Chapter 21


“Wait, here’s something.” The scoobies had been searching for hours and Willow’s eyes were heavy with the words on the page blurring as her eyes watered against the wide yawn that spilt her face. “It says something about a binding ceremony. Used for centuries. Contains blood rites and chanting and both parties present to do an incantation…Oh here we go, the ritual is used as a means of connecting two beings in mind and soul, like the prophecy said.”

Giles stretched his hand out across the table for the book and Willow happily handed it to him, eager to let her eyes rest on something other than the tiny print of the tomes.

“Well done,” Giles said as his eyes skimmed over the text at such a rapid speed that that a less practiced man would have had more than enough trouble keeping up.

Willow yawned and looked around. She was the only one left still awake. Xander and Cordy were both stretched out on the floor, their heads buried in the respective books fast asleep. Oz had fallen asleep in the chair next to her, half way through a book that she was certain was more about tribal mating rituals that any binding ceremonies and even Joyce had nodded off, delicately snoring from her spot on the couch next to Giles.

They seemed to come awake through some unspoken agreement though, the moment Giles’ exclamation left his lips.

“Oh, dear lord!” The others stirred and sat up rubbing their still sleep deprived eyes.

“I really hate it when he says that,” Xander noted, discreetly trying to wipe away the small puddle of drool that had dribbled from his mouth onto the book his head had been resting on.

“This is indeed the ritual we have been looking for,” Giles said slowly, his eyes never leaving the book in front of him.

“Well that’s good news, isn’t it?” Joyce asked cautiously.

Xander’s “there’s a but, am I right G-man?” caused a flicker of annoyance to pass across the Watcher’s face, but he did not call the boy on it.

“It turns out that the ritual required to bind the two beings together—.” Giles began before being cut off by an impatient huff from Joyce.

“Will you just spit it out already?” Joyce snapped. She was sitting on the edge of her seat with worry and the Watcher’s affinity for making things overly dramatic and drawn out wasn’t helping her nerves in the least.

“It’s a hand fasting ritual.” Two shocked gasps from Willow and Joyce reverberated throughout the room amongst the sea of blank faces.

“What? What’s a hand fasting ritual?” Xander questioned, with no small measure of panic.

“The equivalent of marriage, only it’s done through magic. And there is no divorce. It binds two souls together even after one or both has passed on,” Willow explained quietly.

“Yes, that is the basics behind a hand fasting ritual. However, the effects can be far more profound than any simple merging of the mind and soul. Each case is different so it can be difficult to document. However, if this is to occur, Buffy would be irrevocably branded on the inside of her left wrist—marking her as a married woman to all who knew what it meant—and she would be forever bound to that person. And likely able to experience their feelings and emotions.” The room was silent at the end of his announcement.

“And you think that if it is the Council that has her, that is what they plan to do?”

“I couldn’t say. If this ritual is indeed the reason that they have come after her and they don’t just plan on terminating her as a possible threat, then it is likely that they are planning to use her for some greater purpose,” Giles’ voice was solemn as he placed the book on the table.

“So in other word you are telling me that these filthy bastards are either planning on killing my baby or prostituting her out in some way to benefit their ‘mission’?” Giles didn’t answer, though he suspected that an answer hadn’t been expected and that the question had been rhetorical, with Joyce just venting her frustration. “My little girl is only seventeen years old! That’s far too young to get married!”

“Actually Joyce, the marriage is inevitable and needed to help stabilize her powers. Whether done through the council or through us, Buffy will have to undertake in a hand fasting ceremony in the near future. The most we can do to help is make sure that it involves someone with whom she is comfortable rather than some Council lackey.” Giles’ calm tone belied the inner turmoil he was experiencing. Despite her initial outburst, Joyce was taking the news fairly well.

“Oh, and who exactly do you propose she binds herself to for eternity? You do realize that it is going to have to be someone in this house, since we are the only ones who know just what she is and can still be trusted.” A beat of silence rang throughout the room as the occupants contemplated what Joyce’s words meant for them all. Joyce was right; it would have to be someone in the room. Who else was there that Buffy would feel even remotely comfortable binding herself to for eternity?

“We, ah…I guess if we somehow managed to, um… restore Angel’s soul? I mean, surely Buffy wouldn’t object to marrying Angel?” Willow offered timidly after a lengthy pause.

Cordy let out an indelicate snort. “Yeah, right! Were you like not around when Buffy first came back or when she was yelling at Spike last night loud enough for the whole world to hear? The last thing she is going to want is to bind herself to some mental homicidal manic who tortured her for three days straight.”

