man in motion
by SoulVamp
Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18
She awoke to a brutal slap across her face, the familiar distorted features hovering above her. "You're all pathetically drowsy. Hope I didn't drain you too much, luv," he said with a smirk.
"I'm not your love," she told him.
He laughed. "Oh, right, you're all head over for the poncy bugger kept me all repressed. Stupid git."
Buffy set her jaw rigidly. "He was a good man," she said defiantly.
"Please," he said, punctuating his disdain with another slap. "That right bastard is nothin' but a waste of flesh."
Buffy struggled to sit up, but he was on her in an instant, pinning her arms to the bed with his knees. Her eyes narrowed. "You mean he was... don't you?" she asked suspiciously.
His breath on her neck reeked of blood and something else... something foul and dark. "No, he is, precious. You weren't entirely wrong. Your little fucktoy lives."
She gasped. "What?"
He licked along her jugular vein and snapped at the wound he'd inflicted earlier. "Yeah, for all the good it'll do 'im. Suspect he's on his way to play the white knight." He sat up, leering at her. "Wouldn't it be fun to snap his neck while you watch? Or maybe you'd like us to take you at the same time? Bet you've thought about it, two thick cocks shoved up inside you, one in your cunt and one in your hot, tight little --"
He was suddenly yanked off Buffy by an unseen force and thrust up against the door, unable to move. Buffy turned and caught sight of Willow, struggling to push herself up from the floor. She was chanting, and her eyes had gone bright red.
"Il daemon si rimuove. Il daemon è limitato. Il daemon perde l'alimentazione. Daemon da macinare!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he roared.
"Silence!" Willow commanded. She waved an arm in the air, sending bolts of bright blue electricity across his body. He convulsed, head lolling to one side.
Buffy dizzily crawled from the bed, weaving slightly until she reached the bag of weapons near the nightstand. She pulled out a stake and began to approach him.
"No!" Willow cried. "We can't kill him! We don't know what that'll do to Spike!"
***
Wes looked down at Gunn's bloodied face, then back up at Lilah. "This is all your fault," he said, standing. "You tempted us. You brought us in. This was never about rewarding us, letting us use your resources. This was about corruption from the very start."
"Gotta hand it to you, Wesley," Lilah said. "Never could pull the wool over your eyes."
"We're done. All of us. We quit."
Lilah surveyed the room. "Uh... and 'we' would be... who, exactly? The pile of dust? The guy you just sent into a coma? The girl who ran off with the ex-vamp?"
Wes struggled to maintain his composure. "There's... Lorne..."
She stifled a laugh. "Lorne's small potatoes, babe. Face it, there's really just you."
"Well, then, I quit."
"Suit yourself. Go on, go live a nice life all by your lonesome. No job, no friends... go be a good boy."
He gave her one last withering stare, then mounted the steps toward the door.
"Better go a little faster, darling," she called after him. "Somebody might've already called the police."
***
The house was small, cheerful, well-kept, but Spike and Fred didn't waste any time taking in the architecture when they heard blood-curdling screams from inside.
Well, so much for the easin' her into it, Spike thought. He kicked the door in and rushed inside.
The living room was in shambles, furniture overturned carelessly, glass broken and strewn across the carpet. The shouts were coming from behind a door to their left, but crashes and thumps came from upstairs.
Spike looked nervously at Fred. "You got anything you could use as a weapon?" he asked.
Her eyes darted around the room, finally settling on the remains of a table, smashed to shards of wood. She picked up one of the legs and hefted it in her hand, testing its weight.
"I'll be all right."
Spike nodded at her then listened hard to the various noises. The screams from behind the door were becoming clearer. Shouts for help, not pleas, not begging for something to stop...
Yeah, that'll be better for 'er, he decided.
"There," he told Fred, pointing her toward the door. "You go in there, I'm headin' for whatever's making the other racket." He jerked his head toward the stairs.
Fred's face was full of worry. "Spike... please... be careful."
He couldn't take it anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, Spike was at her side, pulling Fred into a tender, if brief, embrace. "You, too, luv," he whispered in her ear. He kissed her on the cheek and flew upstairs.
***
The basement was dark, but Fred could make out the source of the screams almost immediately after descending the small flight of stairs: a man and three women were here, one of them unconscious, all of them bleeding and badly beaten. The man was tied to a support beam by his wrists, two of the women were tied together around the door handle of a sub-zero freezer which they were struggling to knock over, and the unconscious woman lay unfettered across the concrete floor.
"Thank God!" the man said when he saw her. "A little help here, lady?"
