“He killed the Interstrife Demon who wanted to kill her – actually,” Guy said as Willie refilled his glass, “I think the demon wanted to make an example of her, if you know what I mean.”
“An example,” the closest vampire asked, drunk and confused. “What sort of example?”
Exchanging a look with Willie – who had somehow managed to land on his feet when everything went to hell – Guy glowered at the vampire. “An example, idiot. He wanted to defile her, wanted to use her in ways that it’s not proper to speak of.”
“He wanted to rape the slayer?”
The backhand, when it came, surprised only the vampire. “Never speak of our goddess that way again,” the tall demon – with six arms and three eyes – rumbled.
“Pft,” the vampire grumbled, climbing back onto his chair before someone else claimed it. Willie’s was crowded, it always was now, especially since it was the first, last, and only stop between Angelus’ palace and the barren lands outside the city. Willie had chosen well, if he did say so himself – considering what he had to work with.
“She’s only the slayer,” the vamp insisted. “That’s all; nothing special. When one dies another is called.”
“Idiot,” Guy mumbled, turning his back on the vamp as the huge demon tore his head off. Dust littered Willie’s countertop, and, with a resigned sigh, he took a damp cloth and wiped it up.
“It’s harder to keep this place up than I remember,” he confided to Guy. “Before, it was a select clientele. Now,” he shrugged. “Anyone can come in.”
“It’s the price,” Guy agreed, “For staying in business. Just be glad, friend, you managed to retain your life.”
“You do have a point,” the human readily agreed. “A very good point.
“Does she know you’re still alive?”
“I do not think so,” Willie shook his head. “But I doubt Angelus lets her out of the palace.”
Guy sighed, a romantic, nostalgic sound that ruffled his fur and caused his large eyes to soften. “He changed the world for her. Now that’s what I call love. A toast, my friend,” he raised his glass towards Willie. “To happily ever after.”
Willie toasted with Guy, grinning as he did so. Yes, he was
a cynical bartender, but he was a romantic. And yes, Angelus had changed the
world, not necessarily for the better, but he did, and all for love. If that
wasn’t a fairy tale, Willie wasn’t sure what was.
~~~~~~~~~~
She probably wanted to talk with Willow first. Or even her mother. Angelus,
however, had other ideas.
Xander could rot for all he cared, Giles had already tasted the freedom he’d never again have, but Hank…Hank was the only viable choice. He was her father, he really didn’t understand anything, and, as far as Angelus knew, Buffy wasn’t all that close to him.
So he was the only logical choice for her first guest.
The day was overly warm, a slight wind blew over the land, and yet the gardens were in full bloom. Color and scent greeted the human as he stepped out of the shadows. Taking a moment to enjoy the scents – something fragrant, not the confinement of too many bodies in too close quarters – and the light, such as it was, he almost didn’t mind the hulking guards and the rather insane woman he’d met his first day here.
“She’ll be very happy, mummy will,” the crazy woman confided. “She’s lonely up here, but she’s always alone. She has my Angel,” and here she giggled. “She always has Angel, but she doesn’t understand it yet.”
“Understand what?” Hank asked, and instantly regretted it. He didn’t want to talk with the woman – vampire, whatever – and was sure her answer would not only make very little sense, but would no doubt cause unpleasant images about his daughter, his daughter for God’s sake, to haunt him. As far as he was concerned, Buffy was a seventeen-year-old girl, his little girl, whom he loved even if he didn’t show it.
The thought of her with any man, let alone a two hundred and fifty year old vampire, was more than unsettling. It was nauseating.
“That it really is all about love,” Dru whispered, drawing him away from the guards. Not that they couldn’t hear, he was sure, but the privacy was appreciated. Probably. “Love makes the world spin wild and free, it changes things, and makes them brighter.”
“Right,” Hank agreed, slowly drawing the word out. Who was crazier, he wondered, Drusilla or him? “Love, eh? I’m not seeing the love here.”
“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” she told him, voice hard, now, and certain.
“Dad!”
Buffy’s voice broke Hank out of his reverie, and he instantly forgot about the crazy vampiress beside him. Opening his arms to her, he enveloped his daughter in a tight hug, grateful that she was still alive. The world may have gone to hell, he may have learned some things he wished never to know – about the world and his child – but he thanked God that she was with him.
“God, Buffy,” he whispered, pulling back. “I’ve missed you. How are you?”
“Good,” she smiled, leading him to an open area. A picnic was laid out there, blanket, fresh fruit, and pillows among the fragrant flowers. “Busy.”
