hurt her with that last bit, no question. Well, so what? She got hers, didn’t she? And I’m not feeling guilty. ‘m not. Evil demon. Not like she hasn’t beaten that lesson home time and again. Can’t be a man. Can’t change. And even if I did, she can’t see it. No soul to pin the promise on, right? Spike tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the counter with studied insolence.

But for a second there, her little lips got so soft. Before I brought her off, and before the bloody whore comment. When she first kissed me, she almost seemed to be there with me. I could barely move with the terror and hope that maybe… No. It’s not about us. Never is. She made that crystal as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Always about what she wants. Numb the pain, take her away. She wants it hard, wants the devil, so let her have him.

Still, Spike couldn’t quite turn to face Buffy as she and Xander entered the shop. Her stride was calm, and he made a concentrated effort to pay no mind to the scent of arousal that lingered on her skin as she neared him by the counter. He stared at the floor, and suddenly a little laminate booklet was thrust under his gaze, pages open to the demon couple he’d tussled with, all decked out in over-bright high school kit.

“Is that them?” Buffy’s voice was in full-out Slayer mode, no trace of their earlier tryst coloring it.

Spike nodded. “Yeah, looks like.” He worked the nerve to dare a glance at her and saw a strange mix of anger, confusion, and shame as her gaze traced upward, over his cut and swollen face.

“Ok,” Buffy breathed, and for the briefest of seconds, their eyes caught and held.

It seemed a century’s breadth of emotions passed between them, but one stood firm, traipsing over the others with a leaden foot in Spike’s mind. I’m no good for her this way.

The instant splintered when Buffy’s clear voice addressed the others. “Looks like the demonic duo is our very own Debbie and Pete.”

“Great,” Anya said. “I’m so glad we’ve established that. That makes everything so very clear. Except for those of us who have absolutely no clue who in the name of Granthar the three of you have been talking about.”

“Point there, pet,” Spike added to Buffy. “What’s the story on these two?”

“Debbie and Pete were… we knew them in high school,” Buffy began. “They were kind of the uber-couple at the time. We all thought they were super-happy. Then one day we realize Pete’s got a Jeckyl-Hyde complex of the massive variety, and he’s taking out the full force of his crazy on love-struck Debbie.”

Willow piped up. “Who, despite some very stern warnings on the dangers of date-related violence, went back to him.”

Buffy’s fingers twitched nervously at her side. “He went damage-bound at the old high school, and I tried to save her, but… I got there too late. He killed her.”

“And the boy?” Spike asked.

“He got killed too.”

“Angel went all primeval on him to protect you, right Buffy?” Willow offered.

Spike’s jaw clenched, and Buffy brushed her hands nervously against her legs. “That part’s really not important right now,” she said quickly. “What we really need to focus on is, how do we find them?”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Xander said. He crossed the room and leaned casually against a corner. “Wouldn’t they go home? I mean, Pete was nuts over her, right? I figure he takes the first chance he gets to go all ‘Me Caveman’ and drags her back to his lair.”

Buffy nodded. “That sounds good. Willow, do you think you could…”

“No,” Willow said, eyes hesitantly rising from the table to the confused looks of the others around the room. “What I mean is, he’s not going to take her to his old house. I don’t think. If we want to find them, we need to start at the beginning. At the Hellmouth.”

Buffy took a step forward. “Will, how do you know?”

Willow’s face pinched as she nervously clasped her hands together and stared down at her shifting fingers. “I’m not sure. I mean, I can’t really know. You know?” Her voice quivered. “It’s just… in the end, Pete lost control. It… it wasn’t about Debbie anymore. It wasn’t really about people at all.” She paused, and her next sentence fell in painfully soft tones from her lips. “Now it’s about the power.”

+++

“It’s all about the power, gentleman,” Warren spoke, heedless that Andrew and Johnathon were no longer near enough to hear him.

“You’re right. It is.”

Pete’s hand gripped Warren’s throat from behind as Debbie helped drag him through the caves back to the center clearing of the old library. Warren’s eyes bulged as he caught sight of Andrew and Johnathon, lying bound and gagged in a corner of the room. As Debbie untangled a length of coarse rope and Pete held him down, Warren bargained.

“Hey, let’s not be hasty here, ok?” His pitch grew higher and he winced as one of the knots cut into his wrist. “I mean, you want things, we want things… I know we can work something out. Just… just hold on a minute.” His volume raised as Debbie tightened a loop around his ankles. “The three of us,” Warren tilted his chin to indicate his incapacitated minions, “We’ve got power to do things. Lots of things. Like magic!” he added with a nervous laugh. “We can help you. We can…” Pete pulled a handkerchief from the floor and brought the grimy, rolled fabric toward Warren’s mouth. “Wait wait wait!” Pete paused. “We can turn you back,” Warren said desperately.

“Tell him.” Pete nudged Debbie with a hard elbow.

“Pete and I’ve been around town. You can learn a lot from one day in Sunnydale,” Debbie said with a slow smile. “At least, when you kill enough things. And we decided we don’t want to be turned back.”

“Fine, fine,” Warren uttered. “Whatever you want. You just let me know, and we’ll do it.”

“That,” Debbie said, pointing toward the center of the room.

“The Hellmouth?” Warren squeaked as he followed her finger to the blackened library floor. “What about it?”

Pete leaned over, his whisper a cold black snake in Warren’s ear. “I want you to open it.”





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