“Not only that, but it would be foolish to give someone like Angel that much power, especially if he ever lost his soul again,” Giles said quietly.

“I was just saying, I mean it’s not like we have a lot of options here, do we? Xander, Giles, and Oz are the only three that fit the mould,” Willow retorted, with more than a little defensiveness in her voice.

“Actually, we’re not,” was Xander’s reply. He hated himself for even thinking it, let alone bringing it up. A shared look with Oz told him the wolf had been thinking the same thing.

He looked around the expectant faces of his friends and family and took a deep breath “There’s still Spike.”




***



Spike shifted and slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was day time and the sun was high in the sky. He’d likely been unconscious for more than a few hours.

Buffy.

His body protested violently as he moved to sit up, the screaming pain that had previously gone unnoticed now making itself more than apparent. He let out a small groan and blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to his surroundings.

He’d obviously been fed blood. He was going to need a lot more though, and soon, if he was going to be able to stand long enough to get Buffy back.

“I don’t trust you.” Spike’s head whipped around, and his eyes landed on the Watcher, surprised that he hadn’t noticed his presence until he had spoken. “I don’t trust that you had nothing to do with orchestrating all of this—all of what’s been done to Buffy—but right now you are all we have to go on in so far as at getting her back, perhaps even saving her life. So I’m going to trust your sense of survival. You’re weak, and I have no problems believing it would take little effort and skill on my part to ram this stake through your chest.”

Spike quirked an inquiring eyebrow at the piece of wood in Giles’ hands, wondering what had brought on this change in the Watcher’s disposition towards him. He could hardly believe this to be the same man that he had a clear memory of coming to his rescue only a few hours earlier.

Despite that however, he found himself nodding his head slowly.

“I want to know who took Buffy this afternoon,” Giles asked with a flinty note in his voice that had the vampire looking on him with a new kind of respect.

“Was the soddin’ Slayer’s father, and he had a few of the Wankers Council lackeys with him. I didn’t hear him coming till it was too late and he’d hit me with some kind of spell that had me suspended in the air and unable to move.” Spike saw the question forming on the Watcher’s lips before he had even finished speaking and went on to answer it. “The Slayer was in your office at the time. She came out, he sent her a few threats to make her go quietly, knocked her out magically and went all stake happy on me.”

“You’re telling me that she didn’t even put up a fight? Buffy didn’t even put up a fight?” Giles’ tone was disbelieving enough to put Spike even more on the defensive than even the accusations Giles had made earlier.

“S’right. He told her that if she came quietly, none of you would be hurt. Pulled the ‘daddy’ routine on her and she did just that—went quietly.” Spike reached for his cigarettes and agitatedly pulled one out before lighting it up and letting the soothing effect of nicotine work through his body.

“And Hank was the one that took her?” Giles’ question was posed in an equally agitated voice coloured with disbelief. “Joyce’s ex-husband is not only a bloody warlock but is also working for the Council now?”

“S’right.” Spike saw the Watcher’s disbelieving look, and his temper flared. “If you don’t bloody well believe me then that’s your problem. I told you what happened, and if you really think I would go so far as to bloody well cook up a scheme that includes getting myself nailed to the freakin’ wall, then you’re out of your bloody gourd.”

They both stared at each other as they sized up what was being said and how far the other was willing to go to prove their point. So far everything the vampire had said and done had proven to be trustworthy, but he was a definite black area when it came to slayers. Giles was not willing to risk Buffy’s life just because Spike had thus far proven to be up front with information.

“Are you able to track her to where she is being held?” Giles question was not a declaration of trust or even proof that he was backing down. Spike’s heightened senses could be a much needed asset, and as long as he was useful, he would avoid meeting a dusty ending on the sharp end of a stake.

“I should be able to track her scent. If not the mark of domination she gave me,” Spike gave Giles’ smug look a pointed sneer, “should allow me to feel her enough to track her to wherever she is being held.”

“Good, we need to get her back before nightfall this Friday. That gives you two days—or nights rather—to locate her. The rest of our time needs to be spent deciding just how we are going to get her out.” The vampire quirked and eyebrow in the Watcher’s direction.

“This Friday night’s a full moon. Guess that means you found whatever ritual needs to be done to keep her dainty slayer brains from decorating the living room walls?” Giles gave Spike a disgusted look, and the vampire winced internally at his own callous remark. The last thing he needed at the moment though was the Watcher knowing Spike was having naughty thoughts about the girl Giles considered to be like his own daughter. Spike had the feeling the he was only just out of the staking zone as it was.