Fred crouched down beside him and began working on the tight knots in his ropes. "Who did this to you?"
"Don't tell her anything," one of the women said. Fred turned to her, and the woman exhaled. "Fred. God, sorry, I couldn't tell who it was."
"Faith! What happened to you guys?"
The woman tied to Faith -- a girl, really, just a teenager -- shuddered. "Spike," she said with disdain. "A vampire. He's probably killing my sister as we speak."
Fred had gotten the man untied, and he immediately sank to the floor next the unconscious woman, trying to get her awake. Fred hurried to Faith and the girl, nimble fingers sliding between their bonds.
"Spike? No. No way," she insisted as she worked. "I brought him here with me. He's not a vampire anymore."
"Fred, no offense, but you're nuts," Faith countered. "Dude's all with the fangs and evil again. Looks like his soul got knocked out or somethin'."
"No!" Fred replied. "Spike is human. I met up with him in LA." The ropes were undone, and she pulled Faith and the girl to their feet, turning back to the man.
"Kennedy!" he was shouting into the woman's face. "Kennedy, wake up!"
"You've gotta get her to a hospital." Fred told him. "Outside, I've got a car. The keys are in the ignition." She looked at the girl, who was looking unsteady. She'd had a sizeable chunk taken out of her neck, and was feebly pressing her fingers into the wound. "Take her, too."
"Yeah, Xander, get 'em outta here," Faith said.
"Are you all right?" Fred asked.
Faith shrugged. "Five by five, Twiggy. Let's go stake us a vamp."
The door banged open and something bulky crunched behind it, but Spike paid the sound no mind as he saw the glory before him.
Buffy.
Buffy wearing an expression that he seldom saw -- fear, confusion, agony, and...
Oh, my God, is that blood on her neck?
"Buffy!"
"Spike!"
She rushed to him, staring with open-mouthed disbelief at the rays of light emanating from the amulet around his chest.
"I can feel it, Buffy," he murmured in awe.
"What?"
He looked at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "My soul. It's really there." He gazed out at the multitudes of Turok-Han being dissolved and curled his lip up in a soft smile. "Kind of stings."
Her eyes were huge, scanning his face wildly, her golden hair shaking in a swirl around her heart-shaped face. "It's another trick, it's not real... it's..."
He strode to her, his hand cupping her cheek, gaping at her, his heart full. The tears flowed with abandon down his face as he beheld this vision.
"I mean it! I gotta do this!" He held out his hand to stop her from pulling him out of the beam, but instead of moving, she laced her fingers through his, their joined hands bursting into flames.
Her eyes were moist, and her face softened. "I love you," she quietly.
"God, Buffy, I love you."
All other thoughts gone, he took her into his arms and held her tightly. "Never, never gonna let you go, never again."
"No, you don't. But thanks for saying it."
Earthquake splitting the walls of the cavern... legs pumping hard and fast up crumbling flights of stairs... blinding, searing pain...
"Mine," she was sobbing. "You're real, you're here, you're --"
"Let's get a few things straight," an irritated voice sounded behind them.
Spike spun around and stared into his own face.
"He's only here because I am." The vampire sneered. "Off me and loverboy goes down, too."
"What the hell?" Spike mumbled. "The bloody First?"
The vampire sniffed. "Hardly, mate. I'm quite deliciously corporeal." He proved it by kicking his double in the chest. "And bit of advice... do take better care to touch up your roots, eh?"
***
Faith took only seconds to assess the situation. Screw this, we'll straighten out who's who later. She leaped on the vampire's back and began landing punches to his head.
"Faith, don't!" Willow shrieked.
Buffy knelt beside Spike, shaking him back to consciousness. He looked out of sorts and confused, but touched the side of her neck. "Did that?" he asked weakly, pointing to the vampire.
"Yeah," she said. "You okay?"
"Not so much," he replied. "Think the bugger..." He let out a whimpering laugh. "Think I cracked my own ribs."
"He's not you," Buffy said, her voice strong and assured. "Not hardly."
"B, come on!" Faith shouted. "Gimme a hand!"
Fred shot into the room and stooped next to Spike. "I'll take care of him," she told Buffy. "You help with that."
"Who... ?"
"Buffy, Fred, Fred, Buffy," Spike said, wincing. "Ow. 'S all right, Slayer, go."
Buffy scampered up and pulled Faith off the vampire, striking him squarely on the jaw. "Will, try something! Anything! Get this creep's batteries to run down already!"
"He broke through the first binding!" Willow shouted in frustration. "I - I need supplies!"
