Chapter 30: Conversations with Dead People
A/N: The chapter really has nothing to do with the episode, but the title seemed fitting…
The teleconference began and Riley unconsciously straightened into a more appropriate posture as his boss’ image appeared on his computer screen.
“Your report, agent Finn.”
“Yes sir. We have secured Hostile 17. The chip will be extracted very shortly so that we can determine why it stopped working. Then with your permission I will terminate him.”
If Riley hadn’t known better, he might have thought there was a smile trying to show on his superior’s face.
“Let’s not act too fast, Finn. We might still need him. I’d like to know more about this… thrall thing. He’s the first we catch that we are sure can do it, let’s not waste that chance. Anything else?”
“No sir. Everything went fine. The Slayer did not intrude on the removal, and we left clues for her to think the vampire is dead.”
And in a few days, Riley would, seemingly by accident, meet her, and with the thrall broken she would certainly be friendlier.
“What about the… spell?” the man on the screen added with a twinge of irritation.
It had been difficult to convince him that it was necessary to cast a spell to protect the location of the base. It had been hard to prove to someone who had never witnessed any magic that anyone could use an incantation and who knew what else to locate their prisoner. Riley knew about some of the things Willow was capable of, and he suspected she could do much more that he didn’t know about.
“The spell was done,” Riley said shortly. “The base is secure.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as you know what caused the chip to stop working.”
“Yes sir.”
*****
Night had passed in a flash, and like any self-respecting vampire, Buffy was returning to her lair after hunting. She was dressed all in black, for black suited her mood. Black leather pants and a black shirt she had borrowed from her Sire. The silk felt nice on her skin, as light as his caresses. And something of his scent clung to the piece of fabric, making her feel safe despite his absence. It was for the same reason that she had slipped on his duster and not her own. Her hands, thrust deep in the pockets, played with a stake on one side and his lighter on the other.
She had been out of the house as soon as the sun had disappeared. The Witches had tried to stop her, but a quick flash of her fangs had changed their minds. She might have had more trouble from them if they had not believed that Spike’s commands still prevented her from hurting anyone, and she had given them no reason to think otherwise. She just should have killed them. The worthless humans had been unable to find Spike for her. If he was still alive, they said, as if they doubted her words, something was hiding his location. Another spell, probably. And they could do nothing about it. This had sent Buffy into a blinding rage. But she had not acted upon it. She had not allowed herself to.
Her Sire had asked her not to kill the Scoobies. She still thought it was a stupid request, and if he had been around she would either have tried to convince him or go past his order. But he wasn’t around. She had this weird feeling that, if she dismissed his wishes so easily, it was like taking advantage of his kidnapping. It was like being on the same side as his enemies. So until she found him again, she had decided to respect his last orders. But at the instant she found him, if whoever had taken him was human, she was going to feast.
She had walked around the town all night, killing a few vamps and demons after they proved unable to tell her anything about Spike. Potential meals, she had forced herself to ignore. All she was focused on were her senses, and particularly that little tingle that always told her when her Sire and Mate was close by. But nothing. She was aware she really shouldn’t have hoped so much, for her chances of accidentally coming close to wherever Spike was being kept were slim. For all she knew, he wasn’t even in Sunnydale anymore. And still, she hoped. Because if she allowed herself to wonder if she’d ever see him again, she knew despair would engulf her. She was too close from it already, pushing it back with sheer willpower.
The sky was starting to turn pink just as she reached Revello Drive. With sunrise being so close, she realized that for the first time in three years she and Spike hadn’t spent the night together, and her spirit sank a little more. Even when they argued, they always made up before morning, always ended up sleeping together. But the night was over, and still no trace of him. She felt like howling to the menacing sun, begging for it to grant her a few more hours to find him. But she wasn’t yet maddened enough to forget that staying outside a few more minutes would put a permanent end to her search.
As she opened the door and stepped inside the deserted house, she glanced back to the shadow that had followed her all night long. She had heard the girl argue briefly with the Witches as she left the house earlier, and had soon been aware that the kid was stalking her. She had pretended not too notice, too wrapped up in her search of Spike to even care what the baby Slayer’s intentions were. The night had been long and restless, but the kid had not wavered, staying at the same distance behind Buffy, following without a word, without trying to hide, but without trying to catch up either. Now that Buffy had made eye contact, Manon came closer, holding her jacket tightly closed around her. She must have been cold, early morning was always a bit fresh.
“He is really OK, right?” she asked quietly. “You didn’t just say that because you want him to be OK, did you?”