“The ritual is none of your concern. The only capacity in which you will be needed is making sure that the Council doesn’t get to us before the ritual is completed.” Spike felt his demon snarl at the thought of Buffy being bound to someone else in any form, but he bit back his retort and nodded placidly.

Giles nodded tightly and stood up, walking stiffly to the stairs.

Just before the Watcher slipped through the door, Spike asked, “And what of Angelus? He’s not just going to disappear while you have it out with the Council. That’s why I agreed to join your merry band of do-gooders in the first place, you know.”

“We have bigger problems than Angelus and his pointless teasing. Once the Council is no longer a threat to Buffy in the capacity that they are at the moment, then we will look to disposing of Angelus and your sire.” Giles’ response was punctuated by him shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving Spike no opportunity to reply. Surprisingly though, Spike had nothing to say.




Chapter 22


The eerie silence that filled the car was almost deafening it was so palpable. As time wore on, Xander began to wish that he had never opened his mouth about Buffy and Spike beginning to feel something for one another. Giles' reaction had certainly been less than desirable.

In fact the more Xander thought about it, the more he began to realise how stupid the suggestion was. Giving a souled Angel that kind of power was one thing; if he ever lost his soul again it would practically be suicide for the rest of them. While he had been playing for the good side as of late, Spike had made it more than clear that his priorities still lay with his insane sire, despite what feelings were developing between him and Buffy. So, even contemplating giving a currently soulless demon—a soulless Spike—that kind of power was absolutely out of the question.

The adamant refusal that Spike be the one that Buffy should be bound to had left them with little else from which to choose. They had discussed the ritual in great detail together and while a normal hand fasting ritual took no more than the words of the ritual to be spoken while the subjects' hands were bound together symbolically, this one was infinitely more adult rated.

Joyce had been horrified as the details of what exactly was involved were described to her. They all had been a bit shocked at some point, but overall, the took it well. Willow's innocence was the most affected. It was one thing to suspect something, but it only ever became truth when it was voiced.

The selection of acceptable partner choices was whiddled from three down to two and then almost immediately from two down to one. Down to him to be more specific. Giles was simply out of the question and with Oz being a werewolf they couldn't be sure of the side effects it might have on either of them. Xander was disgusted with himself for the nearly crippling bolt of joy and excitement that ran through him initially. Now all he felt was sick.

The reactions as everyone had realised that he was the only real choice they had was varied. Joyce had looked upset but reassured somewhat by the fact that it would be someone her daughter was close to and knew well. Giles looked grim, Willow was shocked beyond the capabilities of speech, Oz wore his usual stoic mask and Cordy…Cordy had burst into tears in a moment so out of character that he hadn't known what to do. The sick feeling he had felt in his gut intensified with her reaction.

Now, with Spike driving, Giles in the front passenger’s seat, and Xander and Cordelia sitting in the back, they were all acutely aware of the uncomfortably tense silence as they waited for some reaction from Spike, telling them whether they were close to Buffy or if he could pick up her scent. Xander glanced across the back seat to his girlfriend who had insisted on coming along, and felt a rush of emotions flood him. He was going to lose her…


***


Buffy blinked groggily as she rolled herself over to look out into the room that had been her only source of entertainment for what felt like days. There was something wrong with her—that much she could decipher. Her limbs felt tired and heavy like she was moving through syrup and her head held a fogginess to it that she couldn't seem to push past no matter how much she tried. Yes there was definitely something wrong…she just didn't know what it was.

Here gaze moved slowly to look at the bed in the corner of the room to see the young Watcher staring at her with sad brown eyes. He hadn't been able to even bring himself to set his gaze upon her the day before; now he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

Buffy turned her gaze away from him as he averted his eyes and they sluggishly came to focus on the centre of the room.

Someone had roped a dead lamb to the centre of the ceiling so it hung down into the middle of the room. A trail of its blood measuring roughly two meters wide stained the carpet to make a dark maroon circle. The smell the dried blood gave off was thick and pungent and even when Buffy forced herself not to go through the mechanics of breathing—something she really no longer needed to do—the smell still seemed to assault her senses.

This can’t be of the good, she though as her heavy eyelids drifted shut again.


***


“Did you say the ritual required the blood of a lamb?” Spike asked, suddenly pulling the car to a stop outside an apartment complex.

Giles gave him a peculiar look. “Yes, the sacrifice of an innocent animal is made to mark a ring of blood around the floor of the sacred place chosen for the ritual to be carried out. It is believed—.”

Spike rolled his eyes and cut Giles’ babbling short. “A simple ‘yes’ would have done it, mate,” he nodded towards the building they had parked in front of. “I can’t feel or sense her nearby but a shit load of sheep's blood has been spilled in there recently.” he paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side inquiringly. “Also seems our mate Angelus is close by as well.”