Faith sprang up and kicked the vampire in the back of the head, knocking him down.
He didn't get up.
"Screw binding, Red," she announced triumphantly. "Doc Martens, one; witchcraft, zip."
***
"Is that tight enough?"
"Plenty."
Buffy tightened the ropes.
"Ow! Watch it! What, I said it was tight enough!"
"Like I'm gonna take your word for it! Sheesh, Sp -- you! What, do I look totally stupid?"
The vampire opened his mouth, and Buffy punched him across the face. "On second thought, don't answer that."
She stood up and moved to stand next to Faith. "He tries anything..."
Faith nodded and held up her crossbow. "Motherfucker goes down before he's got a chance."
"Good." She went to the kitchen and slid into a chair next to Spike, while Fred hovered over Willow with a bottle of iodine. "Any word from the hospital?"
"Eek! Stinging!" Willow winced. "You said it wouldn't sting!"
"Sorry! Sorry, just hold still. I'm almost done," Fred assured her.
"Will? Word from Xander?" Buffy asked again.
"Ow! Uh, no, not yet," Willow replied. "I'm sure they'll be okay. God, I hope so. Kennedy... oh, geez, Buffy..."
Buffy patted Willow's hand. "She'll be fine."
Spike was staring through the door at the vampire, who scowled right back at him. "So terribly unnervin', that," he remarked.
The vampire jabbed two fingers in the air. "Bloody pillock," he sneered.
"Okay, that's enough outta you," Faith said. She ripped the corner off a throw pillow and shoved it into his mouth.
Spike chuckled softly. "Have I mentioned lately how much I like her?"
A foot kicked him sharply under the table. "Hey! Watch it!"
"Oh, sorry, was that you?" Buffy asked in mock innocence. "Focus here, people! We've got a doozy of a sitch going, and I don't need to have things further complicated by having to make sure you... um..."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, pet?"
She took a deep breath and clasped his hand in hers. "Obviously, you and I are going to have a totally uncomfortable Cosmo quiz moment later, but for right now..."
"Smack this puppy down, right B?" Faith called.
"Well, maybe. Hopefully."
Willow chewed her lip nervously. "You heard what he said, though, right? It's like I was afraid... we do something to him, and... Spike... um..."
"Dies," he said. "You can spell it out, Will. Not like I haven't died before, and rather recently, in fact."
"We're not gonna let it come to that," Buffy said. "We're gonna figure something out."
"You better," Faith said. "I don't like the way skeeze boy's lookin' at me."
***
Buffy's room was locked in shadows when she crept in quietly. Tossing her shoes on the floor, she sat down heavily on the bed. Immediately, a soft grunt and muffled expressions of pain met her ears. She shot to her feet and snapped on the small gooseneck lamp hanging on the wall above the nightstand.
"Think you crushed my wrist, luv," came Spike's sleep-roughened voice. He raised his head of mussed curls from the pillow and grinned at her. "Gotta look where you plant your lovely little ass."
Buffy's cheeks colored slightly, and she smiled back at him. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't know where you'd crashed."
Spike propped himself up, taking care not to strain his bruised ribs, wincing just enough to cause Buffy momentary concern. "You okay?" she asked.
He nodded, but Buffy knelt beside him on the bed and gingerly lifted his t-shirt. "Come off it," he chuckled. "Not playin' Florence Nightengale, just wantin' a peek. Can't fool me."
Buffy rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the black and blue shadows covering Spike's abdomen. "You might want to get this looked at tomorrow," she said. "I'm going back to the hospital in the morning. You could come with."
He shrugged. "If it'll ease your mind, that's fine, pet. How's Harris and the girls?"
Buffy let go of his shirt and drew her legs up onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "Xander's fine. He and Dawn lost a little more blood than they realized. Dawn needed some stitches."
"And Kennedy?"
Buffy frowned. "She's still unconscious."
Spike's mouth tightened into a thin line, and his brow furrowed. "Bastard really did a number on 'er," he whispered. "Fuck him." He gazed at Buffy with deep earnestness. "Don't let him live, Slayer. I know what he's capable of... God, do I ever..."
Buffy placed her hand on his shoulder. "We can't," she replied. "We're not gonna kill him. I'm not losing you."
"Well, here's bloody well hopin' Red finds another way, 'cause if he hurts anyone again, I'll take the blighter out m'self. Consequences be damned."
Buffy's tone was strong and determined. "I won't let it come to that," she informed him. "Anyway, Faith's still watching him, and we'll all take turns playing 'guard the hostage' until Will comes up with the answer. He's not getting free." She slowly leaned closer to him and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Everybody needs some rest," she murmured.