“Is that why you don’t come and visit anymore?” Any other time, that’d sound like a normal parental thing to ask, but the moment the words were out of his mouth, Hank wanted to take them back. The look on her face – crushed, tired, depressed – tore at some fundamental part of him – the father part, the human part.
“Yeah,” she admitted, and he felt like a cad. Whatever everyone else thought, it obviously wasn’t the case. He knew his daughter, okay, not well, certainly not any more, but he knew her. There was something more to this than everyone down there thought.
“Buffy…what’s really going on?”
“You know what’s going on, dad. It hasn’t changed. They told you already. It’s all the same.”
“No, I mean…what I want to know is…” Hank sighed, sat down next to her, and tried again. For long moments, he watched her eat, plucking at grapes and bright red apples, shinny blueberries and glistening red raspberries. Drusilla was gone, where he didn’t know, and the guards formed a circle around them…around her, he realized with a start. To keep her there? Or to keep her safe?
“Where’d all this come from?” he asked instead.
“The greenhouse? It’s just for me,” Buffy admitted. “Well, I guess for you guys, too. What do you eat down there?”
“Fruits sometimes, vegetables, meats, not a lot, usually soups and salads, but it’s healthy. Why bother?”
“Why bother, what? Why bother feeding you healthy?” Buffy laughed, and for the first time, Hank realized it was genuine. The smile that lighted her face was real, not what she usually presented them when she visited the dungeons. How had he not noticed that before? How had any of them missed that? Maybe they didn’t know her as well as they claimed.
“Because it’s the only food around for us. Angelus wants me healthy – it’s a sure way to keep me around longer.”
“I don’t understand, Buffy. I know,” he held up a hand to forestall another long lecture full of chosen and demon and vampire type words. “What I don’t understand is why. Why did he do this? From what they said down there, you let him?”
“No,” her voice was sharp, sure. “I didn’t let him. I…” she stopped, looked down at the blanket. When she looked up again, her words were soft, faltering. “The truth is, dad, that I failed. I was supposed to stop him, but because he’s…because…I couldn’t.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and Buffy hastily blinked them away. “The world is like this because of me.”
“No it’s not, Buffy,” and the ferocity with which he said that startled her – and him, but once the words were out, he realized the truth of them. They warmed something within her, something she thought broken, and she met his gaze, seeing not the censure she expected, but fatherly love. “It’s no one’s fault. It was just the way things were meant to be. There’s,” and here he laughed, “A plan for all of us.”
Buffy looked at him oddly for a moment. Angel had said something similar to her – once, before all this, and again in her dream. (Sometimes, Buffy, things are supposed to be this way – I was supposed to be here, with you.) (What happened was meant to be, there was nothing you could do to change that.) “When did you become so convinced of Fate and Destiny?”
“Not Fate and Destiny, but God, Buffy,” he corrected. “And about the same time you started having trouble in LA. Your mother and I were arguing all the time, you weren’t helping, though I realize now it was beyond your control. I went to see a priest, desperate for some help. He told me some things; things that I realize now were specifically about you.”
“Father Pat?” her voice caught on the name.
“Yes,” Hank nodded, smiling at Buffy’s stunned look. “He said that there are always reasons for things, reasons only God knows, and that we can only hope to interpret His reasons. Something about you, I wish I could remember it now. As I said,” he apologized, “I didn’t realize it was about you. I thought we were speaking in generalities.”
“Oh,” she smiled, and once again Hank was struck by the sincerity in that smile, the realness of it. “He was a nice man, a good one. I really miss him.”
Hank nodded, quiet for a moment. “Tell me about Angelus,” he asked, smiling at his baby. She was still his little girl, even with her hair piled high on her head, the gown she wore, obviously expensive, possibly silk, and a little too revealing for his fatherly tastes, and the general air of responsibility and adulthood. She looked so grown up, and yet Hank didn’t see her that way.
She was still his daughter. End of story.
“What do you want to know about him?” She asked, nibbling on an apple slice.
“Why the crazy bat who brought me here,” Hank jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Drusilla now hovered several feet away. “Refers to him as daddy, and you, daughter, as her mummy.”
“Oh,” her face heated, and Buffy looked down at the bowl before her. “That. It’s a long story.”
“Apparently,” Hank said, laying on the blanket covered
ground, “I’ve got nothing but time.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“They don’t understand!” Faith argued, though Julia had already agreed with her.