The two teens in the back seat tensed to alertness.

“We’ll come back in the daylight hours to further investigate then,” Giles replied, peering calmly into the shadows “Take us home.”

Spike nodded and swung the car around as he drove off again.


***


Angelus watched the proceedings from the shadows.

Originally, he had been intrigued by the overwhelming smell of animal blood coming from one of the apartments. The only time you smelt that much blood was around butchers and ritual sacrifices. Considering he was currently residing in Sunnydale, he was going to go with the latter. The question was who was attempting the mojo, and what ritual were they trying to carry out?

His mild interest had practically skyrocketed the moment he had sensed the approaching presence of his grandchilde and the car load of white hatters.

Angelus watched they pulled up and the proceeded to sit there for a few minutes as they obviously discussed their options. He cursed his bad fortune at his distance from the car. He was close enough to hear the murmur of their voices, but too far to make out what they were saying. But in this instance, their presence at all was enough to let him know that this was something important enough to warrant their leaving the safety of their house at night.

Since he had lost his soul, they never went anywhere alone, and they never left the house after dark unless absolutely necessary. It was quite the evil ego boost that they took such precautions because of him.

The only thing that stumped him in this scenario was the lack of the Slayer’s presence. She wasn’t one to sit back and let the others do her work for her, yet she was most definitely not part of the group that was out on the little reconnaissance mission.

Angelus watched as the car did a u-turn before driving off into the night again. They had most likely sensed his presence, he mused silently. His interest was more than piqued, and his curious nature refused to let him drop it. He gave one last look at the building committing its location to memory before setting off in the direction the car had driven. A direction he knew well. He was going to pay a little visit to Revello Drive.


***


A knock sounded at the door. “Sir?”

“You may enter.” Travers and Hank looked up from their papers as the door to the study opened and a young field agent walked in to stand stiffly before them. “What is it?”

“The Slayer’s friends, sir, and Rupert Giles were just sighted outside the block of apartments. They had the vampire with them.” Travers frowned and looked down at the papers before him.

“Seems they caught on quicker than expected,” he half muttered to himself.

“I told you that the sacrifice would only attract attention when done before the actual ritual itself.” Travers shot Hank a dark look at the patronising tone that rang through his voice. “You know I’m right. The vampire could probably smell all that blood a mile off, and if they have any insight to the hand fasting at all, then they’ll know that we’re here.”

Travers ignored him.

“How long were they here?” he asked instead. The young man startled slightly at being addressed again.

“Not longer that a few moments. A minute, maybe two at most, before they drove off again. No one exited the car,” he answered in what he hoped was a strong voice. The Head Watcher nodded again before dismissing the man.

“You’re absolutely sure that this ritual can be completed on the night before and after the full moon?” Travers queried the Slayer’s father once he was sure the boy was gone.

A twisted grin spread over Hank’s face. “Positive. In fact, many believe that it is better for the ritual to be carried out on the night before rather than on the actual night of the full moon.”

“Good, good then. And you are sure the drugs you are feeding her are taking effect?” He couldn’t help but feel nervous now that everything he had dreamt of for so long was almost at hand. He didn’t have time for slip ups and visits from the Slayer’s sidekicks. The ritual needed to be completed before they came barging in to save her or all else could be shot to hell.

“Better than I could have hoped for,” Hank replied doing little to mask the eager excitement from his voice.

“Tomorrow then,” Travers made his mind up and turned to face his desk where a tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch sat untouched. “As soon as night falls.”

Hank smiled as he accepted his glass and nodded. He raised it in a small salute before taking a hearty swig. “Tomorrow at nightfall.”


***


Giles wasn’t surprised to hear the knock on the door later that night. Other than Spike—who was presumably sitting on his cot down in the basement—he was the only one awake. He had been sitting up for hours pouring over anything he could find in books and everything Willow had found on the internet about the apartments they had been to earlier that night.

So far he had come across very little that could come of any use and he had felt his mind begin to drift to their other current problem of Angelus and his lack of soul.

Giles had no doubt whatsoever that terminating Angelus was their only option after what he had done to Buffy. He had absolutely no problems entertaining the thought of Angelus meeting a dusty end, and had, in fact, been expecting Angelus to be lurking around the exterior of the house after Spike had sensed him nearby when they had been out and about earlier that evening.

No, what bothered him was the notion that Angelus may somehow be involved in what the Council planned to do with Buffy. They were in no doubt that the Council was holding her, and presumably still had her alive. What he didn’t get was why Angelus had been lurking around. It had to be too much of a coincidence that he was felt at the one place they suspected Buffy was being held.