"Been a long day," Spike agreed. "Eh... do you want... I mean, I can go stretch out on the couch if you'd rather..."
Without a word, Buffy reclined on the bed, snuggling herself beside him.
"Take that as a 'no,' then," he said, enveloping her in his arms. He breathed in the scent of her hair, entwining his fingers with hers.
"How about a new rule," Buffy said with a contented yawn. "I won't sacrifice myself to save the world again if you won't."
Spike squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "Got yourself a deal, goldilocks."
Wes huddled in the darkened alley, half sheltered from the pounding of the rain by the rusted tin roof overhanging the back door of what he liked to refer to as a "gentlemen's club." Though I suspect most actual "gentlemen's clubs" don't have flashing neon breasts on their signposts, he thought to himself with bitter amusement.
He'd withdrawn a thousand dollars from his bank account after leaving the Hyperion and had it converted to traveler's cheques, and now was attempting to break the password on Fred's voicemail. Wes punched in every possible combination of letters and numbers she might use, and glared at her cell phone in frustration each time he failed.
"Damn you!" he yelled at the phone, as if this would force it to cower and finally reveal its secrets. "What the hell did she use?!"
Lightning ripped through the sky as if in answer to Wes's predicament, and the wind shifted, sending the rain at an angle to render his shelter useless. Oh, lovely, yes, this situation just continues to improve by the minute.
He laughed ruefully. Fred, wherever the devil you are, if you have a shred of affection for me... he thought wildly as he pressed the buttons of the phone in one last brave attempt to crack the code. 9, 3, 7, 5, 3, 9... "Wesley."
Bingo.
Wes was shocked, and more than a little touched, but didn't belabor emotion. There might be a clue as to Fred and Spike's destination amongst her messages.
"This is Buffy... you talked to my friend Willow earlier..."
Of course!
Wes turned up the collar of his jacket and hunched his shoulders, seeking better refuge and quiet from the storm.
***
Gunn opened his eyes, but saw only a dark brown nothingness pierced through with faint flashes of light. He groaned. Everything hurt. A lot.
Light flashed again, and from somewhere very far away, he thought he heard someone calling his name.
"Come on, come on, Gunn, that's it," the voice was saying. Something cool and wet and slightly rough passed over his eyes, and the gritty brown substance was washed away, replaced by a blurry green.
"Lorne?" Gunn's voice was weak and hoarse.
"There you are!" The blur revealed a row of white teeth. A smile. "Let's get you on your feet, sweetie."
This sounded like an impossibility. "Pain," Gunn grunted. His mind reeled. Feel like I been drinkin' cheap whiskey all night, he thought. Ugh.
But despite the aches coursing through him and the inability of his legs to be anything but useless rubbery appendages, Gunn was lifted from the floor by the demon and steered to a couch. He forced himself to sit upright and willed his eyes to focus. There we go, better... but, Jesus, what a fucking migraine...
"Who did this to you?"
"It was --" Gunn stopped. "Freaky. Hell if I know. It was like... one minute I was in the car with Angel, and we were comin' back here to..."
"To what?"
"I can't... I don't remember."
Lorne looked around the lobby. "Where is Angel anyway?"
Think! Gunn urged himself, but nothing was coming to him. "We got in here... and there was..." Somebody else was here... Fred, and... some guy. And they left. "We were gonna talk to this dude," Gunn mused. "Angel was pissed off about somethin'." Gunn shook his head. "Shit. Sorry, man, it's just not makin' any kinda sense."
"Tell me about it," Lorne said. "I woke up about an hour ago, and it took me ten minutes to remember my own name."
***
"They don't want to play anymore."
Knox looked disappointed. "So they're all out?"
Lilah turned to the young man. "My deepest apologies," she said with slight disdain. "I know you had a little crush on your supervisor."
He grinned boyishly. "Uh... well, no, not, um..." he stammered.
"God, what is it about that skinny thing that turns guys to jelly?" she sneered, pacing the length of her office.
Knox's grin disappeared. "Sorry," he mumbled.
She passed a hand through the air dismissively. "Doesn't matter anymore," she told him. "I just need you to do me a favor. Tie up the loose ends back east."
Knox gaped at her, leaning back in his chair. "Woah, okay, does that mean I have to go ahead with the detonation?" he asked. "I thought you said it wouldn't come to that."
Lilah perched on the arm of his chair and playfully mussed his dark locks. "Don't think of it as murder," she cooed seductively. "Think of it as arson."