Twice. “This is a fight we can’t win.”
“I know that, Faith,” Julia soothed, though she was far from calm herself. Her cheeks were flushed, and her temper held only because she didn’t want to alarm Faith any more than the already exhausted slayer was. And she was, poor child.
Between the nightmares and this…it was too much for the young woman before her. More than, and Julia wasn’t sure how much more Faith could handle. Doyle hadn’t confided in her what went on between them several days ago when he’d finally found her, bloody and bruised, and snarling like a beast, but Julia knew it was bad.
The only hope she had was Doyle’s obvious feelings for the slayer, and Tara’s continued calming presence. Between the two of them, the watcher had hopes that her slayer wouldn’t be lost to them.
“Julia,” there was a note of desperation in Faith’s voice now. “Travers has no idea what he’s talking about. He has no clue what’s really going on in this world. Not now, not anymore. It’s changed, and he hasn’t changed with it. Angelus will never let this world go. He’ll destroy it first.”
“How do you know this? Faith, have you had more prophetic dreams?”
“Just trust me. You said you did, so do it,” Faith pleaded, tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to tell anyone what she’d learned about Buffy, the other slayer, or about her role – willing or not – in Angelus’ plans. “This world will be gone before he lets her or his power go. We’ll be nothing more than ash. If we continue to fight, here, far away from his immediate influence, then at lest we have a chance.”
“Faith,” Julia gripped her arms, fear and desperation making her voice sharp, her grip rough. “How do you know this?”
“Trust me,” a tear slipped her control and tracked down her
cheek. “Please, Julia, just trust me.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The small earthquake that rocked the wing surprised Lilah. Yes, they were on a
fault, all of California was, but even something as mundane on the west coast as
earthquakes, she figured, would’ve been wiped out when Angelus changed the
world.
If there was a chance he could fall into the ocean, then he’d have eliminated that chance, right? Or moved or something.
And yet there was a definite moving and shifting of earth; several vases fell, the crystal decanter filled with some kind of alcohol she couldn’t identify, though she’d had it every night since arriving here, and the torches lining the walls tumbled from their places. Holding onto the doorframe, Lilah was momentarily paralyzed; she’d survived earthquakes before, but this one seemed…different.
Or maybe she just didn’t expect it to be, because of all the other changes in the world.
“That was unexpected,” Lindsey said as the shifting stopped. Looking behind her, Lilah barely acknowledged him. It was simply easier that way.
“Find anything?” She asked, still not bothering to look at him as she continued into her room. So much for her nightly drink. She’d have to find more – her life sucked enough as it was, coping with it, minus the slightly numbing effects of alcohol, however temporary and false they were, was unheard of.
“They want us to continue on with the plan,” Lindsey sighed. “Not much else. Whatever they’re planning, they’re still not sharing.”
“I think,” a new voice said, standing just outside the door Lindsey had yet to close. “That I may be of some help.”
Richard Wilkins III entered the room without waiting for an invitation. Smiling at the pair of humans, he couldn’t help a chuckle. “Richard Wilkins III, mayor of Sunnydale,” he introduced himself.
“Sunnydale?” Lilah laughed, though she shook his hand. If he was still alive, then he was more than simply the mayor. Or a human mayor. “I believe Sunnydale’s gone, Mr. Mayor. You’re the mayor of nothing now.”
“Well, yes,” he conceded, “You do have a point. But that’s not my point.”
”And what would that point be?” Lindsey wondered.
“You’re going about this all wrong!” he laughed again. “You’re focusing on Angelus, and while I can almost see the appeal of him, it’s the girl you have to worry about.”
“The slayer?” Lindsey dismissed her with a wave.
“Yes,” Wilkins nodded. “Dear Buffy Summers. The slayer.” The bane of his existence, but that wasn’t the point. Not today it wasn’t. Maybe tomorrow. “She’s his mate. Or,” he chuckled again, “Will be soon. His goddess. His queen. And, most importantly…his only weakness.”
“Why tell us this?” Lindsey demanded.
“Because we share a common goal,” Richard nodded, entering the room fully and closing the door. “We want certain things to further our own agendas, and right now, neither of us are gaining any headway. By working together, at least in this, we can both achieve what we’re after.”
“And what is it you’re after?” Lilah demanded, though she was intrigued.
Richard Wilkins laughed once more, and the sound was beginning to grate on their nerves. Did he always laugh like a maniac? “We’re all after something, my dear. Power, energy, strength, money. It doesn’t matter, does it? We share commonality. The slayer is our way to each reach our individual goals.”