Picking up the crossbow on his way to the door, he opened it carefully to keep his weapon concealed from view.

“Angelus, how terribly predictable,” Giles remarked as the dark features of the vampire he had once considered an almost friend came into view. Now there was nothing he desired more than to see him meet a dusty ending.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Rupes?” his smile was a mocking leer that held his sarcastic laugh in the corners of his mouth.

“No, actually I’m not. And if you are here to make taunting idle threats then do you think we might be able to arrange a time when I have less important matters than you to worry about, because I am more than a little busy?” Angelus released a sneering snarl.

In a move that was done more for Buffy’s sake than any act of defiance, Giles rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, I’m scared. Now if you’ll excuse me?” Angelus let out a howl of fury at the brush off and made to lunge forward, forgetting about the barrier that now barred him from a house to which he had previously had an all access pass. How dare Giles act so blasé in his presence? These people were meant to fear him above all else, not taunt him.

Giles reacted instinctively to the potential threat raising the concealed crossbow and firing a bolt before the vampire had time to react.

He watched with a calm indifference as it sailed through the short distance between them and imbedded itself firmly into the vampire’s chest with a dull ‘thud’.

Angelus let out a shocked squeak as he looked down at where the wooden bolt protruded from his heart.

“No!” he managed to gasp out before his body started the rapid decay into dust for an anticlimactic finish, until nothing more was left than the neat pile of his ashes left on the door step.

Giles shut the door softly, replaced the crossbow from where he had retrieved it, and returned to where he had been sitting.

“I was hoping he would do something like that.”




Chapter 23


“We need some sort of diversion to buy us some time to get in relatively unnoticed,” Oz stated as they all looked at the blueprints Willow had managed to acquire from the internet that were now splayed out across the Joyce’s dining room table. “If we enter through this entrance, we could back my van practically right up to the door. That would allow Spike to be able to get in without worrying about any sunlight.”

“What type of diversion is going to work? Anything that we do would be a dead giveaway, as they know each of us—including Spike, who we need to help locate Buffy once we’re inside,” Xander frowned and worried his bottom lip pensively. “I guess I could rig an explosive up somewhere outside of the building and set it on a timer.”

Joyce’s eyes went incredibly wide. “Y-you know how to do that?”

“Long story. The short version is we all got turned into our costumes last Halloween. I dressed up as a soldier so I turned into a soldier. When the spell wore off the knowledge kind of stayed,” he explained quickly.

“Oh,” Joyce nodded her head absently. What else was she meant to say to that? Her daughter’s life was far too complicated. To think that all of this time, Joyce thought Buffy had been a trouble maker. Joyce didn’t know how Buffy was able to keep up with her slaying duties and still be able to find time to sleep and study—not that she truly believed her daughter did much of the latter.

“I’m afraid that any kind of diversion like that will be seen for what it is. We need something more subtle, something that won’t be immediately connected with us,” Giles said, ignoring the slight digression the conversation had taken.

“What about an insane, bloodthirsty, enraged and vengeful vampire?” All head turned to look at Spike who, unlike the others, wasn’t crowded around the map, but splayed out on the couch behind them all.

“So you’re volunteering then?” Xander sneered.

“No, I was referring to Drusilla. You’d know what I mean, right Watcher?” The bitter tone in his voice came through cold and flinty but the challenge was undeniable as he nodded in Giles’ direction.

All heads swivelled to stare at the Watcher in question.

“Indeed,” was Giles’ only response.

“What does he mean?” Willow asked curiously.

“Seems we had another little visit from Angelus last night and Rupes here decided that he would play judge, jury and executioner and dust him. That about it, mate?” The glare Giles tossed Spike’s way would have seriously frightened a lesser man. After over a century of murder, mayhem and violence, a simple glare did little to rattle Spike’s nerves.

“You dusted him?” The redhead asked incredulously. “But we hadn’t decided if that was what we were going to do! What gave you the right to end his life like that?”

“That’s what I want to know, Red,” Spike added with a smirk as he watched the normally quiet and nervous redhead slowly start to boil with anger.

“I did what I believed was the right thing to do. I am a Watcher and in this instance I believe my judgment to be the better call. He was a hazard to our attempts at getting Buffy back, to our lives, and to the countless innocents we have already allowed him to murder since he became soulless,” Giles shot back angrily with more than a little authority in his voice.

Spike’s smug smile dropped as he watched Willow back down again and rolled his eyes. Did all these people cower away the moment a little authority was asserted?