"But there's people in there!"
"Maybe," she said, leaning closer to him. "Maybe not. We're not really sure." Lilah brushed Knox's lower lip with her thumb and smiled as she saw him gulp. "Pretend there's not."
"I don't know, Ms. Morgan..."
Lilah slid one slender black-stockinged leg lightly across his lap, piercing the soft leather of the arm of the chair opposite the one she sat on with the sharp stiletto of her heel. Knox's eyes nervously roamed over her thigh with both lust and trepidation.
"Do it for me," she said, trailing a long crimson fingernail along his neck.
***
The barista looked up from her dog-eared comic book at the sound of the front door jingling open. A man entered, soaked to the skin, his face shadowed with stubble, short brown hair plastered to his forehead.
Wearily, the young woman sighed and hopped off her stool, shoving her reading material under the counter and spitting her gum into the trashcan as politely as she could.
"Monsoon out there, huh?" she asked amiably.
"Hrm? Oh, yes, yes, rather," he replied, sounding distracted and tired.
Oo, British guy, she noted. And kinda hot.
She smoothed the tiny half-apron covering her skirt. "Something to warm you up? Special tonight's a white chocolate mocha with --"
"No," he interrupted. "Just a coffee. Black." He dropped a slightly damp five dollar bill on the counter.
"Keep it," she said with a shrug. "Not like we're hopping right now, and you look like you deserve one on the house."
He flashed her a brief close-mouthed smile and took his money back. "Thanks."
She made a vague gesture to the room. "I'll bring it out," she told him.
He slumped into a booth and shrugged off his sodden jacket. When the barista brought him his coffee, he gave her a nod and another smile, wrapping his hands around the mug for a moment before withdrawing a cell phone from his pocket.
***
This is really not the kind of thing I went to M.I.T. for, Knox thought with disgust as he rode the elevator down to the lab. "Sounds like a good job," Mom said. "An offer too good to refuse," she said. Well, Mom, how would you feel if you knew your son was now barely more than an over-educated hit man?
He swiped his security card through the electronic lock, punched in the entrance code, and entered the sterile white room. "Word from on high," he told his assistant tersely. "Time for the B plan."
"I was afraid of that," Abe said quietly. "It's all set and ready to go. You want me to go ahead and initiate?"
Knox shook his head. "No," he replied. "Burden's all on me." He cocked his head toward the door. "Go home," he said. "If you're not here when I do it, your conscience'll be clear."
When the door shut behind Abe, Knox sat down at the terminal. He stared for a moment at the grid, black and white lines intersecting across the screen, small red dots glowing to indicate the positions of the explosives.
How does that song go? he wondered grimly as he cracked his knuckles, placing his fingertips lightly on the keyboard. The heart of rock and roll is still beating in Cleveland?
A flurry of typing, codes and coordinates, and the grid zoomed in to a higher magnification, one red dot blinking angrily.
Knox hit "enter," and the dot winked out.
He buried his face in his hands.
***
Darien's legs buckled, and she dropped to the floor, barely registering the pain of her tailbone making contact with the concrete. "They just... took him?" she asked.
"I couldn't do anything," Jay replied. "It was one of the Slayers, and --"
"Did he kill her?"
"No, he was... well, it was weird. He knew her."
Darien shook her head. "We never should've done this. Why did you talk me into taking the job?"
"She said --"
Darien sprang up and slapped her husband across the face. "She said. That woman!" she spat out. "Was that before or after you fucked her?!"
Jay held up his hands and backed away. "Look, not only my idea, the job. When I showed you the check, you didn't exactly balk. I seem to recall you even getting all excited about the ritual."
Darien folded her arms across her chest. "I thought we were just taking out the Regneast cult," she explained. "I thought we were just raising a higher being that would... take care of things."
Jay took a step forward and jabbed an index finger at her. "You did this for money and revenge," he said accusatorially. "Yavil killed your father, and you've spent the last thirty years building up this twisted vendetta bullshit. Well, baby, you got what you wanted, plus a nice chunk of change on top of it. So what if it meant summoning some lame Empath to get all morphy and fuck with the heads of a few people we don't even know? What do we care? We got paid. Don't even act like you're jealous just 'cause I might've gotten a little busy with that lawyer from LA. It's not like you're ever in the mood anymore."
Darien had her comeback all ready, and it was a doozy, too, but she never got to say it.
The warehouse exploded in a brilliant blaze of fire and deafening thunder. In minutes, Darien and Jay were reduced to nothing more than charred skeletons.
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