Buffy was tempted to snap at the girl, no one had the right to worry about her Mate except her. But she was surprised to hear her voice answer evenly.
“If he was dead, really dead, I would know it.”
Manon nodded imperceptibly, and turned around, starting to walk away. Buffy watched her for a second before calling out for her.
“Hey, kid.”
She was the Slayer. She was Buffy’s natural enemy and prey. But she was also someone who truly cared about Spike. She was just someone. And right now, Buffy would rather have been with anyone, even an enemy, than alone in the big empty house.
“Want some hot chocolate to warm yourself?” she proposed nonchalantly.
The kid tilted her head, as if trying to see if something was hidden behind the offer, and the vampire almost closed the door on her, already regretting her suggestion. But Manon was faster.
“Chocolate sounds good,” she agreed, coming back toward Buffy and following her inside.
“I’m pretty sure I can find some marshmallows too,” Buffy muttered as she led the way to the kitchen.
“Like he likes,” Manon whispered.
They both stopped by the kitchen’s entrance. The Witches had cleaned the blood mess off the floor, and it was easy to imagine that nothing had happened here.
“Yeah. Just like he likes.”
Buffy could feel her eyes filling with unwanted tears, and she stomped inside the room angrily, pulling milk out of the fridge with moves so jerky that she spilled some. Her back to the kid, she began warming the milk and melting chocolate in it, blinking repeatedly to get rid of the extra moisture in her eyes. Her demon was enraged at displaying such emotions in front of the Slayer, and yet she couldn’t stifle them. Even if her Sire had been refusing to let her kill, she hadn’t envisioned one single second living without him. Now that he was gone, maybe she should have felt free, but all she felt was cold, and incredibly alone.
“Buffy…”
The quiet voice brought her back to where she was, what she was doing, and she turned down the fire under her chocolate before it began to boil over.
“What?” she said harshly, glad that her pain didn’t pierce through her voice.
“You’ll find him, won’t you?”
Irritated, she turned to the kid, ready to give her a sound tongue-lashing. But she froze at the almost spilling tears she saw in Manon’s eyes. The same tears that she herself had almost shed. The same pain. The same fear.
“I will find him,” she claimed forcefully. “And whoever took him will die.”
She thought she saw the kid give an imperceptible nod.
*****
Waking up was a surprise to Spike, especially since the last thing he remembered was Iowa standing over him with a stake. What wasn’t a big surprise however was that he was tied to a wall with chains, arms and legs spread too much for him to get any good leverage. No surprise either that he was in a cell. Still no surprise to find his captor in front of him, looking utterly composed.
“Finally coming back to us, Hostile 17?”
“I have a name, wanker,” he shot back.
“Monsters do not have names,” Riley replied coolly.
Ignoring him, Spike tried to get a grip on his chains, to see if he could pull himself free, but the angle was too wide.
“You know,” Riley said idly, “right now some people should be examining your brain very close. You should be glad you’re just tied to a wall instead.”
Spike snorted. “Just wait ‘til I’m free,” he said very low, “and I’ll show you exactly how glad I am”.
“Of course,” Riley continued, ignoring the threat, “it would be useless to search your brain for what is not there any more, wouldn’t it? Be glad also my surgeon took an x-ray of your head before opening.”
The vampire didn’t comment, and feigned not to pay attention to the discourse, though he was listening, and trying to understand what was going on. Why wasn’t he ashes already?
“Where is the chip, Spike?” Riley asked as he came closer to him. “Who took it out for you? How? When?”
A smirk was the only answer the human received.
“Fine. I’ll just beat the answers out of you. Not a problem. My pleasure, really.”
With that, the first blow was delivered to Spike’s jaw, sending his head to bang in the wall behind him.
“I pity you, y’know,” he said with a grin, spitting out some blood. “When Buffy finds us, she’s going to be really cranky, and you’ll be begging for me to let her kill you.”
Riley shook his head, and it was his turn to smile.
“She won’t find us. She won’t even look. She thinks you’re dead. And now that you’re not close to keep her under your thrall, she’ll have much more interesting things to do than think about you anyway.”
Eyeing the boy incredulously, Spike started laughing out loud. Buffy wouldn’t look for her Mate? Buffy would think he was dead? And what thrall? It would have been very satisfying to enlighten the idiot. But Spike couldn’t do that, couldn’t risk revealing how exactly Buffy would know he was still among the unliving. Soon, she would come to him. She was probably on her way already. And when she did come, Spike would be very glad to let her kill the wanker. He would even help her.
More blows came, and still the same questions, but Spike didn’t care. His Childe would come for him, and soon they would leave this cursed town forever. Soon.