“If that’s true then why are you still here?” Xander shot in Spike’s direction. “Would have thought you’d be off crawling on your knees at your insane ho-bag sire’s feet.”

“This became more than just about Angelus a long time ago, mate, and you know it,” Spike’s retort was spoken in a calm and level voice that did more to get his point across that if he had yelled at them angrily.

“Enough!” Joyce’s interjection was enough to silence them. “I have no idea how any of you get any work done the way you bicker with each other! Can we get back to the task at hand please? You know, saving Buffy?” They all looked away guiltily under her reprimanding gaze. “Spike, you were saying?”

“What? Oh, right. Well, I’m assuming that Dru doesn’t know that it was the Watcher here who offed her ‘daddy dearest’ yet. So, why not tweak the story a little and send her straight into the nest thinking that it was the Council? That will keep them busy for hours,” he couldn’t help the small chuckle as he finished that thought. He could remember vividly what it had been like a few years ago when they had felt the death of Darla through their family ties; what mayhem she had caused then. It had gone on for days. Of course, in the end they had been chased out of the city by an angry mob that had almost seen the death of his sire.

What Drusilla felt for Angelus was infinitely stronger; Spike sincerely doubted that anyone in that building would be left alive. Though he doubted she would make it out either…and the idea of that happening didn’t bother him the way he thought it should.

“Well yes, that would certainly work,” Giles agreed reluctantly.

“Yeah, and it would also be signing the death warrants of every man and woman in that place,” Cordy spoke up for the first time. “Let’s face it, I don’t want that over my head and I doubt Buffy would either.”

“So what do we do then?”


***


“That’s it then?” Xander asked as he sunk back into his seat as the last details of the plan were ironed out.

“That’s it. I can’t think of anything else that might be a problem as long as you and Willow have no obstacles then we should be fine,” Giles said as he tossed the pen with which he had been writing onto the table and let his head fall against that back of his seat.

He removed his glasses and ran over-worked fingers over his eyes to help ease their tiredness that was making his eyesight blur. This whole plan hinged on Willow and Xander being able to get their jobs done so that the personnel Hank and Travers had would be adequately distracted when they went in.

“We should do it tonight. The longer we wait, the more likely we are to run into problems, and we won’t have enough time to fix them and get the ritual done as well,” Joyce’s remarks broke the silence that had settled over the group.

“T-tonight?” Willow’s nerves made her voice shake, causing her to stutter. She wasn’t used to being the key player. She didn’t like knowing that their success all depended on her—that whether Buffy knew it or not, she was counting on Willow to get her out.

Joyce nodded her head eagerly. “The sooner we get her away from them the more smoothly things should run. We have to allow time for error.”

Willow nodded her head nervously in understanding. “O-oh, okay then.”

Giles sat upright, and again began polishing his glasses on the edge of his shirt. “Joyce is right, this can only work once. If we mess it up we won’t have another chance at getting Buffy out again before the ritual has begun,” his voice was solemn but firm with determination. “That leaves us with a little over four hours to prepare anything that we will need. Does anyone have any questions?”

The room was silent as each of the occupants looked around at each other, waiting for someone to speak up with a reason why this was a bad idea. No one raised their voice to answer though. The plan that had taken nearly all day to devise would be carried out.

“Alright then, Joyce. You’re up first…”




Chapter 24


Joyce was anxious. She sat waiting in the food court at the mall for Spike to show up again, knowing that while she was the one that had pushed for them to go ahead and carry out the plan that night, she herself felt nowhere near ready.

Her fingers drummed incessantly against the sticky counter top of the table at which she was sitting. The untouched plate of food that she had bought for lunch had been pushed into the centre of the table to slowly turn cold. This is for Buffy. You can do it for your baby girl.

She tried to ignore the way her stomach rolled in nerves, the way her hands grew cold and clammy and her eyes couldn’t settle on one object for too long. Stop it. You are a grown woman and have done nothing wrong. Spike is the one stealing the phone.

Joyce suppressed the small nervous and slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to bubble from her lips and wiped her hands over her face in an effort to calm herself before her eyes once more went back to surveying her surroundings.

The flash of white-blonde hair caught her eye in the distance as the crowd parted and she felt warm prickles break out over her skin.

Swallowing deeply, Joyce watched as Spike strode confidently towards her, his posture casual and relaxed as if this were the sort of thing he did on a daily basis. That’s probably because he practically does. He’s been doing stuff like this for over a century. Whatever the reason, he didn’t look like someone who had just stolen a phone.