“We’ve tried to get a bead on her,” Lilah admitted slowly. “No one’s talking.”
“Of course they’re not! Would you if the price of information wasn’t worth your life?” Shaking his head, Wilkins leaned against the door. “No, information here is scarce, or the people willing to talk are.”
(“So you were the mayor of Sunnydale,” Angelus said, looking him over with a critical eye. “And here I thought all humans were gone from that miserable little town. But then,” he smoothly rose from the throne he occupied, a hand gently grazing Buffy Summer’s shoulder as he did so. “I guess you’re not human, eh?” Inclining his head, Richard smiled at the god. “Not exactly, no. But that’s why I’m here.” He turned to Buffy. “The slayer,” he bowed. “Miss Summers, it is indeed an honor to finally meet you face to face.” he winked at her. “I’ve heard so many great things about you.” Buffy kept quiet, but smiled at him, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgement, but remained seated. “What is it you want, Dick?” Angelus demanded.)
That conversation hadn’t gone well, or not in the direction Richard had wanted it to, at least. No, instead all he’d learned was that when it came to Miss Summers, Angelus was possessive and close-lipped. It didn’t take him long to discover that she was his weakness; quite possibly his only one, but that was enough. One was all he needed.
“Her power is fascinating, isn’t it?” Richard asked now, eyeing the humans before him. What would they give, he wondered. What would they be willing to promise, to give up for him? “She’s stronger than even she realizes,” he chuckled, shrugging. “For now at least.”
Wilkins listened as they accepted his offer – were they desperate, or cunning enough to realize the importance of the girl? They agreed, however, and that was enough for him.
“What of those in the dungeon?” Lindsey asked. “Maybe one of them could have potential use?”
“Maybe,” Richard agreed with a slow nod. “Not the parents, that’d be too obvious. There’s a boy, is there not? Maybe we should start with him.”
The boy, from what Richard had gathered, was a dear friend of the slayer’s. He was also in love with her, an unrequited love that Richard had been following for quite some time, wondering just how he could use that to his advantage when The Time came.
This was now that time.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus sat in his chair, ignoring the many courtiers who wandered about the
room, hoping to gain his attention. His guards kept everyone away, but it was
more likely his expression that discouraged anyone from trying to approach him.
Richard Wilkins’ questions still bothered him, even after three days. The demon wanted something, but what Angelus wasn’t sure. And his questions…they ventured into territory they shouldn’t; hell, they ventured where no one should even have information. He asked things no one should dare question, things no other being should understand, let alone ask.
Buffy was his, she was sacred, protected, guarded. And yet, dear old Dick knew things he shouldn’t. And asked of things Angelus didn’t want to get around.
Things that endangered Buffy, mentally and physically. Things that put her at risk. Her power, her aura, the quakes she caused when she was furious – most of the time a fond smile graced his lips, giving several of the more optimistic courtiers a sliver of hope that his anger wasn't directed at them. And wasn’t she so very passionate in her anger.
This had to be stopped, and now. Wilkins needed allies, but there were few who dared cross Angelus. Those Acathlans that already had were dead; an example to the rest of their people as to what happened when they crossed the line with their new god. With Acathla’s heir. Several dozen of the more powerful masters in the world, thinking their place assured because of their history, their power, their empire, would fall soon. But not yet. Not until Angelus had all he needed from them.
Information. Information of the kind Acathla didn’t possess – what was now happening in the lower levels of demonic society, what the humans tried, planned, or whether they simply attempted to exist from day to day in their new world. And the Watcher’s Council; what new evils they were up to.
He ran down the list of potential allies for Dick, discarded more than a few who were too smart to go against their god, added several who hadn’t yet learned that lesson. And for good measure, added in the representatives from Wolfram & Hart. They wanted something only he could provide, and were willing to do anything to obtain that. Whatever their Senior Partners demanded, it must be big, Angelus figured. Or they’d already have taken it.
There were rumors, there always were, about those in the dungeons: who they were, what they meant to Buffy. And they were the easiest – and only – way to get to her.
Closing his eyes, Angelus concentrated on his lover, where she was, what she was doing, and with whom. Gardens, she was taking a walk in the gardens with Drusilla. His eyes locked with hers, bright green and surprised, before she looked away, closing off the path between them. But it was enough for him to know she was safe. For him to be reassured that, for now, no harm had come to her.