For a brief almost fleeting moment she had the wonderful though that maybe he hadn’t done it and that they would have to make do with using one of their own phones, despite the fact that they knew the Council had them bugged and would be on to their whole set up faster than ants on a cupcake. That thought was quickly discarded as Spike smiled and sat down opposite her.

“’lo Joyce.” She managed a nervous smile but couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. He smiled gently at her. “Relax ducks, it’s all fine. Nothing went wrong and the lass probably won’t realise her phone’s gone until she gets home anyway.”

Joyce watched uncomfortably as he casually picked up the fork and began eating her untouched lunch. She was itching to get out of the store and away from the crime to which she felt she was an accomplice.

“I can’t see why we can’t just use a payphone,” she finally blurted out as her nerves finally got the better of her, knowing the answer to that already. The call needed to be made from the general area and any of the phones and surrounding payphones were being monitored by the Council.

Spike smiled at her and pushed himself up from the table, leaving the now empty plate and fork to remain on the table. Joyce sighed at his understanding look and stood up, picking up her bag as she went.

“For Buffy,” she said softly to herself as she tried to walk out of the food court without looking too guilty as they passed mall security.

“For Buffy,” Spike agreed.




***



Xander sat crouched in the bushes, ten feet away from the apartment complex that held Buffy, waiting for the hands on his watch to tick over to the hour. Ten more minutes to go. Ten minutes until their plan was put into action. Fifteen minutes until Joyce made the call to the local authorities.

Xander reached up and fingered the pendant that sat around his neck. It was simple enough—a rune carved into a small rock that had been smoothed and shaped so it was a flat, circular disc. It had been secured around his neck by a thin leather strap.

A small nick had been made on his index finger and his blood rubbed into the carving while Giles had muttered some ancient words of another language under his breath. For a few seconds afterwards, it had glowed brilliantly before fading once again and leaving the pendant warm.

So long as it stayed warm and wasn’t removed from his neck, he would be protected against being detected by any security measures the building would have and from the prying eyes of neighbours that might report him to the local police.

He looked down at his watch again. Seven minutes to go. Picking up the canisters of fuel from beside him, he crept out from the bushes slowly.

A quick locator spell had been performed over a map of the complex to ascertain whether Buffy was indeed in there and exactly where she was being held, as well as to see what parts of the building weren’t being used. This section of the building was deserted and therefore their target spot for the decoy that would get them into the building while remaining free of human casualties.

Xander crept up to the side of the building and peered in one of the lower windows. “All clear,” he muttered to himself as he drew back his elbow and sent it careening into the glass. He cursed silently when it impacted but didn’t shatter.

He paused and waited to see if anyone had heard the thump before drawing his arm back and hitting it again. He startled at the amount of noise it made as it shattered and he stopped again as he waited to see if anyone inside had noticed.

He checked his watch again. Five minutes till the hour.

Taking a deep breath he punched out the rest of the shards of glass that had remained stuck in the frame. Reaching down beside him, he picked up one of the fuel canisters and let it drop inside before pulling himself in as well.

The room he had entered was small and clearly a bedroom though it showed no signs of being lived in. Xander let out a sign of relief and quickly crossed to shut the door before running a small amount of the fuel down its wood and onto the carpet in front of it.

Looking around quickly he spied the bed cover and pulled it off spreading it across the floor and dousing it with the petrol. He did the same with the sheets on the bed, leaving one to hang out the window slightly before he emptied the rest of the canister into the room and climbed out the window again.

The second canister was sitting on the ground where he had left it and he made quick work of drenching the outside of the building with its contents.

One minute to go.

He walked back over to the bushes and pulled out the flame thrower he had stolen only a few hours before from the only army base they had in Sunnydale. He donned the pack and took a deep breath before glancing down at his watch one last time.

Six o’clock, half an hour till sunset.

Taking aim at the fuel drenched building, Xander pulled the trigger and let out a burst of flames.

The fuel ignited immediately with a whoosh that had him stumbling backwards to shield his eyes. He stayed long enough to make sure that it was well lit before quickly taking off down the street at a run after dumping the flame thrower in a previously agreed upon location.

The others, minus Joyce and Willow, were waiting in Joyce’s jeep just a few blocks down the street and Xander closed his eyes in relief as he saw them and gave them the signal that his job had been done. The vehicle pulled out from the curb a few minutes later and drove off in the direction from which he had come, as he set off back for the house on Revello drive.



***



Joyce looked at her watch. She was seated in Giles car a block away from where Buffy was being kept. It was five minutes past six, and Joyce pulled out the stolen mobile phone.

Dialling the emergency number she held the phone to her ear.

“Hello? I need help! I have to report a fire!” she said in a panicked voice that wasn’t entirely faked. “An apartment complex is on fire on the corner of…”



***



Willow sat in front of her computer in the Summers’ living room. The clock which has previously been hanging on the wall had been removed and was presently sitting on the table directly next to her lap top as she nervously waited for her time to come.

Five minutes past six o’clock. Joyce had made the phone call.

Willow chewed her lip nervously as she glanced at her computer. It would take Sunnydale’s finest roughly ten minutes to get to the fire. That left her six minutes until she set off the alarm inside the building.

Of all the people they knew who were inside, it was Travers and Hank that they had to be most wary of. They couldn’t be made aware that anything was amiss until the last minute. If they were to put the fire out magically before the authorities arrived, all hope of rescuing Buffy could be ruined. So Willow sat and waited for the clock to show the time to be eleven minutes past six.

Already, the others would be preparing to enter through the back where the fading sun was in no danger of dusting Spike and their easiest point of entry lay. For once, Willow wished she was there with them instead of sitting alone in a house waiting to set off an alarm that would create bedlam within the complex. It was unnaturally quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock that lay on the desk before her.

Xander will be here soon, she thought as she glanced to the centre of the room where the furniture had been cleared and a circle had been marked out with the blood of a lamb. Xander would be coming home to get married to Buffy. If they can get her out a small part of her mind spoke.

She glanced at the clock again. It was eleven minutes past six. Showtime.

Willow put her hands to the keyboard of her computer and began typing in the commands that would set off the alarms inside the apartment complex.

Her task finished, she sat back in her seat and put her hands over her face just as the front door opened and Xander stepped in. They looked at one another and nodded.

“Everything running smoothly?” he asked in a dull, worried voice.

She nodded.

“Everything is right on time.”



***



Buffy lay sedately on her cot as the door to her cage was opened and she was dragged out from inside. She felt so weak—weak and cold. Her flesh felt like it was covered in goose bumps and her eyelids felt too heavy to even bother opening, so she let whoever had her carry her to wherever she was going.

Her tongue ran across her teeth as she swallowed and she was vaguely surprised to find she was in her demon visage as her tongue was nicked on one of her small fangs. Her own blood pooled in her mouth and she groaned as her stomach protested in hunger.

The trip was short and she soon found herself being lowered onto the ground.

“She looks unwell.” Buffy vaguely heard someone say from above her head. The voice sounded familiar and she fought to open her eyes to see who it was.

“It is just a side effect of what I have been feeding her,” another voice answered. Her father. “Better that she is in this state where she is unable to escape than fighting us every step of the way.”

Her body shuddered in protest as everything suddenly came rushing back to her. Her father and Travers. What they were going to do. NO! her mind shouted, even as her body could find no more strength than to utter a small groan.

“Very well,” Travers spoke before there was a short pause in which nobody spoke, and then “do you smell something burning?”

There was another small pause in which he presumably sniffed the air. “The kitchen staff has probably burnt dinner again,” Hank replied in an off-handed voice. “Go ahead and enter the circle with her. Nobody else needs to be present for this besides the three of us.”

Buffy wanted to cry out in protest about what was about to happen, yet she was powerless to stop it. Why am I so weak? What have they done to me? Tears of fear and frustration welled under her closed eyelids and slid down her face.

She heard her father chuckle till his voice was just above her right ear. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Buffy Travers, daughter?”

Oh god, please help me! she screamed mentally, as she tried once more to open her eyes or move her body from the prone position she was stretched out in along the floor. She managed to crack her eyes open enough to glare at him. Her father chuckled at her and walked around to the other side of the circle.

Oh please! Anything! As if answering her prayers, an alarm suddenly went off in the building and the sprinklers in the ceiling began to let out streams of icy cold water.

Her body jerked in surprised at the temperature change and she listened to her father and Travers complaining and questioning each other angrily.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hank yelled as the water broke out. He could hear the sound of sirens in the distance over the wailing of the alarm. “It’s the fire alarm!”

Travers swore under his breath as he looked across the circle at the prone figure of the girl that would be the catalyst for his growth into the power for which he had been destined. A power he wasn’t about to let slip from his grasp.

He was so close.

“Keep going,” he ground out as he levelled his hard gaze on Buffy’s figure. “It will be put out, get on with it!”

For a second, Hank looked as if he were about to refuse, instead he turned back so he was facing the circle and opened his arms as he began to chant.

Inside Buffy wanted to die. With no strength left within her to defend herself, there was no possible hope of getting out of this situation. She heard the melodic sounds of her father’s voice as he chanted out the ritual and she felt the first pulse of magic wash over her.