It wouldn’t. Ever. No matter what Dick thought to try.
~~~~~~~~~~
“He’ll never allow that. Testing her? Never.”
Wilkins’ voice was adamant, his eyes mocking as they stood on the barren landscape some distance from the palace. Far enough from prying eyes and ears, and Angelus’ seemingly all-knowing presence, and yet not so far they got lost, or were eaten by something wandering the pathways. The lawyers were smart, he’d give them that. But didn’t quite get the sheer cunning required. Or maybe they did, and thought that Angelus was not as possessive about Buffy as he truly was. No matter, they’d think of something.
“Taking one of the prisoners from the dungeon, then,” Lilah conceded, “Is the only way to do this.”
“Agreed,” Lindsey nodded. “The boy?” The question was directed to Wilkins, and he nodded.
“From what I understand, he’s the weak link. We take him, make it seem as if Angelus killed the boy, or let him go into the human unfriendly world, and Buffy can be ours.”
“And when he discovers this?” Lilah inquired. “You know he will, eventually; this isn’t something the gossips won’t talk about. How important is this Xander to the slayer?”
Wilkins smiled. “A dear, dear friend; with him missing, Miss Summers will do everything within her power to find him. And if she thinks Angelus had something to do with it…”
They recruited a pair of vampires, formally employed by the late Russell Winters. They were eager to get back at the god for their Master’s death, and disenchanted with the fact that whatever power they had under Winters, was now completely gone under Angelus. Edward and Nicholi, or Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee as Lindsey dubbed them, were eager to do their bidding.
The guard, standing stoically at the door to the dungeon, watched them approach. Bowing deeply, they spoke, heads still lowered. “Our great and powerful god, the esteemed Angelus, requires the presence of one of your prisoners.”
For a long moment, the guard looked at the pair of vampires, seeing only his fellow guards. They looked after his goddess, and yet he couldn’t imagine why his god would send them, and not retrieve the prisoner himself as he had with his goddess’ father. This had never happened before; no one had dared descend to the dungeon. Except Drusilla, but she was also special.
“Why are you taking him?” the guard asked.
Pausing, they continued to stare at the guard. Why? It wasn’t enough that they used Angelus’ name? It wasn’t enough that they used all those flowery words to describe both Angelus and his whore?
“It is not our place,” Edward finally said, “To question what our god has commanded. We are merely here to retrieve the prisoner.”
Waiting another moment, he opened the dungeon door, which wasn’t locked – ah the irony – and motioned the glamored Edward and Nicholi to enter the room. They waited while the large guard lumbered behind them.
“He’s the one our highness requested,” Nicholi pointed to Xander.
“What do you mean?” Willow demanded as the guard opened the appropriate cell.
“Where are you taking him?” Giles stood and crossed to stand by the bars. It did no good, and he felt foolish doing so, but he couldn’t sit still. “Where have you taken Hank? What are you doing with Xander?”
“Our esteemed lord and master, the great god, Angelus, has requested his,” again Nicholi pointed to Xander as the guard unlocked the cage, “Presence.”
“Why?” this was from Cordelia, equally worried.
No one answered their questions, however, and the guard opened the door, pulling Xander out and pushing him toward his ‘fellow’ guards. Panicked, Xander began to struggle. Whatever Angelus had in mind for him, he didn’t want to find out.
“Let me go. Whatever the fangy one wants,” he tried to pull away, truly terrified, “I’m not interested in.”
They pulled him out of the dungeons, still struggling, and up the stairs. Just as they started down one of the many hallways that lead to the lower levels and guest quarters, the human broke free. How that happened, neither Edward nor Nicholi knew, but suddenly he was racing down the corridor, knocking over various pieces of furniture in his haste to get away from the demons leading him to certain death.
“Wood!” Xander realized, and doubled back, risking precious moments in his escape – not that he knew where he was going, or which direction anything lay in – to grab the largest splinters of wood that now littered the ground. “I hope this is real,” he mumbled to himself as he risked life and limb, and lunged at the quickly approaching demons.
It was pure, dumb, blind luck that he staked the first demon. When it exploded into dust, he jumped back, not expecting anything of the sort. “You’re a vamp! Hey, you’re not a whatever, you’re a vamp!”
But then he was wrestling with the other one, literally fighting for his life, and all thoughts of vamps vs. demony-looking things he’d never seen before paled in comparison. How the stake ended up in the second seemingly vampire’s heart, Xander could only thank God.
Sneezing away the ashes that fell on him, he rose, still blind with panic, completely lost and desperate, he continued to sprint down the never-ending stone corridors. “Buffy,” he said to himself. “I have to find Buffy. She’ll help, traitorous bitch that she is. She won’t let Angelus kill me. I’ll rescue her, so she can rescue the rest of us.”
He rounded a corner, knocked into something, and kept on
going without bothering to see what it was. “Now, all I have to do is find her.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Where did they take him?” Willow demanded to no one in particular.
“Angelus wanted him,” Joyce said, clearly understanding what they all knew. “That can’t be good.”
“Why did Angelus not come for him himself?” Spike wondered. Aloud, too, but no one, as usual, listened to him. “Why in the world would Angelus not come get the wanker himself? He does everything else himself – torture, taunting, you name it, he does it. So if he wanted Xander, for whatever reason, he would never send someone else to do his bidding.” And still, no one listened to him – it was his curse.
“He’s going to kill him!” Cordelia whined. “He’s going to bite him and drain him, and throw him back in here to rise and eat us all!”
“I doubt that,” Giles soothed, but Spike knew he wasn’t entirely convinced. The only saving grace to that scenario was that, “Angelus doesn’t like Xander enough to turn him.”
Spike snorted in agreement, but remained quiet. Something else was going on, something that Angelus didn’t seem to know about. But here, stuck in the dungeon for not doing what he was now, Spike could do nothing about it. And it pissed him off.
“Well isn’t this just typical,” he huffed.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Ooooh,” Dru murmured, clutching her head as she dropped to her knees. She was
alone, waiting for Angelus to bring Buffy to the gardens from her daily visit to
her family in the dungeons.
But the stars were angry. They shook with a terrible fury over the injustices and mistakes made by those charged with seeing to this world’s balance. And they wanted her to change it, but the vision, it came too late.
“He’s already gone!” she cried. “He’s gone and my bright star won’t understand.”
Racing out of the gardens, she rushed through the palace, heading in the direction her vision led her to. She had to find the boy; she needed to find the black knight before something worse happened to them.
“My happy home,” she sighed as she searched for the human.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy smiled at Angelus as she left him at the top of the stairs. He’d said he
had something to attend to, but would take care of it while she visited with her
friends. Kissing him softly, she descended the stairs, perfectly safe in the
lone corridor.
Waiting while the guard opened the door, she all but bounced into the dungeon. She was dream free, sleeping well, and having some seriously great sex. Okay, it was at the expense of everyone else, but…no buts, Buffy.
She shouldn’t enjoy this, she frowned as she entered, eyes automatically sweeping the room. It wasn’t right that-
“Where’s Xander?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus turned from the top of the stairs, knowing that Buffy was safe below. No
one but they – and Drusilla – had access to this part of the palace. And, with
her guards, she was safe enough for the short amount of time they’d be apart.
“My god,” the guard who usually stood sentry to the prison rumbled. “May I ask if you plan to return the prisoner before my goddess enters the dungeon?”
Turning sharply, Angelus demanded, “What? What prisoner?”
“The boy, my god. You requested his presence not twenty
minutes ago.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“What do you mean,” Buffy asked, too stunned by their revelations to do more
than stare in shock at them. “Angelus’ demanded him and they took him?”
“I mean,” Giles snapped. “That your guards were in here, and they took Xander out on Angelus’ order.”
“No, I don’t believe it,” she whispered, but in the absolute silence of the room, her voice carried.
“Believe whatever you want of your demon lover,” Cordelia retorted. “But he took Xander.”
“He sent someone to do it,” Spike contradicted. “He didn’t get him himself, and if you ask me, not that anyone ever does, that’s unlike the poof.”
Buffy looked at him, wondering what he meant, but asked, “But when? He was with me all morning.” Without waiting for a reply, afraid of any she might get, Buffy whirled on her heels and stormed back out the dungeon door. Angelus had done this? He’d removed Xander from the protection of the cells?
Why? He’d promised her they’d be safe her. Trapped below, yes, but safe from any who wished them harm. Including himself.
“What did you do with Xander?” Buffy demanded of him the moment she reached him. He hadn’t gone as far as she thought, was still at the top of the stairs – that was a little odd, but she dismissed it. The guard, who usually stood by the door, now lay dead at his feet. What the hell had happened there? The two guards behind her said nothing, merely stepped over the body and continued to walk a bare step behind her.
“What,” she said again, eyes flashing silver in her anger, “Did you do with Xander?”
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